Only Cowards Stay While Traitors Run
When Last We Met: A plan has been set in motion. The departure is almost upon Cain and his companions as they ready themselves to visit the villages of the Eastern guild, but time is against them as Lavender lingers near death. Cain remains cynical about their chances of success, directly in opposition to DG, but this tension is the least of his worries.
Chapter Fourteen: That Northerly Wind
Something inside DG was renewed, and it vexed Cain to no end over the course of the day, that first day after the decision had been made to toss caution out the window and undertake some impossible feat of daring that would most likely cost all of them more than they'd stopped to consider.
It wasn't until the day wore on however, and their thieves-in-the-night departure drew invariably closer, that he realised he was far from the only one thinking a bit harder on DG and Tutor's endeavour. The easy, simple pace of Finaqua carried on unabated, the warm suns and lapping shores unconcerned with their urgency, ever casting the illusions of peace and forgetfulness.
Far from pacified, Cain shut himself indoors. Sleep was a long gone luxury when his thoughts were racing so fast that there was no hope in hell of sorting through it all; there was nothing to do but make ready for the road, and he was more than relieved to know that the others were of like mind. That, at least, he could bury himself in to sidetrack his idling thoughts.
Glitch and Tutor spent most of the afternoon bent over every map they could get their hands on, outdated sheets that showed a land not yet torn by war, nor choked by a tyrant's grasp. If anything, the landscape remained the same, distance never changed. Their greatest obstacle – aside from DG's better known face – was the unknown state of the villages marked along the routes. Had they been erased, abandoned? How many supporters of the New Resistance were they likely to run into? It was a risk, but not the biggest they'd encountered along their collective way.
Wyatt tailed DG for most of the day, a charge that Raw had also undertaken, so that her shadow was always filled with their quiet presence. While he was concerned with DG, his thoughts became more preoccupied with the Viewer, and the fact that he'd yet to weigh in on what was happening. Not one for words himself, Cain could understand the feelings of futility in arguing with the inevitable.
Still...
Dinner was a light and quiet affair, with no words said lest the shattering of the unspoken bear down upon them. All had been decided, there was little to do but wait for the suns to sink, the sky to darken. The seconds ticked away so slowly as they five sat together around a long, heavily-laden table, the food barely touched, the wine drunk and mulled over and drunk some more.
North by the Brick Route, to the very edge of Lake Country and the surrounding marshes; by dawn, the village of Byvasser, off the Route by half a span. Rest, stock up on necessary provisions; cross the gorge by late afternoon and be on the boundaries of Papay land just after sunsdown.
Time was no ally in this, but Cain knew he wouldn't have to push any of them, least of all DG. The burden of her mother's life would hang heavily over her head, and it would drive her forward. He knew that all too well himself, though it wasn't exactly something he was about to share by the fire – and it was just about the very thing she'd try wheedle out of him, too. Honest truth, in all her selfish distractions, she seemed to have forgotten she was still angry with him.
It was no consolation – oh, how that one little lie could burn.
It was as simple as the girl announcing she wanted to tour the southern lowlands; just that request, those words, and the staff throughout the palace near tripped over themselves trying to please and accommodate her.
It was as easy as saying she'd heard there were about a hundred lakes around here. He'd told her that months ago, her search for the emerald still jerking the ground out from underneath of her at every half-turn. She'd led them all to the right lake, the true lake without an ounce of effort, memories dragging her along under the delusion of honest luck. The memories had brought them here, to Finaqua; there were no memories to lead her now, no trail to follow, just gut instinct and common sense.
Gods protect them.
After dinner, the others had melted away into the darkness and the quiet. Mere hours now from departing, all seemed to be battling demons deep within, trying their damnedest to take victory over their inner struggles, to come out with a clear view on what they wanted, what had to be done, and how far they were willing to go.
Without question, to the end of the route, for her. Without fail, all of them.
He told himself it wasn't just her he was looking out for; reconnected to himself or not, Glitch could slip into his scatter-brained reveries without batting an eye. And there was no denying, though it shamed Wyatt to admit it, that he couldn't quite bring himself to trust the mutt's intention – Cain was sure he'd be stepping in at some point to stop the means that would justify whatever end DG and Tutor sought. Somewhere... somewhere along their road.
"How'd it come to this?" he asked the old man, the two of them standing on a back terrace looking out over the lake. Dusk, clandestine, cloaking the land in shadow, hiding the shifting surface of the water, the green expanses of marshes beyond; only the Ruby Mountains, endless black silhouettes stretching across the horizon, gave any semblance of the familiarity of daylight as the glow at the world's edge faded ever away.
"What do you mean?" Tutor asked, not bothering to mask the disdain.
"This," Cain said, gesturing to himself, and then to Tutor. His hands went back to the anchor of his belt. "The five of us, here, especially you. DG, perfectly set to disappear without raising suspicion. Some long-shot chance, some magic answer."
There was no response, so he dug further.
"The girl was best left in Central City."
"That would be the most obvious conclusion, yes, and a point that's wearing quite thin," Tutor said slowly. He stared out in the direction of the water, the lights illuminating the terrace from the dining hall behind them cut very little of the dark beyond the steps that led down to the grassy field. Damn strange place to put a palace.
"But this is about more than just keeping her safe, now isn't it? More than using the Resistance as a cover."
"Mister Cain," Tutor said, holding up a hand. Wyatt was barely able to control the deep grimace that settled over his face, biting back an impatient growl with difficulty. "I can assure you with no amount of uncertainty that were Lavender to know of what we – what I – have suggested to DG, well... to say she would disagree is an understatement."
"I doubt that." The edge in his voice dropped low, and he squared his eyes on the old man. "How long you been playing this close to the chest?"
Another dramatically drawn out pause followed, where Tutor made it a point to first sigh as if deliberating a greatness, then look away, mull a bit over what he'd say. Cain didn't buy any of it, and he knew the mutt was well aware of this fact, too. Still, there were appearances to consider.
"Eight months wasn't long enough," Tutor conceded, knowing his failing and shaken by it to the very core. "I tried – I tried everything I could to find something to somehow reverse what has happened to the Qu– to Lavender. To think that the best I could come up with is the equivalent of asking DG to send a letter to Santa Claus. I haven't Astor's skill, or his resources, let alone his power."
Cain shifted uncomfortably; the emotion that connected the old teacher to the task at hand, no matter how well concealed, sullied every word that came from his mouth. All of it was tainted by guilt and regret, mirroring something Wyatt tried his damnedest every day to keep buried.
"I just want to know if you'd considered the real risk here," Cain said, pausing to swallow away the weakness that drove up his throat.
"If you're worried about raising DG's hopes, then –"
"I'm not worried about the kid," Cain said sharply. "What happens if you actually find what – no, who – you're lookin' for. What then? You can't tell me you haven't actually had the time to think about who you might actually find."
Tutor glared at him hard, as if he'd been insulted. He shook his head, prolonging the silence – and in that moment, there was a – well, there was no other way to describe it than a scrape, the sound of something hard against stone. Cain cocked an ear in the direction of the sound, catching the flickering light of the terrace lanterns at the very edge of his vision.
The old man spoke. "There's the possibility there will be no answers at the end of this road." Cain was barely listening, but he didn't seem to take notice. "Perhaps we'll turn back before we even reach the end, but I swore to myself to follow it as long as I was able."
"And now the kid's done the same, thanks to your stories," Cain said distractedly. He glanced over his shoulder; a shadow shifted, darkened as it danced on the edge of the circle of light in which the two men stood. "I follow her; don't think for a second that it's you – or Lavender – that I'm there for."
"It never crossed my mind," Tutor said. The abrupt, misplaced scrape again, and then the old man's sombre voice. "We meet the others in an hour; I trust you won't disappear before then."
Cain frowned, the barb unwelcome and cutting straighter and deeper than he liked. "How about you worry about how you're gonna get the easterners to tell you anything."
Tutor gave a smile, a meaningful look that didn't bode well for anybody. "A little faith, Mr. Cain, just a little faith." He turned and walked slowly back into the palace, head high with the confidence of his own belief firmly in place, while Cain was left in the chill of evening's dark places.
He waited. A minute or two passed, with nothing but the gentle lapping of water against the banks of the lake, the breeze playing through the mess of reeds that clogged the shore. Quiet. The illusion of serenity. Water and wind – shadow, too. He could never quite forget the shadows that forever danced just out of sight, waiting and watching as he did.
This one, however, had human eyes. Sky eyes.
"I can still hear your feet," he said, staring out into the ever-descending dark beyond the terrace. Behind him, there was a disappointed sigh.
"Just my feet?"
He nodded, his ear catching the faint hum of her magic as she let go her spell. "You'll learn to get a handle on that fidget of yours."
DG was frowning as she sidled up to him. "Then I'll keep practising."
Her answer surprised him somehow, and there was no explaining it away. She wasn't indignant that he'd criticised her, and that spoke volumes to him, even if she hadn't outright admitted to wanting to do better. It wasn't as if she were courting his approval. It wouldn't do him any good to tie her every word to that undercurrent of unspoken complication that ran between them.
She said no more for the first few minutes, watching out into the dark as he did; the distant haze on the horizon had all but disappeared, night finally overthrowing the last trace of day.
They'd be on the road soon. It was heavy on his mind.
Hers too, apparently. "Do you really think we'll meet that much trouble?"
He sighed. "It's hard to say," he said. He'd promised her to never call it hopeless. Trouble just made it all the more interesting, didn't it? Hadn't Glitch said, grinning all the while, that this could be fun? An out and out lie. The grey pall of Lavender would haunt them, she was the cause of it all. No, not fun. The smile of Glitch's was just emptiness disguised.
"Tell me anyway," she said.
"It's not that easy, darlin'," he said, and glanced down at her. She was watching him closely now, the dark over the lake not nearly as interesting as him, and what he had to say. Too bad he had no platitudes for her. "It's hard to say because I just don't know."
"None of us know," was her response. "We can just –"
"Figure it out as we go," he finished for her.
Her mouth settled into a thin line. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."
"Seems to be the common occurrence tonight," he said. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he held up a hand to stem whatever she was about to say. "Let mine be the head with the common sense, kid. The way I see it, you and the mutt can pull together enough faith for the rest of us."
"You think so?"
Cain put his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened as his thumb rested on her collarbone, fingers brushing her back. "If I've got to have faith in somethin', it might as well be you."
She blushed, and she lowered her eyes as to avoid his. He sighed, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, let her go before – well, just before.
"Are we almost ready to go then?" she asked; her voice was tight, uncomfortable. She still wasn't looking at him.
"We can be on the road before the hour's up, if that's what you want." He knew he had to make it clear to her that she was in charge of this expedition, that they followed her. He never expected her to fall back, exactly, but he never wanted her to doubt the importance of her decisions.
"It is," she said. A smile ghosted across her lips, but it wasn't meant for him. It was gone as quickly as she could be if she willed it, all shadow and scrape. Before another minute had passed, she'd walked away, heading back into the palace through the wide-open double doors.
He stayed. Just for a minute, he told himself. He took a breath, bringing the damp, clear air deep into himself.
This was the calm before the storm. This was the quiet before the chaos.
Best enjoy it while it lasted.
The way the four had come, five now left Finaqua.
DG was smiling when they'd left the stables behind. There was hope in her eyes, hope for her mother. "Come on," she had said to them, "miles to go before we sleep."
Was she that optimistic, or was she just trying to mask her anxieties?
The maze was soon put behind them. The endless stretch of woods and water, so many small lakes that he'd once known the names of. Along the way, some came back to him, rising up out of the mess of his memories, tokens of a life lived and put aside for another.
Keepsake Lake. Bywater. Aquus Basin. Lake Miremere.
How many times had he walked this road?
The others were quiet as they stole through the night, hiding from no one but hiding nonetheless. The Brick Route – this far south barely more than a winding hard-beaten trail cutting through the woods – would carry them northward until one of the countless intersections they constantly came upon became their path to the small village of Byvasser on the southern ridge of the gap.
Sleep in a bed. Eat a hot meal. You'll be sleeping on the ground before long; nights on the road aren't as easy as they used to be. But you remember that from the last time, don't you?
He spent most of the journey trying to muzzle his internal voices. Most nights, a bottle of Qualdin whiskey might have silenced them well enough. Problem was, this wasn't most nights; worse off, it was only the first.
Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in writing this. I read a story a few weeks ago that really turned everything I know upside down, and it was a long time recovering. Also, Christmas with five kids is a kind of hell I would never, ever wish on anyone, ever. Leave me one if you're so inclined, I could really use the pick-me-up. Still two more days before they go back to school...
