Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and subscribers.

Of Light

Chapter Ten

- Finaqua -

Andrus disliked Jeb Cain with a passion.

The older general stared down the young man before him, an expression of exasperation on his face. "How did you get here before us?" he asked.

The young man shrugged. "I heard at the barracks about the Queen's escort going missing, so I thought my help might be needed."

"Your orders were to stay in Central City."

Jeb shrugged.

Andrus repeated himself. "But how did you get here before us?"

Again, Jeb shrugged. "I'm a fast driver."

Andrus turned away from the young soldier. The little bastard was too smug, too proud. He'd willingly stepped down to a less taxing position when the Resistance fighters had become her Majesty's official force. But he still carried the attitude of a man who took orders from no one.

Jeb was staring at Andrus' back. The old general had his hands clasped, as if he were thinking. If he'd have bounced once or twice on the balls of his feet, he might have been the headcase advisor. To the general's back, Jeb smiled. Andrus was uptight, and he found it funny. Jeb found a lot of things amusing these days.

Andrus spoke, his back to Jeb still. "I have been informed by the Prince Consort that his youngest daughter will require some watching over. Do you think an impetuous young man such as yourself would be able to handle such a menial task as babysitting a fully grown princess?"

The smile was wiped from Jeb's face. Ouch. "Yes, sir," he said quietly. Andrus wasn't as amused at the situation as he was, and now had let him know it. A refusal would mean being sent straight back to Central City, maybe caught up at the government offices filling out paperwork for days while the rescue was launched. Jeb was not about to leave his father a prisoner. But his plan had backfired; now he was on guard duty.

Outside in the passageway, a friend waited, leaning against the wall. Campbell had been in Jeb's unit during the storm on the Tower, and hand selected by the general for the mission... unlike Jeb Cain. When Jeb emerged, Campbell followed him down the hallway. He was chuckling by the time they reached the grand foyer.

"Maybe you'll get to go to a tea party. Remember, stick to talking about the weather," he taunted. Jeb found it hard not to knock the idiot unconscious right there. Things weren't so funny when it wasn't going your way.

"Cain!" came a shout from behind him. Both men turned to see DG running down the stairs towards them. Jeb managed to force a bit of a smile as he bowed his head respectfully towards her.

"Your Highness," he said, plastered with a fake smile. DG narrowed her gaze at him.

"What's your problem?"

Jeb laughed, relaxing a bit at her forwardness. "I came down here to see what I could do to help. As it turns out, what I get to do to help is be your personal escort for the next couple of days while the general negotiates the search for your mother..."

And my father, he thought a little bitterly. Not many people cared about the ex-Tin Man who was missing when he'd disappeared alongside the reigning monarch and the heiress presumptive.

"Well, try not to sound so pissed off about it," she said, but she was throwing an exhausted smile in his direction. "I'll see you at breakfast. I'm going to bed, gentlemen. Goodnight."

DG turned and walked away, impressed with herself at how well she'd managed her manners while so tired. It didn't hit her until the top of the stairs, after the men had left the building, what exactly Jeb had said. Personal escort. Her mind whirred all the way to her sitting room, but by the time she hit her bed, she didn't care. Let him trail her for a few days, what did it matter, they were all stuck between their inability to do nothing and their ignorance at what needed to be done. Rock, hard place.

She was so tired, so drained that she didn't dream.

When she awoke, the suns might have risen, but the sky was gray and overcast. The clock read a little past nine. She could hear the maids bustling quietly outside in the sitting room. Usually they chattered amongst themselves, but today they were silent. DG rose from her bed and dressed as quickly as possible. She surprised the maids when she burst out of her room. They all greeted her nervously. She ignored them, walked briskly past – she'd almost broken her toe her first night at Finaqua, running through the sitting room.

She was halfway across the palace, on her way to Ambrose's study, before she realized Jeb Cain was shadowing her. A discreet ten paces behind, strolling along comfortably as if he might just be going that way, too. She rolled her eyes, and kept walking.

"Good morning, Jeb," she said, without turning around.

"Good morning, DG," came his reply from behind her. "Did you sleep well?"

She slowed then so he could catch up. "Like a rock. Were you just standing outside my room, waiting for me to get up?"

"On my orders, my lady," was all Jeb had to say. DG continued her march to the study. When she got there, guard in tow, the door was hanging open. Peeking in, she saw no one; when she stepped in properly, she saw Ambrose sitting with his chair leaned back, a cup of coffee in his hand, feet up on the desk.

"Hey DG," he said with a smile. He looked exhausted.

She gestured to the mess of books, maps, and papers on his desk. "Rough night?"

Ambrose shook his head. "It isn't even nearly over. They launched the initial search party left this morning at first sunrise." He rummaged around on the desk for a moment, extracted a large sheet. When he laid it back down on top of the pile, DG saw it was a map. Ambrose pointed to the dot that was Finaqua. His finger followed a winding line that ran northwest. "Now," he said slowly. "Hass says there is an obstruction in the road that might stop the trucks. But if they can find a way around it, they'll be able to take them almost right up until where Cain had the party make camp."

"Where is Hass?"

Ambrose sighed. "Gods only know. The General was quite dismissive of his statements, keeps saying people falling into the ground would take months of planning, that if he, the general, didn't know about the Queen's plan, how could enemies have surmounted such a task. Andrus is an idiot, and an ass."

DG smiled at her friend; for Ambrose to use profanity meant a huge dislike for the general. "He's a little prejudiced against shapeshifters," Ambrose said after a few moments. "Some people in the O.Z. think they tend to be untrustworthy individuals."

DG studied the map intently, waving off his comments about Andrus and his foregone conclusions. "You say a search party already left?"

Ambrose nodded. "A few hours ago."

The sound of footsteps from the hall broke their conversation. General Andrus, three other soldiers with him, walked into the study. Ambrose offered DG a weak smile as he escorted her out of the study, handed her over to young Jeb Cain, and closed the door behind him.

DG stared at the door for a few moments, surprised he'd closed it. Then she sighed, and turned to her companion. "Are you hungry?"

The day passed slowly, silently. It was late afternoon, her mother had been missing over a day. She felt lost in the palace without her mother. She'd spent most days watching as her mother quietly went about her tasks, signed papers, made dictations. But when out of the shadows her father would appear, DG would slowly fade into the background to leave the two alone.

Now, she was lonely. Her father was distracted, Ambrose hurried from one room to another without seeing where he was going. Raw stayed in his small chamber, meditating, trying to feel at all times the connection to the Queen and her daughter, to know if they were being harmed.

In the dark, narrow hallway outside his room, DG sat on the floor. It was the only place she felt anchored to her mother and sister, and to Cain. She stole a glance at his son, now. At the end of the passage, young Jeb Cain leaned against the wall, watching down the hall for anyone coming.

It wasn't the shouts of men that alerted her to trouble, it was Jeb's sudden shift in position, the way he suddenly moved from slouching to standing upright. When she keened her ears, she heard it: the sound of shouts, muffled, coming from far off. She jumped to her feet and took off down the hallway. She thought she might have heard him shout a warning, or perhaps a curse, at her back.

Men in uniform were running in and out of the palace. Everywhere, it seemed, people were shouting. She slapped Jeb on the arm.

"Go find out what's going on," she whispered. He looked around, and then his gaze met hers and he nodded. She watched him disappear. She moved towards the wall, trying to stay out of sight. Looking out the window, she saw a lone soldier walking the path towards the stables. It looked like Corporal Hass.

Jeb came running back towards her. His expression was grave.

"What is it?" she asked. The look on his face scared her.

"They found two of your mother's escort, dead," he said after a moment. DG closed her eyes, felt suddenly ill. She tried to shake it off; she didn't want to cry or be sick in front of Cain's son. Jeb gave her a few minutes, noticing how upset she became, before going on. "The search party returned with the bodies."

"Which?" she could barely bring herself to ask.

"I can't remember the names," he said shortly. "But my father isn't among them."

"No, Cain is alive, wherever he is," she whispered. She looked around. The palace at Finaqua, the lake paradise where she and her family were supposed to reconnect and rebuild the O.Z., was slowly crumbling around her. This was no safe haven, this was no place of rest.

"There's more," Jeb said. "The bodies were found over two miles from where Hass said the attack happened. But the bodies were dumped there, I overheard. They're trying to discredit the scout that got away, trying to lay a false trail."

"And Andrus doesn't believe the corporal in the first place," she said slowly, softly.

Jeb watched the princess closely, as she seemed to study her surroundings. She took off at a run so suddenly that it took him a moment to force his body to go after her. She led him out of the palace, along the lake shore; they followed the perimeter of the maze until they were at the stables.

Corporal Hass was saddling his horse. He looked angry. When he saw DG approaching, he stopped what he was doing, watched her carefully.

"Is there something I can do for you, your Highness?" he asked.

DG nodded. Jeb still watched her closely. "You can take us to where they disappeared." She called to Beaudon, the stable hand who stood listening. "Please saddle my horse and a horse for my escort. We're going for a ride in the woods."

Jeb was amazed at her. "You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble," was all he could manage to say.

DG shook her head. "Az... Cain, my mother... they are out there and no one in that palace seems to be doing a single thing to find them. The search party returned, how long until they send out another one? I'm not standing around waiting for someone to decide they are going to do something. I'm going to do something, and you can come with me if you want, or you can go back up to the palace and tell Ambrose what I'm doing. Its your choice." She was resolute.

Jeb sighed, shaking his head. "My father was right about you."

DG turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"He said you were stubborn enough to rival my mother."

DG tried to smile. Cain. She wished she could send her thoughts on the wind, that her silent plea might reach him wherever he was, give him hope in his darkness. I don't know what we can do to save you, or my sister. But we're going to try. Hold on.

- The Underground Prison -

The heavy door opened, light spilling into the dark cell. Wyatt Cain shielded his eyes, stumbled to his feet. Two guards stood in the doorway. "You are being relocated," was all he was told. Five minutes later, he found himself shackled, and marched down a twist of narrow passages.

He did all he could to study his surroundings. Wherever they were, his best bet was they were underground. Led up a flight of stairs and down another hallway. They met no one as he was moved.

They shoved him roughly into another dark hole; he fell to his knees. Hauled to his feet and unshackled, the light from the passage outside showed him a table with a chair, a kerosene lamp. A bare cot. The floors and the walls were concrete, large pipes running along one end, disappearing into the wall, into the belly of the fortress.

When they closed the door behind him, he could hear the simplicity of the lock that held him. Just a key in the keyhole.

The cell was larger than the one below. Barely, but still. It was a little warmer, as well. He found the cot in the darkness and lay down. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

When Cain awoke, it was to the click of the lock. In shuffled his visitor from downstairs, the ragged old man.

"Why was I moved?" Cain asked. He could see a guard standing outside his door.

The old man was quiet for a moment, considering his answer. He placed the supper tray down on the table. "Your stay has been extended, says the guards."

"So we are to be released?"

"If your ladies cooperate." The old man struck a match, lit the lamp. The light shone a ghastly orange glow on his craggy face. The old man turned to go. "They wait now for the second."

"Second?"

"Don't be a fool, boy!" the old man exclaimed. He shuffled out of the room.

The guard outside the door shoved the man in the back with the butt of his rifle. "Move along!"

Wyatt Cain was left alone as the door was closed and locked. He ran a hand through his short hair, stared at the food on the table without really seeing it. In his head echoed the words he'd told Hass their first night in the woods.

DG is in no danger.

In the corner of the room was a tiny closet, containing a toilet and sink. He ran the water, washed his face, his hands. When he caught sight of his reflection staring back at him in the cracked mirror, empty blue eyes stared back at him. His mind ran wild with the possibilities of why DG would be sought out. But everything he could imagine ended in ways he'd rather not picture. The removal of the royal family, the death of that fiery, mouthy girl he'd grown to care for, against all odds, on their journey together.

He returned to his small table. He wasn't hungry, but he drank the cup of water that came with the meal. He sat in the rickety chair, holding the cup in his hands, rolling it in his fingers.

Waited until morning, when the old man would return.