"Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run"
Title: Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain/DG, Glitch, Raw, Tutor (includes other major and minor characters)
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: The journey through the southern mountains has begun to test the resolve of the companions, growing ever closer to their destination, all of them keeping close to heart the reasons why they continue to walk their road.
Chapter Twenty Four: The End of the Road
The Ruby Mountains of the south were one of four ranges that surrounded the O.Z. on all sides, leaving the landlocked nation virtually cut-off from the rest of the world. Centuries before, in times of greater peace, the remote passes through the mountains had been open and maintained for trade with those neighbouring countries willing to brave the crossing of the sandsea.
Historically, that was before the time of Gales. The first queen, DG's namesake, fairytales or no, had closed all the routes, eliminating foreign dependence almost overnight. Her successors strove for an self-sustained nation, and over the intervening century, until the beginning of the Emerald War, the Outer Zone's only contact with countries beyond the sandsea was her export of moritanium, channelled through the single port city of Qhoyre.
Cain had heard the city had been razed after the Fall of Central City, second only to Finaqua in the Sorceress' path of destruction. In a single, terrible night, she'd effectively eliminated the only link with world beyond her mountainous borders. It was said to have been a massacre.
All of this, Cain had only learned after the war, during the weeks he'd spent in the city before leaving for good - or at least, from the aftermath of breaking away from DG and the rest until the messenger had come a calling.
Their original route through the plains of Colibri was to have taken them close to the harbour in the extreme southeast, and he was glad to have avoided it. However, the farther south they went, the more he began to wonder if the road on which they travelled - nameless, ageless - was just a little too straight, and more than a little too easy.
Just what were they walking into?
Overlooking the rocky valley choked with scraggly brush, the road that ran along the ridge was conspicuously clear. The suns were warm, their light blinding, and the view provided to the east and south seemed to stretch on into forever, putting into harsh perspective how far yet they had to go. The road stayed at a steady, relatively low altitude, the day spent in the shade of the dense forest of fir and balsam poplar.
The smell of the dust hanging in the lazy afternoon, the sharp scent of leaves as the breeze caught them - Cain could honestly say he had the passing hope of walking on until the end of time, never reaching anywhere and never going back. He'd see DG gazing off into the distance - not south, no, but to the east - and he'd wonder just what continued to go on in that head of hers. He didn't like the quiet sighs, the emptiness of expression as her blue eyes took in the world that was supposed to have been hers, before she'd been sent away.
The mountains were beginning to wear on the determination that had carried her this far. It seemed every mile now worked against her, to weaken her resolve.
And he'd encouraged her to go on. The night before, his arm fit snug around her waist, her head nestled against his neck; she'd fallen asleep against him, and it was only when his watch had ended that he'd roused her by running his hand through her hair, and ushered her back to her own cold bedroll.
That night, he'd slept a dreamless sleep, and had woken to find that the guilt he'd become so accustomed to had abated - a bare sliver, but still something beyond what he'd ever thought to expect.
For the moment, it changed nothing. He knew, had always known, that he had no right to let this happen. When it became abundantly clear that DG was more imminent a danger than witches, insurgents, or anything else the Zone might have in mind to throw at him, he knew that he couldn't, wouldn't, allow her to continue to lean on him, to burrow her way closer.
For all that day, that morning after, he fought against the part of himself that had been comforted simply by the nearness they'd experienced. He was human, after all, and loneliness had been his common companion during his self-imposed exile to the east. That was the way he'd wanted it, the way he'd planned it, no matter the steep price; he'd left her alone, even after she'd shown her hand just to convince him to stay, and all to inflict upon himself the solitude that had become the only way he'd known how to live.
She'd told him once that she'd been waiting for him to come back on his own. It seemed her patience knew no bounds.
As the hazy afternoon passed into cold, clear evening, and they stopped to rest their tired beasts and their own weary minds, she came to him again. It was near ritual now to wait for the others to fall asleep, to seek him out as he took the first watch. He was no longer surprised to find her settling down next to him, not after so many nights on the road, but still, he was wary of her presence. Never before had he been so critical of her ease with him, her careful way of seeking closeness, as if ever ready to spring away if things went wrong.
He wanted to anchor her against him, to show her she never need run, but she seemed content to link her arm with his once more, to brush her fingers over the back of his hand, to slowly entwine them with his once she was convinced he wouldn't snatch himself away.
"I miss her," she whispered quietly.
Cain had no reply.
His reticence didn't seem to affect her. "I don't want to draw her any more, it makes me miss her too much."
"Then what do you draw?" he asked, annoyed with his own curiosity. Every night, without fail, she sat down with her sketchbook to the dying light, and only the mutt was privileged with an occasional peek as he curled in the dirt beside her.
"I still draw her. My hand doesn't seem to want to stop. But -" And she stopped, sighed, tightened her grip on his fingers. Giving himself that one little inch, he'd squeezed her back. "- But in my mind, I see her getting better, and that's how it comes out on the paper."
"The heart wants what it wants," was his only offer.
"I wish she hadn't sent us to Finaqua."
"I know, darlin'."
"I should be there, no matter what she said. I'm not dangerous." Said with such conviction, the reflection of the firelight in her eyes gave an ominous effect. "I'm not."
"You don't need to convince me."
"Maybe I'm trying to convince myself," she said.
He frowned. "Now that I don't believe." She tried to pull her hand free, but he held fast. "You know well as anyone the difference between what you can do, and what you will do."
Sighing, she laid her cheek upon his shoulder, her attempt at escape already forgotten. She stared down at their tangled fingers; he watched her carefully. "I also know the difference between what I will - would - do, and what I'd be willing to do."
Her words gave him pause. He waited for her to look up at him, to seek him out with those sky eyes, cast as golden as first sunrise in the firelight, but she only focused intently on her small hand wrapped in his.
"DG -"
"A danger," she said, a mere whisper. "Just as she was, careless with her power when she passed it to a little kid. If I'm willing to go all this way, dragging all of you along with me, to chase after stories..."
"You aren't draggin' us," he said firmly. "Glitch is pushing us, too. Mind you, none of us would even be out here if it weren't for the mutt."
"Don't call him that."
"So long as you stop your griping, it's a deal."
DG looked up at him sharply, her mouth screwed up in an unhappy line. He could see her working fast to come up with a fitting tongue-lashing for him, so he said what he needed to before she worked herself up into a righteous huff.
"You're doing what you think is right. Not a one of us can argue it."
She squirmed a bit, then said, "You tried."
Cain chuckled, unable to help it. "I did - and I lost. Get it through your head, kiddo, I'm no sore loser."
The next day, against everything his logical mind could come up with, Cain near doubled their pace. Now entering the fifth day out of the wayside village of Ammenium, he hoped the end was soon in sight. The map of the Qualdin Basin that Glitch had pocketed in the village was soon to be of little use to them. The broad expanse between the Ruby Mountains and the Bur'zaen Overlook was unmarked. Glitch's best estimation was grassland, perhaps open steppe. Gauging distance, it would take them less than a day to traverse it.
The thought of crossing out in the open didn't sit well with Cain, but even without having ever seen the ends of the O.Z. with his own eyes, he knew there would be no other option for them. Their best chance was to cross come nightfall, to come upon whatever waited for them in the clear light of the morning suns.
So, he pushed, and the others willingly went.
It was still early when their road, snaking along the top of the ridge, rose over the lake Glitch had mentioned the night they'd come to the crossroad. Cain had expected the pristine sights Finaqua had imparted upon him, but he was disappointed with murky, brackish water. The rocky basin it filled was stained a rusty red with the annuals of rising and lowering with the spring run-off. Even now, the swell of water rushing down the hillside opposite their road was white with force; he did not like to imagine what elements could discolour the depths, and had no interest in asking Glitch for his thoughts on the matter.
The suns were coming to the height of their arc when their road changed direction; the ridge continued to curve its way around the lake, the cliffs pockmarked with caves and chasms, but the path which they'd followed narrowed and turned once again into the thickest part of the forest that had encroached upon them these last few days. The trees closed in and the suns all but disappeared. DG said aloud that it almost felt like being swallowed; Cain didn't at all disagree, and it did nothing to improve the sense of foreboding that was rapidly beginning to grow in the back of his mind.
It was cool under the trees, and the stillness of the early afternoon hung with the lush verdancy of summer. Every now and again, it was possible to catch glimpses of blue sky through the boughs that reached far over the road, dappling them with sunslight. Somewhere deep in the trees, he could hear Toto barking.
It hadn't escaped Cain's notice that the old teacher had had little to say since Ammenium. In fact, he'd had nothing to say at all, as he'd not shifted back to a two-legged standing position since the morning they'd left the village. Problem was, there were words needing to be had. While it would be fine to speak them, as there was nothing wrong with the dog's ears, after all, Cain had questions he wanted answered before nightfall came, and he knew he would end up going out of his way to get them.
Hours later, however, opportunity still hadn't presented itself. It wasn't until the hottest part of the afternoon when he decided to force himself to act. The road went its way through a grassy meadow clinging to the banks of a wide, shallow creek. The bridge that spanned the water was in severe disrepair, the rotten planks broken and dangling down into the fast-moving flow.
"We'll stop here," he said.
DG, as expected, spoke up. "Can't we keep going until dark?" she asked. When he dismounted and turned to look at her, she was glancing up at the sky, perhaps attempting to judge the time by the suns. The sceptical line of her mouth proved to him she was having little luck.
"The horses need the rest," was his only response. "A few hours ain't gonna set us back by much."
"A few hours!" In her incredulity, there was more life in her than he'd seen in a handful of days, and he could almost say that it lightened the burden pressing on his chest - almost.
"We could all use a rest, DG," Glitch said, his feet hitting the ground moments later. He gave his mount an affectionate pat, smiling gently all the while. "I'll bet there's some silver-speck perch in that stream. We could try our hand at fishing. There's tackle in my -"
"That's a fine idea," Cain said, and fixed his eyes on the princess. Her frustration was clear as glass on her face, but to her credit, she managed to keep her tongue. When their eyes met, her face turned to pleading, but he only shook his head at her. "We got another thirty miles or less before we're out of the woods."
"Cross in the dark," Raw said. "Safer, no rushing."
"So I suggest you all take a rest, it's gonna be a long night," Cain said, nodding his gratitude at Raw's influence. He'd never known DG to outright disagree with the Viewer, whose calm advice was rare, but welcome, and this time was no exception. Instead, she resigned, her shoulders dropping and the anxiety going out of her, but he wasn't quite out of danger, himself.
"What about you? You don't need to sleep, Cain?"
"I'll catch a few when I get back."
"Back?" Her blue eyes narrowed at him. "Where are you going?"
"To scout ahead. I'd like to get a good look at where we're headed, before we start walkin' into it."
Glitch, ever the advocate of internal peace, spoke up. "DG, I don't think a member of the cartographer's guild has made it out this far since -" He stopped short, and shrugged. "It's up to you, doll, but my stomach says it wants a hot supper."
DG frowned. "Fine, but -"
Instantly, Glitch's face lit up, and off he went. "I'll get the lines!"
"Get these horses unsaddled," he said, giving DG a stern look. "They can take care of themselves until tonight."
"I want to go with you."
Cain smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest, the picture of firm defiance; he couldn't help but give her an appraising once-over glance. "Figured you just come right out and ask this time?"
"I don't need to ask," she said, sharper than he thought even she'd expected of herself, and he raised an eyebrow at her. A bit of bluster went out of her, and she blushed. "I kind of, maybe thought it couldn't hurt."
He cleared his throat, looking around quick before lowering his voice. "You're right on both counts, darlin', but you're staying here. Please."
"Why."
"Because I was serious, and I asked nice. You need the rest. We all do. Like it or not, this journey's almost done."
She paled, that flaring blush draining out of her cheeks. "There and back again. Half done."
Of its own, his hand raised to touch her face, but he caught himself, hesitated. There were eyes on him then, not only her blues but the deep, knowing stares of the others, and he sighed. His hand clenched into a fist and dropped uselessly to his side.
"I'll be back before first sundown."
The road through the woods was a twisted one, winding back on itself again and again as it worked its way through the rocky outcroppings that dominated the hillside. For the most part, the slope was gentle and the decline gradual, but the farther he went, the more the road narrowed, the more the trees pressed in. But the road itself stayed clear, and soon the woods were brightening with the lazy setting of the twin suns; the world became a blaze of pink and gold around him, and it helped to ease his heart.
It was almost two hours later that he came to the vantage he'd been looking for. The road came down suddenly onto a small plateau where the trees were thinner, and through them, while the suns still provided him with their brilliant light, he could see a great distance spread out far below.
It was good to be on his feet, and he left his horse to wander as he stretched his legs and walked towards the steep edge of the plateau. A rocky slope separated him from the trees, straight-trunked and towering, below; the highest of their branches reached level with his knees, giving him an unobstructed view of the land beyond these foothills.
He could not make out the road through the densely crowded treetops; it was lost beneath the canopy of leaves and needled boughs. He could, however, make out the thin white line snaking out of the woods down below - the end of the road. The distance couldn't be more than fifteen miles, though there was no knowing the state of it in the between - the dips and bends that could take them any amount out of the way from the plateau, down through the thickly forested hills, until it reached the grey plain below.
Now, wasn't that sight something else.
Cain had never laid his eyes on such unbroken endlessness. The trees that covered the hills came to an abrupt end as the land levelled into a flat expanse of dry, empty prairie. The glare of the suns was relentless, everything below him parched and brittle, leached of life, nothing reflecting bright in the failing light. There was nothing to distract the eye from the slow climb to the horizon, a distant in-between where the grey of the plain faded into the hazy purple of twilight.
No beacons to follow; no road. No southern star to guide them.
He started at the rustling in the underbrush behind him, turning quickly, hand on his holster even though it was the moment he'd come out here to force in the first place. Even his mount raised her head from nosing through the growth at the side of the road to glance around; her dark eyes noting no concern, she went back to her burrowing. Cain relaxed, however minutely, and whistled.
He didn't have to wait long. The mutt came sprinting through the bushes with a speed and grace he'd never have attained on two legs. He skid to a stop less than five feet away, and stared up at Cain through intelligent dark eyes. Waiting, Cain expected.
He sighed. "Well, come on, boy, speak." A moment later, he was averting his eyes as the mutt's body contorted and stretched into that of a man, a weary one without a smile.
"Hello, Mr. Cain," he said dryly. "What a long way to go for privacy."
"Gone farther."
Tutor shook his head slowly. "What is it you want?"
Cain grimaced, turning his head away so the old man wouldn't see. "I want your word that you'll stop pushing her after this. Last resort, that's what you said back in Finaqua. I want your word you haven't been holding anything back on her. On us."
"I didn't know the word of a man like me was worth all this trouble to a man like you."
Cain glanced back over his shoulder. Tutor walked closer to him with his head down, hands ever in the pockets of his loose trousers. "Don't really matter. It's always worth the trouble if it gets me what I need."
"My word."
Cain nodded.
"I'd like to say I have some grand 'plan B' up my sleeve, sir, but I don't," Tutor said, staring out at the horizon. "Without Astor, our options were spent before we even had a chance. Without DG, we wouldn't even have this. So yes, you have my word, there is nothing more after this."
"That'll be seen tomorrow," Cain replied, relaxing a little. "Much as I hate to admit it, DG needs to see this through, even if there's nothin' to greet her but a dead end."
"You've finally accepted that, then?" A sharp, sidelong glance caught Tutor watching him with a rueful smile.
"A week ago, I wasn't convinced we'd make it this far," Cain said.
"And you made no point of hiding it."
Cain smirked. "I figured news of her mother would catch up with us, and we'd be heading back for a funeral. Not a mention of it anywhere, though, close to the grave as she was when we left."
"Closer still when I left," Tutor said. "Dreaming, never meant to wake. She must still just... dream on."
"DG says she sees her getting better," Cain said slowly. He wasn't about the jeopardise the girl's trust in him, but he'd known since she'd whispered her worries to him by the fire the night before that he needed answers instead of quiet fears, and she wasn't the one he'd get them from.
"Does she?" Tutor frowned. "That explains the drawings."
"You think Lavender could be on the mend?"
Tutor was silent for a good long while before answering, his words coming as slowly as the setting of the suns. "It shouldn't be possible," he said, but then he shrugged, shaking his head at himself. "I just don't know, Mr. Cain." He turned and walked away then, but Cain didn't move, didn't watch him go. He listened to the heavy steps of the old man that changed all at once to the padding of paws and the scrape and rustle of brush as he disappeared into the undergrowth.
Shouldn't be possible.
Cain sighed, staring out at the far off horizon. He'd seen a whole mess of things in his life that shouldn't have been possible, and he'd heard about far more than he cared even think about. He had no grasp of the magical currents that flowed over the land, that changed and shaped at will, that bent and broke the laws of nature that he'd always held true. He was only a man. DG belonged to another world; Daughter of Light, they called her, called her mother.
It shouldn't have been possible that Lavender would single him out instead of one more loyal, more faithful; she might have chosen one more believing, but she didn't, she'd - well, perhaps his mind had played the whole thing out on its own.
He hadn't thought much on the dream he'd had the day they'd arrived in Finaqua, thinking to stay and destined to leave. Lavender's sudden and fleeting presence, her bleak words and heavy warning. DG can't go back, she'd said, or something like it, and he'd listened, however inadvertently. He'd kept DG away, out of the city walls, far from her family and the place she was beginning to consider home.
He let his head hang. He'd gone far beyond that, and he wondered if either one of them had the sense or the strength to put a stop to it before - well, just before.
Cain shook his head, brought himself back to the hillside and the waning daylight. He was beginning to feel a repetition to his thoughts that he would gladly rid himself of. He'd had enough endless loops to last him.
He needed to be getting back. He, too, had made some promises, after all.
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty
Author: Rissy James
Characters: Cain/DG, Glitch, Raw, Tutor (includes other major and minor characters)
Rating: 14+ (subject to change)
Summary: The fade to black was merely the blink of an eye. Respite for only seconds. After all, the road is long.
Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: The journey through the southern mountains has begun to test the resolve of the companions, growing ever closer to their destination, all of them keeping close to heart the reasons why they continue to walk their road.
Chapter Twenty Four: The End of the Road
The Ruby Mountains of the south were one of four ranges that surrounded the O.Z. on all sides, leaving the landlocked nation virtually cut-off from the rest of the world. Centuries before, in times of greater peace, the remote passes through the mountains had been open and maintained for trade with those neighbouring countries willing to brave the crossing of the sandsea.
Historically, that was before the time of Gales. The first queen, DG's namesake, fairytales or no, had closed all the routes, eliminating foreign dependence almost overnight. Her successors strove for an self-sustained nation, and over the intervening century, until the beginning of the Emerald War, the Outer Zone's only contact with countries beyond the sandsea was her export of moritanium, channelled through the single port city of Qhoyre.
Cain had heard the city had been razed after the Fall of Central City, second only to Finaqua in the Sorceress' path of destruction. In a single, terrible night, she'd effectively eliminated the only link with world beyond her mountainous borders. It was said to have been a massacre.
All of this, Cain had only learned after the war, during the weeks he'd spent in the city before leaving for good - or at least, from the aftermath of breaking away from DG and the rest until the messenger had come a calling.
Their original route through the plains of Colibri was to have taken them close to the harbour in the extreme southeast, and he was glad to have avoided it. However, the farther south they went, the more he began to wonder if the road on which they travelled - nameless, ageless - was just a little too straight, and more than a little too easy.
Just what were they walking into?
Overlooking the rocky valley choked with scraggly brush, the road that ran along the ridge was conspicuously clear. The suns were warm, their light blinding, and the view provided to the east and south seemed to stretch on into forever, putting into harsh perspective how far yet they had to go. The road stayed at a steady, relatively low altitude, the day spent in the shade of the dense forest of fir and balsam poplar.
The smell of the dust hanging in the lazy afternoon, the sharp scent of leaves as the breeze caught them - Cain could honestly say he had the passing hope of walking on until the end of time, never reaching anywhere and never going back. He'd see DG gazing off into the distance - not south, no, but to the east - and he'd wonder just what continued to go on in that head of hers. He didn't like the quiet sighs, the emptiness of expression as her blue eyes took in the world that was supposed to have been hers, before she'd been sent away.
The mountains were beginning to wear on the determination that had carried her this far. It seemed every mile now worked against her, to weaken her resolve.
And he'd encouraged her to go on. The night before, his arm fit snug around her waist, her head nestled against his neck; she'd fallen asleep against him, and it was only when his watch had ended that he'd roused her by running his hand through her hair, and ushered her back to her own cold bedroll.
That night, he'd slept a dreamless sleep, and had woken to find that the guilt he'd become so accustomed to had abated - a bare sliver, but still something beyond what he'd ever thought to expect.
For the moment, it changed nothing. He knew, had always known, that he had no right to let this happen. When it became abundantly clear that DG was more imminent a danger than witches, insurgents, or anything else the Zone might have in mind to throw at him, he knew that he couldn't, wouldn't, allow her to continue to lean on him, to burrow her way closer.
For all that day, that morning after, he fought against the part of himself that had been comforted simply by the nearness they'd experienced. He was human, after all, and loneliness had been his common companion during his self-imposed exile to the east. That was the way he'd wanted it, the way he'd planned it, no matter the steep price; he'd left her alone, even after she'd shown her hand just to convince him to stay, and all to inflict upon himself the solitude that had become the only way he'd known how to live.
She'd told him once that she'd been waiting for him to come back on his own. It seemed her patience knew no bounds.
As the hazy afternoon passed into cold, clear evening, and they stopped to rest their tired beasts and their own weary minds, she came to him again. It was near ritual now to wait for the others to fall asleep, to seek him out as he took the first watch. He was no longer surprised to find her settling down next to him, not after so many nights on the road, but still, he was wary of her presence. Never before had he been so critical of her ease with him, her careful way of seeking closeness, as if ever ready to spring away if things went wrong.
He wanted to anchor her against him, to show her she never need run, but she seemed content to link her arm with his once more, to brush her fingers over the back of his hand, to slowly entwine them with his once she was convinced he wouldn't snatch himself away.
"I miss her," she whispered quietly.
Cain had no reply.
His reticence didn't seem to affect her. "I don't want to draw her any more, it makes me miss her too much."
"Then what do you draw?" he asked, annoyed with his own curiosity. Every night, without fail, she sat down with her sketchbook to the dying light, and only the mutt was privileged with an occasional peek as he curled in the dirt beside her.
"I still draw her. My hand doesn't seem to want to stop. But -" And she stopped, sighed, tightened her grip on his fingers. Giving himself that one little inch, he'd squeezed her back. "- But in my mind, I see her getting better, and that's how it comes out on the paper."
"The heart wants what it wants," was his only offer.
"I wish she hadn't sent us to Finaqua."
"I know, darlin'."
"I should be there, no matter what she said. I'm not dangerous." Said with such conviction, the reflection of the firelight in her eyes gave an ominous effect. "I'm not."
"You don't need to convince me."
"Maybe I'm trying to convince myself," she said.
He frowned. "Now that I don't believe." She tried to pull her hand free, but he held fast. "You know well as anyone the difference between what you can do, and what you will do."
Sighing, she laid her cheek upon his shoulder, her attempt at escape already forgotten. She stared down at their tangled fingers; he watched her carefully. "I also know the difference between what I will - would - do, and what I'd be willing to do."
Her words gave him pause. He waited for her to look up at him, to seek him out with those sky eyes, cast as golden as first sunrise in the firelight, but she only focused intently on her small hand wrapped in his.
"DG -"
"A danger," she said, a mere whisper. "Just as she was, careless with her power when she passed it to a little kid. If I'm willing to go all this way, dragging all of you along with me, to chase after stories..."
"You aren't draggin' us," he said firmly. "Glitch is pushing us, too. Mind you, none of us would even be out here if it weren't for the mutt."
"Don't call him that."
"So long as you stop your griping, it's a deal."
DG looked up at him sharply, her mouth screwed up in an unhappy line. He could see her working fast to come up with a fitting tongue-lashing for him, so he said what he needed to before she worked herself up into a righteous huff.
"You're doing what you think is right. Not a one of us can argue it."
She squirmed a bit, then said, "You tried."
Cain chuckled, unable to help it. "I did - and I lost. Get it through your head, kiddo, I'm no sore loser."
The next day, against everything his logical mind could come up with, Cain near doubled their pace. Now entering the fifth day out of the wayside village of Ammenium, he hoped the end was soon in sight. The map of the Qualdin Basin that Glitch had pocketed in the village was soon to be of little use to them. The broad expanse between the Ruby Mountains and the Bur'zaen Overlook was unmarked. Glitch's best estimation was grassland, perhaps open steppe. Gauging distance, it would take them less than a day to traverse it.
The thought of crossing out in the open didn't sit well with Cain, but even without having ever seen the ends of the O.Z. with his own eyes, he knew there would be no other option for them. Their best chance was to cross come nightfall, to come upon whatever waited for them in the clear light of the morning suns.
So, he pushed, and the others willingly went.
It was still early when their road, snaking along the top of the ridge, rose over the lake Glitch had mentioned the night they'd come to the crossroad. Cain had expected the pristine sights Finaqua had imparted upon him, but he was disappointed with murky, brackish water. The rocky basin it filled was stained a rusty red with the annuals of rising and lowering with the spring run-off. Even now, the swell of water rushing down the hillside opposite their road was white with force; he did not like to imagine what elements could discolour the depths, and had no interest in asking Glitch for his thoughts on the matter.
The suns were coming to the height of their arc when their road changed direction; the ridge continued to curve its way around the lake, the cliffs pockmarked with caves and chasms, but the path which they'd followed narrowed and turned once again into the thickest part of the forest that had encroached upon them these last few days. The trees closed in and the suns all but disappeared. DG said aloud that it almost felt like being swallowed; Cain didn't at all disagree, and it did nothing to improve the sense of foreboding that was rapidly beginning to grow in the back of his mind.
It was cool under the trees, and the stillness of the early afternoon hung with the lush verdancy of summer. Every now and again, it was possible to catch glimpses of blue sky through the boughs that reached far over the road, dappling them with sunslight. Somewhere deep in the trees, he could hear Toto barking.
It hadn't escaped Cain's notice that the old teacher had had little to say since Ammenium. In fact, he'd had nothing to say at all, as he'd not shifted back to a two-legged standing position since the morning they'd left the village. Problem was, there were words needing to be had. While it would be fine to speak them, as there was nothing wrong with the dog's ears, after all, Cain had questions he wanted answered before nightfall came, and he knew he would end up going out of his way to get them.
Hours later, however, opportunity still hadn't presented itself. It wasn't until the hottest part of the afternoon when he decided to force himself to act. The road went its way through a grassy meadow clinging to the banks of a wide, shallow creek. The bridge that spanned the water was in severe disrepair, the rotten planks broken and dangling down into the fast-moving flow.
"We'll stop here," he said.
DG, as expected, spoke up. "Can't we keep going until dark?" she asked. When he dismounted and turned to look at her, she was glancing up at the sky, perhaps attempting to judge the time by the suns. The sceptical line of her mouth proved to him she was having little luck.
"The horses need the rest," was his only response. "A few hours ain't gonna set us back by much."
"A few hours!" In her incredulity, there was more life in her than he'd seen in a handful of days, and he could almost say that it lightened the burden pressing on his chest - almost.
"We could all use a rest, DG," Glitch said, his feet hitting the ground moments later. He gave his mount an affectionate pat, smiling gently all the while. "I'll bet there's some silver-speck perch in that stream. We could try our hand at fishing. There's tackle in my -"
"That's a fine idea," Cain said, and fixed his eyes on the princess. Her frustration was clear as glass on her face, but to her credit, she managed to keep her tongue. When their eyes met, her face turned to pleading, but he only shook his head at her. "We got another thirty miles or less before we're out of the woods."
"Cross in the dark," Raw said. "Safer, no rushing."
"So I suggest you all take a rest, it's gonna be a long night," Cain said, nodding his gratitude at Raw's influence. He'd never known DG to outright disagree with the Viewer, whose calm advice was rare, but welcome, and this time was no exception. Instead, she resigned, her shoulders dropping and the anxiety going out of her, but he wasn't quite out of danger, himself.
"What about you? You don't need to sleep, Cain?"
"I'll catch a few when I get back."
"Back?" Her blue eyes narrowed at him. "Where are you going?"
"To scout ahead. I'd like to get a good look at where we're headed, before we start walkin' into it."
Glitch, ever the advocate of internal peace, spoke up. "DG, I don't think a member of the cartographer's guild has made it out this far since -" He stopped short, and shrugged. "It's up to you, doll, but my stomach says it wants a hot supper."
DG frowned. "Fine, but -"
Instantly, Glitch's face lit up, and off he went. "I'll get the lines!"
"Get these horses unsaddled," he said, giving DG a stern look. "They can take care of themselves until tonight."
"I want to go with you."
Cain smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest, the picture of firm defiance; he couldn't help but give her an appraising once-over glance. "Figured you just come right out and ask this time?"
"I don't need to ask," she said, sharper than he thought even she'd expected of herself, and he raised an eyebrow at her. A bit of bluster went out of her, and she blushed. "I kind of, maybe thought it couldn't hurt."
He cleared his throat, looking around quick before lowering his voice. "You're right on both counts, darlin', but you're staying here. Please."
"Why."
"Because I was serious, and I asked nice. You need the rest. We all do. Like it or not, this journey's almost done."
She paled, that flaring blush draining out of her cheeks. "There and back again. Half done."
Of its own, his hand raised to touch her face, but he caught himself, hesitated. There were eyes on him then, not only her blues but the deep, knowing stares of the others, and he sighed. His hand clenched into a fist and dropped uselessly to his side.
"I'll be back before first sundown."
The road through the woods was a twisted one, winding back on itself again and again as it worked its way through the rocky outcroppings that dominated the hillside. For the most part, the slope was gentle and the decline gradual, but the farther he went, the more the road narrowed, the more the trees pressed in. But the road itself stayed clear, and soon the woods were brightening with the lazy setting of the twin suns; the world became a blaze of pink and gold around him, and it helped to ease his heart.
It was almost two hours later that he came to the vantage he'd been looking for. The road came down suddenly onto a small plateau where the trees were thinner, and through them, while the suns still provided him with their brilliant light, he could see a great distance spread out far below.
It was good to be on his feet, and he left his horse to wander as he stretched his legs and walked towards the steep edge of the plateau. A rocky slope separated him from the trees, straight-trunked and towering, below; the highest of their branches reached level with his knees, giving him an unobstructed view of the land beyond these foothills.
He could not make out the road through the densely crowded treetops; it was lost beneath the canopy of leaves and needled boughs. He could, however, make out the thin white line snaking out of the woods down below - the end of the road. The distance couldn't be more than fifteen miles, though there was no knowing the state of it in the between - the dips and bends that could take them any amount out of the way from the plateau, down through the thickly forested hills, until it reached the grey plain below.
Now, wasn't that sight something else.
Cain had never laid his eyes on such unbroken endlessness. The trees that covered the hills came to an abrupt end as the land levelled into a flat expanse of dry, empty prairie. The glare of the suns was relentless, everything below him parched and brittle, leached of life, nothing reflecting bright in the failing light. There was nothing to distract the eye from the slow climb to the horizon, a distant in-between where the grey of the plain faded into the hazy purple of twilight.
No beacons to follow; no road. No southern star to guide them.
He started at the rustling in the underbrush behind him, turning quickly, hand on his holster even though it was the moment he'd come out here to force in the first place. Even his mount raised her head from nosing through the growth at the side of the road to glance around; her dark eyes noting no concern, she went back to her burrowing. Cain relaxed, however minutely, and whistled.
He didn't have to wait long. The mutt came sprinting through the bushes with a speed and grace he'd never have attained on two legs. He skid to a stop less than five feet away, and stared up at Cain through intelligent dark eyes. Waiting, Cain expected.
He sighed. "Well, come on, boy, speak." A moment later, he was averting his eyes as the mutt's body contorted and stretched into that of a man, a weary one without a smile.
"Hello, Mr. Cain," he said dryly. "What a long way to go for privacy."
"Gone farther."
Tutor shook his head slowly. "What is it you want?"
Cain grimaced, turning his head away so the old man wouldn't see. "I want your word that you'll stop pushing her after this. Last resort, that's what you said back in Finaqua. I want your word you haven't been holding anything back on her. On us."
"I didn't know the word of a man like me was worth all this trouble to a man like you."
Cain glanced back over his shoulder. Tutor walked closer to him with his head down, hands ever in the pockets of his loose trousers. "Don't really matter. It's always worth the trouble if it gets me what I need."
"My word."
Cain nodded.
"I'd like to say I have some grand 'plan B' up my sleeve, sir, but I don't," Tutor said, staring out at the horizon. "Without Astor, our options were spent before we even had a chance. Without DG, we wouldn't even have this. So yes, you have my word, there is nothing more after this."
"That'll be seen tomorrow," Cain replied, relaxing a little. "Much as I hate to admit it, DG needs to see this through, even if there's nothin' to greet her but a dead end."
"You've finally accepted that, then?" A sharp, sidelong glance caught Tutor watching him with a rueful smile.
"A week ago, I wasn't convinced we'd make it this far," Cain said.
"And you made no point of hiding it."
Cain smirked. "I figured news of her mother would catch up with us, and we'd be heading back for a funeral. Not a mention of it anywhere, though, close to the grave as she was when we left."
"Closer still when I left," Tutor said. "Dreaming, never meant to wake. She must still just... dream on."
"DG says she sees her getting better," Cain said slowly. He wasn't about the jeopardise the girl's trust in him, but he'd known since she'd whispered her worries to him by the fire the night before that he needed answers instead of quiet fears, and she wasn't the one he'd get them from.
"Does she?" Tutor frowned. "That explains the drawings."
"You think Lavender could be on the mend?"
Tutor was silent for a good long while before answering, his words coming as slowly as the setting of the suns. "It shouldn't be possible," he said, but then he shrugged, shaking his head at himself. "I just don't know, Mr. Cain." He turned and walked away then, but Cain didn't move, didn't watch him go. He listened to the heavy steps of the old man that changed all at once to the padding of paws and the scrape and rustle of brush as he disappeared into the undergrowth.
Shouldn't be possible.
Cain sighed, staring out at the far off horizon. He'd seen a whole mess of things in his life that shouldn't have been possible, and he'd heard about far more than he cared even think about. He had no grasp of the magical currents that flowed over the land, that changed and shaped at will, that bent and broke the laws of nature that he'd always held true. He was only a man. DG belonged to another world; Daughter of Light, they called her, called her mother.
It shouldn't have been possible that Lavender would single him out instead of one more loyal, more faithful; she might have chosen one more believing, but she didn't, she'd - well, perhaps his mind had played the whole thing out on its own.
He hadn't thought much on the dream he'd had the day they'd arrived in Finaqua, thinking to stay and destined to leave. Lavender's sudden and fleeting presence, her bleak words and heavy warning. DG can't go back, she'd said, or something like it, and he'd listened, however inadvertently. He'd kept DG away, out of the city walls, far from her family and the place she was beginning to consider home.
He let his head hang. He'd gone far beyond that, and he wondered if either one of them had the sense or the strength to put a stop to it before - well, just before.
Cain shook his head, brought himself back to the hillside and the waning daylight. He was beginning to feel a repetition to his thoughts that he would gladly rid himself of. He'd had enough endless loops to last him.
He needed to be getting back. He, too, had made some promises, after all.
Table Of Contents
One - Two - Three - Four - Five
Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten
Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen
Sixteen - Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty
Twenty One - Twenty Two - Twenty Three - Twenty Four - Twenty Five
Twenty Six - Twenty Seven - Twenty Eight - Twenty Nine - Thirty
Thirty One - Thirty Two - Thirty Three - Thirty Four - Thirty Five
Thirty Six - Thirty Seven - Thirty Eight - Thirty Nine - Forty