"Until The Fall" - 34/48

[rissy_james]

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. First Thanksgiving and then my son's 2nd birthday. Its an extra long one to make up for it.

Chapter Thirty Four

DG awoke stiff and sore. She decided that the past year she'd spent in the yielding opulence of the palace in Central City had spoiled her; she'd give anything for her narrow, box-framed attic bed in Kansas now. Cain didn't seem a bit bothered by sleeping propped up against a tree. Then again, the time in the suit would have trained his body to handle any sort of discomfort, she realized with a wave of regret.

The fields around them were covered in a thin layer of fog. In the grey light, there was very little she could see beyond their camp-site. The mood throughout the group was wholly subdued. The only words spoken were those between DG and Wyatt as they'd woken and discussed, albeit very briefly, the day ahead and the road he planned to travel. After a few moments, he got up and went to wake the others, leaving her bereft of his solid warmth at her side. The morning was colder than she'd first thought.

Impatient, and a little jolted by Cain's indifference, DG began to saddle the mare herself as the others rose and stretched and made ready to leave. She could overhear Cain and Hass going over the route.

“We ride until we reach the village,” Cain said. “I don't care if it takes half the night.”

“Sir, perhaps we shouldn't push the animals,” Hass argued.

“One last day isn't going to hurt the horses,” Cain said. He glanced then to the horses, and caught DG watching. Quickly, she looked away, and focused intently on the buckle she was trying to work with numb fingers. There was a moments hesitation before Cain continued, unaffected. “We stable the critters and head out from the village on foot.”

She tightened the front cinch, reaching up when she was finished to give Juniper a scratch behind the ear for standing so still. Something about leaving her mare behind in the village didn't feel right.

Raw walked over to her slowly, hands tucked against his chest. He didn't look any warmer than she felt. She wondered briefly if she could hold the Emerald in her palms and use it to warm her fingers. Reaching her, Raw made no indication that he planned to speak. So she began to talk instead.

“You still glad you came out here to help us?” she asked Raw with a smile as she adjusted the flank cinch.

Raw looked at her quizzically, head quirked to one side. “Raw is where Raw should be,” he said. “No 'glad' in it.”

Her smile disappeared. Funny, how he could comfort her with so few words, with the merest look in her direction with his dark eyes, or a soft touch of his fingers. How had she existed her entire life without friends such as these...?

Raw set to work saddling his own beast; he was just smoothing out the wrinkles in the saddle blanket when Tory walked over, his knit cap pulled tightly down over his ears against the morning chill. “Good to see everyone so eager to get moving,” the kid said. He nodded over his shoulder to where Zero had joined Hass and Cain; even from the distance she stood at, DG could see the thin line Cain's lips had formed, and the narrow-gazed suspicion in Hass' eyes. She could feel their disdain at Zero's presence, both desiring nothing more than to knock the man unconscious and lock him away in a rusted, suffocating cell in the Tower. Or worse.

DG shook her head, tried to push it out of her mind. She knew that relying on Zero for help was wrong, that this dark secret kept hidden would never leave her for the rest of her days, but it had long since become clear to her that she wasn't pulling the strings. Daughter of Light, synonymous with puppet, pawn. The Gale playing scarce at the tomb only proved to DG that she wasn't to know what was coming. A trail of breadcrumbs, leading a weak trail she was to follow on blind instinct and common sense. She had her magic to help her, stronger than before... and at least she wasn't relying on her own long buried memories.

Tory said her name then, cutting into her thoughts. She went immediately back to her task, barely acknowledging his request to ask a question. “What did you promise him?” Tory asked finally. “To help. Zero, I mean.”

DG frowned, finding the stuttering sentence less than endearing. She wondered how he could act so flawlessly fifteen, when, by his own account, he was older than her greatest great-grandmother.

“Freedom,” she said low, muttering the single word and nothing else. The admission left an bitter taste on the tip of her tongue. Oh, burning, burning shame.

Tory snorted a laugh. “Well, that's what we're all after, isn't it?”

She didn't know what to say to that. She busied her hands and let herself become absorbed by the task of readying herself and the mare. When the saddle was secure, she reached down and picked up her sleeping roll and Cain's as well, belting them into place.

“DG unsure who to trust, who DG can trust,” Raw said, almost randomly. She looked up sharply. “Boy or Longcoat.”

She cleared her throat, realizing she had nothing more to do with her hands. To avoid looking up at the two pairs of eyes that had settled firmly on her, she unbuckled the saddlebag in front of her and began to rummage through the meagre contents.

“No point in trusting either,” she said after a moment. “We'll just do what needs to be done and go our separate ways.” In another week, if all went well - as it seldom did, but she wouldn't focus on that - she would never lay eyes on either Zero or Tory again. In light of what was to come, of what they would endure together, she couldn't say she'd miss them.

“Well, I've gotta say that kind of stings, Deeg,” Tory said. The genuine hurt in his voice caused her blue eyes to stop jumping around and settle on his dark ones. “Here.” Without hesitation, he shoved up the sleeve of his sweater and held his bare forearm out to Raw. “Read me.”

“No, that's not necessary,” DG interjected as Raw looked at her uncertainly.

“Yeah it is,” Tory insisted. He pushed his sleeve up a little higher, past the elbow. Goosebumps erupted on his flesh.

DG sighed, and nodded at Raw. “If you're up for it,” was all she could say.

Raw balked; she could see the internal struggle on his face, and hated that he'd been shoved into this kind of position. Raw had often offered up his gifts to aid his friends, but it had been a long time since she'd asked him to use his heartsight to further her own priorities. After a frown and a low growl, Raw wrapped his fingers around Tory's wrist; his hold on the boy jerked but stayed strong. His eyes snapped closed, and his breathing quickened minutely. DG glanced at Tory, and saw that his eyes had slipped closed as well, that a look of pure discomfort had overcome his features. The connection between the two lasted under a minute before Raw broke his grip and let the boy's arm fall.

“Never has Raw met soul like this,” the Viewer said sorrowfully; there were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. DG reached out and placed a hand on his arm. Raw squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from her touch. “Trapped. Angry. But... Boy not lie. Wants to help DG, wants to save O.Z.”

A tiny smile played on Tory's lips. “Told you so.” He walked away then; DG watched him heave his saddle off the fallen log turned makeshift saddle-rack and carry it over to the dun-coloured gelding that gazed at him reproachfully. Raw had gone back to his own horse, and seemed intent on shaking the entire thing off.

“Raw?” she asked tentatively. “Thanks. It means a lot that you -”

Raw held up a hand. “Don't say. Raw knows.”

She didn't have a chance to argue the point because at that moment Cain broke apart from Zero and made his way to her. Suppressed tension followed his every step. Behind him, Zero was laughing and shaking his head, smugly amused by something. She looked around for Hass but didn't see him until the branch above Zero's head bounced lightly as the falcon took wing, disappearing quickly into the densely shadowed fog.

“Is everything all right?” DG asked Cain.

“Yeah,” he said dismissively. “You three 'bout ready to leave?”

“Almost,” she said, speaking for the others who were still bridling their horses. She tried to catch his eyes but he looked away, making a point to check over the job she'd done with the mare. She pursed her lips together, determined not to say anything, but that didn't last long. It never did. She caught hold of the sleeve of his duster and pulled him away from the others. He gave no resistance, but still didn't look at her. “Is everything all right?” she repeated in a careful whisper.

“As right as can be expected,” he said, and finally fixed a piercing blue stare on her. Wilfully, she returned it. “A full days ride should take us near Byvasser. Zero plans on makin' the contact, though there's no tellin' how cooperative the man is gonna be.”

DG swallowed hard. He'd just told her, without outright saying of course, when the reins would be handed over to Zero. When they would all be effectively handed over to Zero. She forced down a shudder and looked away.

“What'll we do if he's not?” she asked.

“We'll have to cross that gorge when we come to it,” he said, and then he smirked at his use of the expression. The actual, physical Crack in the O.Z. wasn't their only obstacle to be faced that day.

DG risked a glance up at him; he wasn't looking down at her, was looking out into the fog, into the fields that stretched onto where their eyes couldn't see. She wondered what he saw out there in the grey haze; with every minute that passed, the morning around them lightened.

As if reading her mind, he said, “We're wastin' our daylight.” He put a hand on her back, effectively turning her in the direction he wanted her to go, toward the others. With a gentle nudge, he got her moving and was close behind her. If they were going to get anywhere that day, it would have to start with a single step.

Cain was determined to lead them as far and as safely as he could, of that DG was certain. The darkness that encompassed the future was more frightening than she cared to admit.

Storm's coming.

***

Jeb's eyes followed the suns that morning. Dawn came and went; the hours marched fleetingly on.

News of the overdue shipment from the village arrived with impeccable timing.

The Lady Catt had asked his opinion; this fact alone had him on edge. The book lie forgotten, shoved away and half-covered by scrolls and maps. She'd been in deep conference with her generals most of the morning, an obsession with DG's unrevealed intentions taking over. Inability to find the princess urging her to search all the harder.

“Find the girl and you find the stone,” she'd repeat to herself under her breath as she poured over the maps.

It was mid-morning when a perimeter scout charged into the tent unannounced.

Catticalisa's head snapped up, her face twisted in impatience at the interruption. “What is it?” she barked.

The young scout stammered at the furious wave he was greeted with. “There - there's trouble.”

Here we go, Jeb thought, eyes focused on the very edge of the table, where the book's spine poked out.

“What sort of trouble?” the Lady asked carefully.

“The escort sent to receive the munitions shipment from the village hasn't returned, my Lady.”

Jeb's eyebrows shot up; his poor attempt at concealing his surprise went unnoticed, as two of the generals Catticalisa had been meeting with both shouted out demands for information, drawing all attention in the tent to them. Jeb was overlooked. A moment later, the Lady Catt held up a hand and hissed for the men to silence. With great difficulty, the two generals managed. The third, Cole, stood back reservedly, eyes on the floor. It was this stony silence that Jeb found more troublesome than the shouts and curses of the others.

“When were they due back?” she asked.

“Two hours ago, my Lady,” the soldier said promptly. “Men have already been deployed to search.”

“From Shadow's Passage?”

“Yes, my Lady. Th-” The soldier paused, and cast a long, wary glance at the Lady Catt. “It is possible they fell under attack and were arrested.”

The Lady Catt shook her head. “Azkadellia's men?”

“The borders of the forest have been thick with royal army scouts,” the soldier said.

With a grand, sweeping gesture over the table, all the paper, maps and clutter on the tabletop was thrown to the floor with a faint ripple of light. All that remained on the wooden surface was the book. The Lady Catt snatched it up and cracked it open; she held it tucked against her body.

“What of Hardy?” she demanded of the soldier. “Where is my shipment?”

Jeb watched the man cringe under the barrage of the witch. “Our information is limited, my Lady. All is being done.”

“No,” she snapped. “Not all.” She looked down at the book cradled in her arms. “Show me Graham Hardy of Byvasser.”

A light shone from the page of the book, the brightness of the suns in the forming picture reflecting off her pale skin. Catticalisa shook her head slowly, anger causing her lips to curl. Every single man occupying the tent fell silent and listened to the beating of hooves coming from the book.

“He's on the run,” she said scathingly, and threw the book down on the table, its pages still open. Jeb could see the picture on the page moving, the whir and blur of green and brown accompanied by the frenzied pounding of horseshoes on a hard-packed dirt road.

“He could be anywhere,” Cole spoke up, jerking his chin toward the book. “There's no telling where in the Zone he is.”

Catt was quiet and contemplative, and it chilled Jeb to the bone. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips twisted in a snarl. She paced behind the table with her hands on her hips, watching as her contact in the village ran for his life.

Jeb kept his eyes on the floor. Graham Hardy had been feeding information to the royal army for months; he had good reason to think his life might be in danger if something had gone amiss with the shipment. Had Azkadellia's soldiers intervened? Had Azkadellia finally come to the conclusion that action must be taken to resolve this conflict?

Something wasn't making sense. What had befallen the men who'd gone to receive the shipment from Hardy? And had Travers been able to slip away, or had he too suffered the same fate?

“General Cole,” the Lady Catt said suddenly. “You are to lead a small company of my soldiers to the village. I want to know where Hardy has gone. Keep a low profile, and report back to me immediately. We'll deal with this quickly.”

Cole stalked out of the tent. Jeb watched him go, realizing that things were spinning out of control. He'd spent the morning expecting the shipment to arrive with one less soldier guarding it. Neither the weapons or the men had made it back to the camp at all.

News came back a few hours later that the bodies of three of the soldiers had been recovered. The Lady had received this news with a calm that unnerved Jeb; he spent the next hour watching her carefully. She seemed to have shifted focus completely; DG and his father had been thrown right out of her thoughts once again, and the eye of the book was trained on the retreating back of the Byvasser informant.

The generals warned Catticalisa that the window of opportunity in which to launch their offensive against the royal family was shrinking ever smaller, and at an exceedingly rapid rate. She waved them off with righteous fury. She was confident that she would still come out with the upper hand over Azkadellia.

Jeb waited, and listened. And as he did, he hoped to hell and back that his father and DG knew what they were doing, and that Travers had broken past the lines and was on his way to Az's generals. Everything, including his own fate, rested outside his hands.

With his eyes closed and his head bowed, long forgotten by those he eavesdropped on, Jeb Cain silently sent up the prayer of lost children.

***

Wood smoke hung low in the air and tinted the village a hazy grey. There were no people on the streets, or at least, none on the quiet little avenue which the window faced. A few rooms had been rented from the proprietor of the public house, a handful of extra platinum thrown his way to make sure their presence remained unnoticed. Cain had reservations about staying in town; he'd wanted to make camp in the woods beyond the village, but DG had nagged and cajoled until she convinced him that running water, soft beds, and a warm meal would do everyone good.

Now, they were settled in as best they could be. Two small bedrooms were joined by a central receiving room and it was in this sitting area that they gathered to nervously pace in relative peace. She'd done laps around all four walls, scanning the few titles that graced the empty shelves, gazing into poorly done watercolour paintings and trying to see past the mistakes, the misuse of colour and brush-stroke. Finally, she'd come to a rest at one of the four windows, drawing apart the curtains with her hands.

It was at the window she became anchored, her breath fogging up the glass. Here, she found purchase from the storm brewing around her, and watched for Zero's return.

Zero had gone in search of Graham Hardy, a merchant who had contacts with both the insurgents of Lady Catt and the royal army. Hardy was a veritable font of knowledge, according to Zero, and would be able to tell them of roads, patrols, pitfalls, and just about everything in between. It was why the army had recruited him. Though, whether Hardy would be willing to help their clandestine cause at all, she couldn't guess. She couldn't imagine anyone wanting to dig deeper into trouble than this Hardy had already done for himself.

DG gripped the curtain a little tighter between her fingers. Behind her, Cain, Hass, and Tory had surrounded the dining table, a map spread out under the lamp. She didn't have to look at the map at all; in her mind, she could see it perfectly... still, she knew her route by heart, and didn't need any reminding.

“Central City is a day's ride North,” Cain said. “Azkadellia's generals are parked here to the South.” She imagined him drawing a line across the soft, worn paper. “Now, our problem is that our generals don't know they're bein' watched by Catt and this book. Its likely enough she knows every move they're makin' before they make it.”

“That's another day's ride, isn't it?” Tory asked. “Lemme ask you something, what use is the invention of the automobile if you don't maintain the roads outside Central?”

“You sound like DG,” Hass said, a smirk evident in his voice.

“That's because he's got a point,” DG said, turning away from the window and the view of the dark streets below. Both Tory and Hass looked up as she approached the table, but Cain continued to study the map as if she weren't crossing the room, sidling up beside him, brushing his arm with her own. “The lines aren't going to change, Tin Man,” she said slowly, nudging him. He turned his sharp blue eyes on her, and she refrained from backing away from the intensity of his gaze.

“Don't matter where the lines are,” he said, and broke their eye contact as he let his head hang.

A heavy silence fell over the room. DG pursed her lips together as she stared down at the faint red and blue trails criss-crossing the map, cutting through expanses of green and brown. Thicker yellow lines snaked across the paper, all leading to the center of the map, where Central City was marked with the image of a glowing gem that resembled the Emerald. Central City, where her sister ruled from a shining tower; DG's eyes raked upward, following the curving yellow trail to the unmarked sea near the northernmost border, where her mother and father rested amid the icy beauty of permanent winter.

She'd promised her mother that she'd come to the Northern Island once her task was done. A goal that seemed almost attainable, and yet so out of reach that she wondered it if was all a lost cause.

“There's still one major problem,” Tory said, shattering the silence. DG's eyes snapped up from the outline of the Northern Sea.

“Just one?” she asked with a scoff.

Tory ignored her. “Let's say Zero gets the exact location of where we bypass the shield from the informant, this Hardy guy. And let's say we manage to get into forest without being detected, and we make it to the shield without being captured, and hey, for the hell of it, let's say we make it into the witch's camp.”

DG looked down at the map again, to where the Black Forest loomed so dangerously close to the dot that was the village of Byvasser. Cain's hands rested on the edge of the table, his white knuckled grip tightening. She glanced up at him, only to see him staring openly at the kid, with piercing eyes that would have sent her running for cover.

Tory didn't even blink, only continued coolly. “Let's just say everything goes off without a hitch.”

“Fine,” Cain growled. “Everythin' goes off without a hitch. You'd better be makin' your point quick unless you want a little help along with it.”

“My point is that we aren't going to be able to do this alone,” Tory said, deadpan. “Between destroying the stone like she says she wants to do, and killing Catt once and for all, the princess and myself are going to be rendered pretty damn useless. Defenceless.”

Hass straightened from leaning over the table, his shoulders squaring. “DG'll have us. You both will.”

Tory laughed, and shook his head. “Catt'll kill you without a second thought,” he said solemnly. “Cain, too. Maybe Raw, maybe not, she might see some usefulness in him.”

From his shadowed corner of the room, Raw spoke up for the first time since arriving in the village. “Boy is right. Cain in danger. Corporal in danger.”

“Everyone is in danger,” Cain snapped, letting go of the table. “That fact was assured some time ago. The kid here means splittin' up. Sendin' him and DG into the forest alone with Zero, the rest of us bunkerin' down like cowards waitin' for the storm to pass.”

“No,” DG said firmly. “That isn't going to happen.” She turned to Cain and put a hand on his shoulder, willing him to meet her eyes, but the blue of his gaze was settled on the kid, blatant and disdainful. There were butterflies in her stomach, damn little stampeding butterflies. “Wyatt?”

“Do you want to watch him die?” Tory asked her.

“She won't be watchin' any of us die,” Cain said calmly, his own stubbornness showing through in his refusal to let anything affect him.

“She will if she lets you follow her into the forest!” Tory said adamantly. “Do you think she'll get one of her soldiers to do it, quick clean shot to the head? Or do you think she'll do it herself? You ever see someone have their soul sucked out through their mouth, Captain Cain? Its not pretty.”

Cain snorted. “Don't expect it is.”

DG trembled slightly. A memory surfaced, forcing its way out of the deepest corner of her mind where she had shoved all her most unpleasant remembrances. A vision of watching death through rusted iron bars, of watching a man's skin grow grey and cold as his very life was drawn out of his mouth in a wickedly twisted imitation of a lover's tender kiss. The satisfied shimmer of the Sorceress' skin as the stolen energy flowed through her veins, both strengthening and weakening her.

“Would she -” DG started, then stopped. She closed her eyes momentarily, the onslaught of the memory still holding her in its grasp. She could recall - didn't want to! The Mystic Man's body hit the floor with a sickening crash; DG jumped. When she opened her eyes, Tory and Hass were looking at her as if she were insane. Cain and Raw, however, had seen her like this before, and stayed respectfully quiet. “Catt - can she do that?”

“Yeah,” Tory said slowly, stating an obvious fact to an ignorant child. “You could, too. Or me... though I'll admit I'd probably kill myself attempting it. Its very old magic, and natural, the intent being -”

“Enough!” DG snapped, and the electrical lighting flickered. She looked around the room at the four men who were so very concerned about her well-being that they would put their own lives in danger without giving it a second thought. Or, perhaps they had given it a second thought. Determined to see it through, see her through.

Raw stood from his chair, a movement that was quiet and graceful. He said her name, his words as careful as the gesture of his hand as he reached out to her. A comforting hand, nothing more, but she turned away from him, mumbling an excuse to the others that she was tired, not feeling well, just a headache... she must have given them every one in her book that had never gotten her out of school, dress fittings, magic lessons, or benefit dinners.

She closed the door and locked it. No one followed her or called out after her; no one knocked.

With a sigh that shook her entire body, she crossed the dark room until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She twisted her body and fell down upon the bed, and tried to shut out the image of the Mystic Man's final moments.

***

Wyatt Cain leaned over the table with his back to the bedroom door. He didn't need to look at the clock to know that not fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time he'd looked at it. He couldn't quite tell what was jangling his nerves more, Zero's ever-extended absence, or the princess' retreat into the bedroom.

“He's been gone too long, Captain,” Hass said in a hushed tone.

Cain only nodded grimly.

Byvasser wasn't a large community. Sure, it had seen less destruction during the time of the Emerald War, but that was simply due to the denizens willingness to cooperate with, and even aid the Longcoats. Probably the first and foremost reason the Lady Catt had gone seeking allies here to help supply her army with provisions and weapons for her forthcoming assault on Central City and Azkadellia.

And into the West, courting that sonuvabitch Outlander, he thought darkly. They'd walked right into that one, and had been paying the price ever since. Would continue to pay, until the witch was dead and no longer after their hides with a vengeance.

“Longcoat will be back,” Raw spoke up from his shadowy corner. “No other safe place to go.”

Painfully slowly, the minutes marched past. Hass had taken up watch at the window, and Tory had taken a seat near Raw on the sofa. The boy's head was nodding, fighting sleep. Raw was so deep in thought, Cain doubted rogue Papay could have dragged him out of it.

With a heavy sigh, Cain ran his hand over his face. He walked a slow lap around the room, pausing by DG's door to listen for any noise coming from within, but he heard only empty silence. The hour was growing late, maybe she'd just gone to sleep.

Something the kid said had spooked her. The girl was a pale one, but she seemed to have gone another shade whiter when Tory had gotten onto the subject of death. Now, Cain couldn't put his finger on just what had gotten her all worked up, just knew that something had. She'd skipped out on them before he could see or ask just what it was. And here he was, left to speculate as he leaned fists-down on the table, brain trying to pull him in a hundred different directions and his heart focused on pulling him in just one.

Finally, a faint pounding up the stairs became the heavy footfalls in the hallway. The door to the sitting room was wrenched open; Cain's hand was firmly settled on the grip of his revolver and a flick of his eyes discerned Hass taking a similarly defensive stance. Zero entered, pulling down the dark hood covering his head to reveal his blonde hair and a particularly disturbing look marring his features.

“What went wrong,” Cain demanded immediately.

Zero shook his head angrily as he extracted himself from the cloak. He threw it down on the sofa, close to where the kid was now jumping to his feet. Raw slowly followed the boy's lead and was standing while Zero looked around to regard each of the four that watched him.

“Where's the girl?” he asked.

“Sleepin'. What went wrong?” Cain repeated shortly.

Zero snorted derisively. “Hardy's gone. That wrong enough for you, Cain?”

“Hardy's gone?” Tory asked incredulously, coming closer to the table and the circle of lamplight at the center of the room.

Cain pushed himself away from the table hard enough to rattle it on its wooden legs; the slight panic in the kid's voice was more than unsettling.

“All but vanished,” Zero confirmed. “Missus says he's off on business, but there isn't a business the man was in that took him any farther than a few spans outside the village. Any honest business, anyway.”

“If the contact is missing,” Hass said slowly, walking back toward the window. He pulled the curtain back bare inches as he peered out into the cold night, seeing more than Cain was sure he himself could. “That means that we're probably not going to be the only ones on the lookout for him.”

Cain swore under his breath. “Corporal, I want the village perimeters scouted,” he said, low and level. “And I want the streets swept. I wanna know if there's anyone skulkin' around out there that shouldn't be.”

Hass nodded sharply, and left the room without a word. Easier, it might have been, to open the window and shift right there, but Cain wasn't complaining. He'd never felt exactly comfortable seeing a body shift, it was like prying into something that oughtn't be seen. Others might not see it that way - Tutor, for one, had never been ashamed or shy about his gift.

“The daughter looks like she might talk,” Zero said.

“You ain't bargin' in there to scare the daylights outta some little girl,” Cain said firmly, returning to the table. Palms flat on the wood, he stared at the spaces between his splayed fingers.

Zero laughed. “Then feel free to do the interrogating yourself, Cain,” he said, a wide grin cracked across his lips. His voice dripped with innuendo, and it took most of Cain's fleeting restraint to keep staring at the tabletop instead of stalking over and slamming Zero into the wall by the collar - although that never failed to make him feel better.

“We make no decisions until morning,” Cain said, addressing the boy and Raw. Zero, he could barely find the concern to even acknowledge. The man's usefulness was coming to nil, and most of Cain's conscience was leaning toward putting a bullet in the man's brain to save the lot of them - and the O.Z. - the bother.

But it was the kid in front of him that had convinced DG that Zero was her key into the forest. Some key, that didn't know where the door was he was meant to unlock. Godsdamn them all, but they were knee-deep in trouble.

Tory seemed not to notice or care that no one was actively seeking suggestions. “By morning, Hardy'll be nearly halfway to Quick City,” he exclaimed. “Farther if he manages to wheel it.”

Cain rolled his eyes. Quick City was in the distant Northwest, one of the last outposts before the treacherous North mountains, and about as far from the Black Forest as one was like to get without freezing to death. His notion of the kid as an ignorant Slipper faltered a little more with each passing day; the kid truly held an extensive grasp of life in the O.Z. Even after an annual, DG still had trouble dealing with the way things were - the differences between the Other Side and this side. Tory had done a thorough job of convincing everyone he'd just been some lost kid stumbling about. The transition was a lot slower in Cain's mind than it was real to life.

“If he's on the run, there ain't anywhere he can go where that book won't find him,” Cain said, head hanging as he regarded the grain of the wood his hands rested on. He threw all his weight into his arms, holding himself steady and still. Moving at that moment wasn't a plausible option. “We find out what we can from the daughter come mornin'. Then we head Southeast, see if we can't find a way to sneak in if it comes down to it.”

An aggravated growl - one that didn't come from his own throat - reached Cain's ears, and he lifted his head in slight surprise at the kid. Tory had situated himself opposite Cain, with the table between. His dark eyes were sparking angrily in the lamplight. “You can't,” he said simply, though fury seeped through the words.

“I don't recall you bein' the one to give orders around here,” Cain said levelly. No doubt about it, he didn't like the kid's eyes. Too dark and deep and knowing in such a youthful face; an ultimate contradiction.

“No, that would be DG,” Tory said with a smirk. “Remember, she's the one that's been marching your ass up one side of the country and down the other since you met her?”

Cain just shook his head and didn't answer. He thought of DG, most likely faking sleep in the other room. “We leave the village tomorrow,” he repeated finally. “Isn't anythin' to be done to change that. We aren't stayin' here to sit on our hands.”

“You'll get yourself caught and killed, Cain,” Tory snapped. “I wish to hell you'd all listen to me. You and Hass might as well have numbers carved into your foreheads! And you want to take Raw in there? Yes, please, give Lady Catt a Viewer to play with. Make her job all the easier!”

A soft snarl sounded from the corner. Raw crossed the room and came to stand at Cain's side of the table. “Raw go with DG. No one dies.”

“Stubborn, loyal idiots!” Tory exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. “I know what I'm saying! Would you get it through that thick head of yours, Cain, and consider for a minute that I know what I'm talking about? I've got more years than the three of you put together!”

“If you're so eager to have us all partin' ways, you know where the door is, Kid. Maybe us loyal idiots will follow your noble example.”

Throughout the exchange, Zero had stood quietly by, his jaw clenched as he watched Cain and Tory stand off with a map dividing them. Now he spoke up, his voice hoarse. “Get on to bed, Kid,” he said. “The hero here says nothing is happening until morning. Wouldn't mind getting a few hours of sleep myself. Long walk ahead tomorrow.”

Tory turned on Zero, glaring heatedly, but the words seemed to sink in. With a put-out sigh and a lot of mumbling, the kid retreated to the second, empty bedroom. Cain expected a door slam, but instead the door was shut softly and there wasn't another sound.

“It wouldn't affect me any if you decided to head into that forest and get yourself killed,” Zero said coldly. “But I plan on doing exactly what I was brought on for. Plan being the operative word. I suggest you figure out what you're doing before you get in my way. I'll do what needs to be done to make sure I'm not the one on the receiving end of Catt's kiss.”

He stormed out of the sitting room, into the hallway and down the stairs, the pounding of his footsteps carrying on in the lull that had settled down on Cain and Raw, the only two remaining.

With a steady hand, Raw folded up the map and handed it to Cain; his movements expressed more than if he'd tried to speak. Cain finally pushed himself away from the table, arms aching. His coat and hat had long since been abandoned on a chair; he thought about bunking down on the sofa for the long night ahead, but decided he wouldn't be getting any sleep until he checked up on his princess.

He put a hand on Raw's shoulder as he passed him. “Get some sleep,” he said.

Raw chuckled gently. “Raw would say same,” he said, shaking his head, “but Raw knows better.”

DG's door was locked. Cain knocked softly, calling out her name. Moments later, the click of the lock sounded as the doorknob grew warm. Cain opened the door and slipped into the room without a sound. All was dark, and the only light came from the faint line spilling out from underneath the bathroom door.

Crossing the room, he knocked again. The door, unlatched, swung inward. DG was standing at the sink, half undressed and her hair damp, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was still pale, and she was frowning, and it took him a moment to realize at what, exactly. When he stepped close enough to put a hand on her arm, he noticed.

Inside the glass danced a ribbon of faint green light. It shimmered and shone, winding in and out of itself.

“What in -”

“Shh,” DG hissed. She reached out and touched the glass. There was a flash as the ribbon of light connected with her fingertip. With a sigh, DG trailed her finger across the mirror, the light following obediently. When she finally dragged her finger away, the light gave another wink and disappeared.

“The kid?” Cain asked, catching sight of his own reflection.

DG shook her head. “No, someone else.”

Cain raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“I don't know,” she said softly, and caught his eyes in the glass. She turned and buried herself in his chest, and he let his arms fall around her waist, letting her take the lead. There was a slight tremble to her form, a chill that had settled over her skin like frost. “The Gale, maybe. Its the only option that doesn't terrify me, I think I'll go with it.”

“So we're back to avoidin' the mirror?” Cain asked her.

“Like the plague,” she said with a shudder. There was a beat of silence, and then she looked up at him with an inquisitive tweak at the corner of her mouth. “You staying with me tonight, Tin Man?”

Cain cleared his throat. “Came to see what sent you skitterin' earlier,” he told her. She shifted the smallest inch toward him, pressing the length of her body against his, and he clenched his teeth to keep his hands from gripping at her sides. She ducked her head into his shoulder, unwilling to look at him and instead mumbling her answer into the collar of his shirt.

“It was nothing,” she said, her voice so muffled by cotton and wool that he barely heard it, close as she was.

“Wasn't just nothin',” he insisted. “Its a little late in the game to be keepin' secrets, Deeg.”

Her head snapped up and she glared at him, a ferocity in her blue eyes that he rarely saw - or at least, that was rarely directed at him.

“I am not keeping secrets,” she said adamantly. “You want me to come right out and say that I'm scared to death of something happening to someone because of me? Especially you, its -” She cut herself off, shaking her head as she ran her hands through her hair. The damp curls clung to her fingers.

“This ain't like you, DG,” he said, trying to tone down the harshness that wanted to surface. It wouldn't do any good to have her going to pieces over the thought of what could happen. Since when had she ever been the one to bat an eyelash in the face of certain danger and possible death?

“I think I'm just overtired,” she said, and then laughed at herself, at her own obvious comment. They were all sleep deprived. The bed, with the sheets already turned down, looked mighty inviting to Cain's increasingly foggy mind, but he wasn't about to rest until he was sure the world wasn't going to shift underneath of his feet while he was out.

“Hardy's pulled a disappearin' act. You and me are gonna go talk to the his daughter come mornin',” Cain told her, as he put a hand on her shoulder and guided her not-so-gently toward the bed. She didn't put up much of a fuss, but she fought a bit against his influence. Never one to go easily. As she crawled into the bed and situated herself comfortably, he checked the window latches and closed the curtains. A sweep of the room proved nothing out of the ordinary, and he allowed himself a breath of relief.

“Where's the stone?” he asked absently.

“Put away,” she said with a tired smile. “No one'll find it, even if they were looking.”

He fought back a smirk. The answer satisfied him well enough. “I'll be outside your door if you're in need of anythin',” he told her.

Curled in the center of the bed, she made quite the picture; her head fallen back on the pillow, dark hair spilling around her as her arms were thrown casually, comfortably above her head. She was watching him expectantly, but he knew it wouldn't be long until those blue eyes closed on their own.

“There's no asking you to stay, is there?” she asked him, her voice breaking near the wind-down of her sentence. She yawned widely, too sated to cover her mouth. “I sleep better when you're with me.”

That makes two of us, Sweetheart, he thought with a frown. He didn't fancy the thought of spending the night sprawled out in one of the cheap armchairs that were scattered throughout the sitting room, but he couldn't keep a close eye on the others - the boy and Zero especially - if he were locked in here with DG.

“Sleep tight, Princess,” he muttered as he leaned down to place a kiss in her hair. She placed her hand over his, where he'd placed it on the mattress to support his weight as he lowered himself to her. He stayed longer than he should, his face hovering over hers, their fingertips touching on the crisp white sheet.

“Goodnight, Mr. Cain,” she said, her eyes slipping closed.

***

Armed and bitterly cold, the solitary soldier stood at his post. The darkness beyond the circle of light thrown by his torch was all consuming, but it didn't bother him much. Watch duty was an abysmal task, but there were worse things. He'd rather be out here in the fields than stuck guarding prisoners at the Tower, or worse, assigned to the royal guard in Central City. No, this type of work suited him fine.

Somewhere far at his back, the camp was hidden by trees, only the faintest light from the fires evidence of its existence. No one would know the camp was there, if they weren't looking for it. Exactly what the generals seemed to bank on.

Through the whisper of the wind and the rushing of leaves in the trees, another sound reached the soldier's ears. Straining to hear it, he slid the holding strap of his rifle off his shoulder and aimed his firearm out into the darkness.

“Hold!” he called out in a loud, clear voice that belied his nerves. This blasted darkness was playing tricks with his mind.

The sound came steadily closer; only a few moments passed before the soldier discerned the beat of hooves on the road. A rider coming forward at breakneck speed.

Lowering his rifle, the soldier reached out and removed the blazing torch from its mounting bracket.

“Hold!” he called out again, his voice carrying into the night. “Who's out there?”

The movement in the darkness caught his eye, and he mounted the torch again and raised his rifle just in time for the the rider to rein his horse in for a hard stop, the beast kicking up gravel as it tried to stop on a pinhead. The rider was dismounting and on his own feet, knees buckling as he hit the ground. The soldier's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the rider, his bloodstained clothes and face streaked with dirt.

“Take me to Andrus,” the rider panted. “Now. Its urgent.”

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