When The Petal Fell

19-1

19

They emerged from the grating into the cold evening air, each drawing in deep, fresh breaths. Klaron had the sense to return the grating, staring down, back into the sewer tunnel, watching for anyone following. It seemed clear, for the moment. The power that the killer must control worried Klaron a great deal. To gain control of so many people. Not only showing them illusions, but making those poor people speak his words, to attack them. As far as she had heard, from Pirizd, from Aletandera, it should not be possible, but she had seen it with her own eyes.

Sora sat on her haunches, breathing deep, calming breaths, her hands clutching at her short, blonde hair. Dylin leaned against a wall, rubbing his arms and his aching muscles. The big former Hath Marat had performed far more than they had asked of him, with little complaint. Klaron appreciated and respected that.

"Where have we come out?" Sora sniffed at her clothing and even she grimaced at the smell. "It seems familiar."

"The Temple District." Klaron looked around, regaining her bearings. "Dylin, where is the Lady Cierene now?"

"She was around here for a long while, further over there and below." Dylin pointed a hand towards the bridge edge, then he moved his hand, opening it palm outwards, eyes closed. When he opened them, he pointed in another direction. "Now, she's moved. Over that way."

Klaron turned in the direction of Dylin's pointed finger. Rising above the temples and the other, residential and commercial, buildings in between, she saw the spire of the bell tower of the Palace of Words. Two possibilities occurred to Klaron. That Cierene had escaped, or finished her wanderings if she hadn't found herself captured after all, or that, after seeing the control over people that the killer had shown, she remained under his spell. But for what reason?

"If Cierene had left the Tweens of her own accord, she would have returned to the Court of Blossoms. She'd never wonder around the Top-Side without looking her very best." Sora voiced the thoughts Klaron had. "I don't think this is right. Something's wrong."

"I agree. I do not believe the Lady Cierene is in control of her actions. We should catch her as fast as possible." Klaron stood, her muscles aching, exhaustion filling her, especially after the lack of sleep the night before. She patted Dylin on the shoulder. "Please, lead the way, master hunter."

Dylin, reluctant, tired and nursing several cuts and bruises upon his large frame, pushed himself from the wall and began to walk towards the centre of the bridge and the Palace of Words. He had moved no further than twenty feet when a shadow detached itself from one of the nearby alleys. A noble woman, aged, dressed for a night out, launched herself towards Dylin, thrusting her hand towards the man's gut, a flash of a drawn blade in the hand.

Dylin looked surprised, gazing into the noble woman's eyes as he clutched at his stomach, catching blood in his palms.

"Sora?" The big man looked at the debt collector, confused, in pain, and collapsed to his knees.

Sora reacted first, launching a punch at the elderly woman, knocking her back into the shadows, the knife dropping to the cobbles with a musical, tinkling sound. Together, Klaron and Sora, took a side of their large guide, wrapping his arms over their shoulders, lifting him with difficulty and struggling forward.

"Hold on, Dylin! I know it's painful, big man, but a wound like that'll take a long time to kill you." Sora seemed to have a genuine affection for the gruff, violent man. "Try and walk. Help us to help you."

The weight of the man lifted from Klaron's shoulders, but his arm remained, steadying the man as he struggled to walk. He stumbled, but held his feet. Placing one foot in front of the other, even as his life blood leaked from the wound in his abdomen. Klaron calculated that they still had many minutes before they would reach the Palace of Words, where a healer in residence could help the man. And that was if they didn't have to deal with more controlled people.