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

Of Light

Chapter Twenty-One

- The Underground Complex -

It was shouting that stirred him to consciousness. There was pressure on his body, slowly lifting; he was being jostled. With a groan and a heave, the Commander pushed a table off of himself, and staggered to his feet. Lt. Shore was staring at him, and retracted his proffered hand.

"What happened, sir?" Shore asked. He looked agitated.

It was slowly coming back to him. The trickery of the little witches... a wave of energy, and then a second. Then flying furniture. The table connecting with his head had knocked him unconscious, and by the look of the littered room, she'd thrown more than just the table at him. The Sorceress, Azkadellia.

He'd choke the life out of her when he got his hands on her.

"Never mind what happened. Where are they?"

Lt. Shore hesitated, and the Commander felt his anger grow. "Where are they?" the Commander demanded again through gritted teeth.

Shore heaved a sigh, looked down at the floor as he spoke. "We have just begun a search for them, Commander. We were only just alerted to the situation when the princess's maid came to bring her supper, and found you and the others on the floor. She called for the guards immediately."

The Commander looked around, his anger boiling away now into a full blown rage. Little girls, he thought, and spat on the floor. His underling was watching him expectantly.

"Search this floor," the Commander ordered. "And the floors below."

"Yes, sir," Shore said, and ran off without saluting. The Commander rolled his eyes. Jittery and unreliable, Shore was due for a demotion, and if this mess wasn't cleaned up, it would probably be a permanent one. He put a hand on the back of his head, already feeling a pounding headache. He looked at the demolished room. The table where the Emerald had fallen now bore a black burn mark.

The Emerald.

He didn't bother to look for it, knowing full well they would have taken it with them. There was no chance for escape, and he wondered absently what he would do when he got them back in his grasp. Two little princesses, he thought with a grimace.

This had been so well planned. He would rise to glory above that of his forefathers, would redeem the banishment of his people, would return the Emerald to rightful soil. As it had fallen into place for Dorothy Gale a century before, now it would fall into place for him. A powerless Queen, a disgraced monarchy. An unprotected treasure.

Annual upon annual, he'd sat and waited, watching as one piece connected with the other. An eclipse foreseen by astronomers since before Pastor's day approached, an age-old prophecy whispered behind hands and closed doors. A Queen with two daughters... then only one, and one alone.

The entire nation mourns, his scout had said. The funeral procession of the tiny princess stretched farther than the eye could see, marching slowly through the streets of their Shining City.

The Shining City, where Dorothy Gale had reached sanctuary, had gone beyond his grandfather's grasp. Under the protection of a king, who petted the dear child who'd brought him the very thing he'd almost paid a king's ransom for. The Emerald.

The news over the mountains grew ever grayer. Every time his scout would return, it would be with grave tidings. The Princess Azkadellia has overthrown her mother's rule and taken to the throne.

He'd nodded, behind his desk. When the scout had left, he'd risked a grin. It would only be a matter of time. And true enough, it had been... for nine annuals after dethroning her mother, Azkadellia had searched endlessly for the stone, without rest. In comfort, and with assurance, he'd watched the skies and waited.

Permanent darkness hadn't mattered to him. His people were of the below ground variety, venturing rarely into the light from the double suns, seeking sparingly the wind in the trees, the pinprick glow of stars. The Emerald was unsheathed from its hiding place, and he'd seen his time to strike.

Now, in his arrogance, he could see he'd underestimated the little princesses, just as his grandfather had underestimated Dorothy Gale.

He walked at a brisk pace to the second-level access staircase. He reached into his pocket, and found nothing. Searched every other pocket and found... nothing. Realization dawned instantly. "Damn them!" he roared. Angrily, he punched a series of numbers into the keypad, and the lock released.

Halfway to his office, he heard someone calling him. A human boy, probably second or third generation slave. "Sir," the boy called, and threw his soft body down at the Commander's feet.

Grunting, he nudged the boy with his boot. "What is it?"

The boy was cowering, shaking. He did not rise, nor look at the outlander. "Sir, the lieutenant ordered me to find you. He requests you down in the slave quarters, where you kept the prisoners."

Kept. Past tense. With a growl, the Commander stalked past the boy, crushing outstretched fingers underneath the weight of his boot.

The boy slowly rose to his feet, crying silently over his mashed fingers. Glaring hatefully at the departing outlander, who never looked back, he thought he might go down to the kitchen to see his mother, show her his injury. He'd turned on his heel, determined, when around the corner came running four people, two guards, a beautiful woman with silver hair, a younger woman with a mass of dark waves.

"Ohhh," the boy whispered, and fell into a bow. He knew who these women were, his mother had bemoaned over the treatment of the rulers of the Zone. He loved the stories his mother told of her childhood in this faraway land, stories that gave him wonderful things to dream about, instead of work, and pain, and more work.

The young woman smiled at him, and held a finger to her lips. "Shhh." It was a long, drawn out hush, and he nodded at her, wide-eyed. The guard in front of her waved the two women forward, his blue eyes lingering on the princess as she moved around a corner and out of sight. He stayed until last, nodded at the boy, shushed him the way the princess had. The boy only nodded, barely able to contain his excitement.

When the strangers had disappeared, the boy turned tail and ran to find his mother.

- The Underground Complex -

Azkadellia nearly cried out with relief at the sight of her sister and mother. Too stiff and scared to give much greeting, they stood silently together, leaning on each other, listening as their next step was discussed by their escorts.

"The card opens this door," Jeb told his father. He held the plastic key in his hand, tapping it against the opposite palm. "But there's no guarantee that it\s going to get us out the front door, or any other surface exit."

Wyatt Cain sighed deeply, hands on his hips. His head was down and he was deep in thought. Whatever move they made, valuable seconds were being wasted standing there. They'd come close to the Commander already; the burly outlander had nearly crossed their path on their way to the meeting point, and he was eager for it not to happen again. Even the rifles two of his men carried might not be much use against an outlander's tough hide; he had no idea, having never come up against one before. Rogue outlanders sometimes popped up in rural areas of the Zone, generally to cause trouble, but his detail had always kept him in Central City, and no outlander was fool enough to enter there.

"There has to be some sort of loading dock," he thought out loud after a moment. "A supply hatch, maybe. Some out of the way exit to this place."

All the men double checked their weapons, and together the group left the tiny storage room and crept furtively down the hallway towards the stairs. Jeb used the access card, the door unlocked, and they ascended the stairs to the first level.

DG followed close behind Cain, trying to calm her pounding heart. The close call with the Commander and the slave boy had her nerves rattled. Moving from one shadowed corner to the next, trying to keep footsteps quiet, the entire group moving as one onward, without knowing where they were going. They numbered too many, would draw too much attention. Why didn't they run into anyone?

They must be searching the lower floors for us, was the only answer she could give herself.

They came across a large intersection, a meeting of five corridors. Cain swore, and backtracked the group to a small alcove where a few maintenance boxes hung on the wall. Pvt. Burrows smashed out the light, throwing them all into shadow and darkness. The sudden loss of the light made DG's throat close up, and she found the wall again, leaning on it for support.

Jeb and Burrows went forward to scout the hallways, moving quickly and with soldier's stealth. Cain watched the hallway after the two younger men had gone, holding out an arm to stop anyone from moving forward... As if any of us would sneeze without you giving us permission, Cain, DG thought with a roll of her eyes. Everything teetered on edge, and even a simple jest in her head felt like too much.

"Az," DG choked out.

Her sister came to her side, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We're almost out of here, DG," she said.

"If we can find the way out," DG whispered, trying not to let her mother hear... or Cain. She was only brave because they expected it of her, she would gladly curl up on the floor and have a good cry if there was time for it, just for the release. The weight of the Emerald in her pocket, however slight, felt like too much, and she didn't know how to bear it with grace or dignity. She could only face this with stark acceptance, and take everything as it came... it was a familiar, comfortable feeling, but it didn't make her feel any better.

"DG, darling, do not think pessimistically," her mother admonished, but the Queen wore a gentle smile.

Footsteps were running towards them, but Cain's stature didn't change, and DG knew it was only one of the others returning; Jeb, she knew, once he started speaking.

"I found the main exit," he told the others. "It's heavily guarded. Even if we managed to overpower them, there is no telling if the key we have will open the door or if any one of them holds the right key."

DG groaned. More bad news. She found herself thinking back to Glitch, on their previous adventure; her friend who had always known something about what to do next, whether it irrelevant or frivolous, at least it was always something. With his brain back in his head, he would have been an amazing ally to have at the moment. Oh, she wanted to go home to Finaqua. She ached for her friends, her father... the suns, and the sound of the lake.

"We'll wait until Burrows returns, and we'll see what he was able to find," Cain said, directing his words and gaze to the Queen, but his eyes strayed to DG, who offered him a tiny, stretched smile. "If he doesn't find another exit, then..." he trailed off, unable to put into words what they would need to do. Storm the front gate, and see if any of us lives long enough to check the guards for keys, DG thought bitterly.

Her mother was beside her, a gentle touch on her wrist. "DG, you've been having dreams," she said matter-of-factly.

DG nodded slowly. More footsteps, running. Again, Cain didn't jump, didn't raise his gun. Burrows returning.

"Of the Gale? Of her capture, and escape?"

DG nodded again. "How do you know this, Mother?"

Her mother waved her off. "DG, darling. If you've dreamed of the capture of Dorothy Gale, of those past events, events that took place here! Think, darling. Did you dream her escape?"

DG's eyes widened. Could it be possible? She tried to wrack her mind, to bring forth hazy memories that weren't even her own. Gray hallways materialized in her mind, coming sharper into focus and then fading into black, then another hallway, vaporous at first, and then swimming into contrasting clarity. DG closed her eyes, tried to concentrate on the scenes that had played out in her sleep.

It was a strange feeling, like one of deja vu; a sense of semblance amidst the normal chaos of her mind. Swinging her head back and forth slowly, as if trying to coax the answer out, she tried not to grasp too hard, tried not to let it slip away. When she opened her eyes, her mother and sister were watching her expectantly. A quick look at the men showed her they were ignoring her, fighting in heated whispers about their next move.

She did what felt natural, what felt right; she bolted. Into the hallway, turning down the way that would lead to the five-way split. She heard both her sister and Cain call out her name, but she didn't stop; if she did, she might lose it, the faint, sepia map in her head. They were all running after her, trying to catch her, to stop her maybe?

When she reached the intersection, she cut straight across, then turned left at the next juncture. Cain called her name in a hoarse whisper again, barely heard over the sound of pounding feet. As Dorothy had shown her, she slipped right, down a few stairs, to a narrower corridor. Cain jumped the stairs, and caught her by the arm.

"DG, stop," he said, and held her firmly in place when she tried to pull away. "Where are you going?"

She glared at him impatiently. But when she opened her mouth to tell him that his disbelief was going to get them all caught or killed, a loud alarm cut through the air, blaring out like something out of an old war movie. Somewhere back the way they had came, above the stairs and around a corner, a red light flashed, casting its glow over the steps. Both DG and Cain stared at it, and when their gazes returned to each other, she couldn't believe how calm he looked in light of their new situation.

"Captain, let her be," the Queen spoke up, and even her demure manner could not cover the agitation in her voice.

"You trusted my instinct to follow Toto, just... okay, you said my dreams can't always mean something. I say you're wrong," she said, her eyes pleading with him. "I say I know the way." She pointed back the direction they had come, toward the flashing red lights. "Charge at the main exit, be my guest. I'm going this way." Reaching up, she gently pried his fingers from her arm, pushing his hand away, though wishing she could entwine their fingers and pull his body close to hers. Instead, she turned on him and left him, knowing that he wouldn't let himself get too far behind.

She walked at a brisk pace now, too unsure to run, scared to make a mistake. It became harder to remember, difficult to pluck the rights and lefts out of the panicked frenzy of her dreams. Concentrate, DG, she told herself. Just a little further. How big can this place possibly be?

Suddenly, their passage ended in a set of massive double doors. Bold letters were painted across the metal, spanning both doors: LOADING DOCK 3.

There was no keypad, no electronic lock. Only a ward lock under the handle, which look liked it required a very large key.

"Az!" DG exclaimed, reaching blindly behind her for her sister. After a moment, she felt her sister's warm grasp. DG held her free hand up to the door, hoping to unlock it, or even blast it right backwards, though the commotion from that would draw more attention... but nothing happened. The door stayed solidly in place, the lock made no sound.

Through the glass in the door, she could see another red light flashing. The sisters tried together, both holding hands aloft, white light glowing from beneath their skin, radiating in an aura above their palms; the windows shattered, and large dents appeared in the fortified metal, the sound of it reverberating off the walls. With a loud pop, the lock broke; DG reached forward and tried the door, and it pulled open freely, the handle rendered useless. She heaved the door open, and held it. Az and her mother passed through, and Jeb Cain stepped forward to take the door from her, to allow her to follow.

The room they entered was cavernous. They were on a scaffolding, overlooking the massive dock; huge slabs of cement laid in the floor, and at the far end of the room, the floor was dirt. Squinting her eyes, she saw the walls on the far end were rock, not manmade, glistening with water. A dark, narrow crevice cut vertically into the rock face, wide enough for one person but not for two, deep and foreboding.

"That's the way out," DG said, pointing. "It leads to the surface."

The noise they made running down the steep, metal staircase to the lower level was deafening, the clattering bouncing off the high walls. The pounding of their feet on the cement followed, then the scrape of their shoes on the dirt as they reached the end of the room. The walls had tapered off, the ceiling twenty feet lower than the loading dock; their trek across had been slowly uphill and they were breathless when they reached the rocks.

"We don't have any light," Cain muttered, "and I don't like the idea of walking blind into that dark hole." His gun was out of its holster, aimed into the darkness, waiting for something to come pouncing out. Nothing did, but he didn't lower his firearm.

DG grinned. Closing her eyes, a look of contentment crossing over her face, a small buoyant light lifted slowly out of her palm, resting unknown beneath her skin. Cain cocked an eyebrow, shifting his weight slightly as he watched it loll lazily around her head. Beside him, Azkadellia did the same, though her light was a little bigger, a little brighter.

"Good?" DG asked him.

Cain cast a sideways glance at the Queen, who was watching her daughters with a pleased expression on her face. Leading fearlessly, her little light guiding the way for the others, she entered the cavern, leaving the alarm and the complex behind.