Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 13

Through the heavy sheets of rain, your peripheral vision catches a sudden, aggressive shift in the crowd. A man is sprinting directly toward Kaelen’s blind spot, his hood thrown back, a wicked, jagged short-sword drawn and raised. You recognize him instantly—the greasy hair, the sneering mouth. He was one of the bandits from Kaelen's old crew, one of the men you had watched from the high rafters when you broke into their vault.

With lightning speed, your instincts take over.

You rip your hand from Kaelen’s cheek. In a fluid blur of motion, your fingers reach over your shoulder, snagging a black-fletched arrow from your new quiver. You notch it, raise the marbled black-and-ivory bow, and draw the string back to your ear in one seamless, terrifyingly fast motion.

Twang!

The bow sings, silent as a graveyard. The arrow streaks through the downpour, slicing clean through the raindrops.

Thwack!

A split second later, a sickening crunch echoes through the alleyway. The arrow buries itself deep into the bandit's thigh, pinning his leg back and shattering his stride. The man lets out a blood-curdling shiver of agony, his sword flying from his grip as he crashes violently into the wet cobblestones, skidding through the mud and clutching his bleeding leg.

The crowded alleyway instantly erupts into chaos. People scream, scattering in every direction to get out of the crossfire, vendors ducking beneath their counters.

Kaelen spins around at the sound of the screech, his daggers already clearing his boots and flashing in his hands, completely combat-ready. He looks at the screaming bandit writhing on the ground, then looks at you. You are still standing in a flawless archer's stance, your grey eyes fierce, the marbled bow steady in your grip as the steam rises from the wet wood.

Kaelen's eyes go wide as he recognizes his former crewmate.

"Lance," Kaelen spits, his voice dropping into a lethal growl. He looks back at you, a mixture of utter shock and terrifying respect blazing in his eyes. "By the gods, Red... that was a sixty-pace shot in a torrential downpour."

"He's not alone!" a rough voice shouts from the rooftops above.

You look up through the lashing rain and spot two more cloaked figures leaning over the stone aqueduct arches, cross-bows levelling right at the two of you.

Without hesitating, you tilt your upper body back, shifting your weight smoothly as you aim the marbled bow straight up toward the rainy skyline. Your eyes lock onto the crossbowman who had just alerted the others.

Twang!

The string snaps against your armguard. The black-fletched arrow arcs through the heavy sheets of rain, striking the man precisely in his thigh. He lets out a sharp yell of agony, losing his footing on the slick stone tiles of the aqueduct. With a wild flail of his arms, he comes crashing down off the roof, plummeting through the air before landing with a heavy, muffled thump right into a vendor's large cart of hay.

The hay explodes upward in a damp cloud, effectively neutralizing him. Your intention is crystal clear: you aren't out to take lives, just to disarm and disable. But the second crossbowman is already recovering from the shock, frantically pivoting his weapon back toward you.

"We need to run!" you shout over the roar of the rain and the screaming crowd, lowering your bow just enough to lock eyes with Kaelen, looking to him for guidance.

Kaelen is already moving. He doesn't need to be told twice. He springs into action, grabbing your upper arm securely to guide you through the panicked stampede of market-goers.

"With me! Rooftops are compromised, we take the drainage tunnels!" he yells back, his eyes darting to a heavy iron grate set into the stone wall of the aqueduct just twenty feet away.

A bolt from the second crossbowman whizzes past your ear, embedding itself deeply into a wooden stall post with a violent thunk.

Kaelen slides hard across the wet cobblestones, slamming his shoulder into the rusty iron grate. With a grunt of pure exertion, he wrenches it open, revealing a dark, rushing stone conduit that leads straight out of the market district. He looks back at you, the rain plastering his dark hair to his face, his moss-green eyes fierce.

"Ladies first, Red! Jump and slide, I'm right behind you!"

You leap without hesitation, tucking your marbled bow tight against your chest as you plunge into the dark, slick stone chute. For the first few seconds, you slide fast, gravity pulling you down the rushing conduit.

But halfway down, disaster strikes.

A jagged piece of a broken iron drain-cover projects from the stone wall. The heavy, oiled-leather fabric of your charcoal cloak snags violently on the metal hook. Your downward momentum stops with a brutal, bone-jarring jolt. Because the cloak is securely fastened at your throat, the sudden stop yanks the thick leather collar upward, tightening around your throat like a suffocating noose.

You gasp, but no air comes. The pressure cuts off your breath instantly, leaving you dangling helplessly in the pitch-black tunnel, your boots kicking at the empty air a few feet above the bottom of the chute. Your hands instinctively fly to your throat, desperately trying to tear at the suffocating leather strap, but the sheer weight of your suspended body makes the knot impossible to budge. Black spots begin to dance in your vision.

A second later, a heavy silhouette enters the top of the chute.

"Iris!" Kaelen’s voice echoes down the stone pipe, laced with immediate panic as he slides down and sees you swinging helplessly in the dark.

He realizes instantly that if he slides completely down, he will crash into you and break your neck. Acting on pure instinct, Kaelen throws his arms and legs outward, bracing his boots against the slippery stone walls of the narrow chute to violently arrest his own slide just a few feet above you.

"Hold on! Don't panic!" he roars, his voice echoing off the tight stone.

Through the haze of suffocating panic, you hear the sharp, metallic shring of steel. In a flash of movement, Kaelen leans down, bracing himself with one hand against the wall while driving his razor-sharp hidden dagger downward. He slices fiercely through the thick leather collar of your cloak right above your shoulder.

Rip!

The tension snaps. The heavy fabric gives way, and you drop straight down, landing hard on your hands and knees in the shallow, rushing water at the bottom of the drainage tunnel.

You collapse into the dark muck, drawing in a massive, ragged, choking breath of air. You cough violently, clutching your bruised throat as the cool oxygen rushes back into your lungs, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

Before you can even clear your vision, Kaelen drops down beside you, splashing into the water. He drops his daggers and falls to his knees, his hands trembling as they frame your face, lifting your head gently so he can look into your eyes.

"Iris! Look at me, breathe, just breathe," he begs, his voice cracking with a raw, uncharacteristic terror. He checks your throat, his fingers incredibly gentle against the angry red welt already forming where the collar had choked you. "Gods above, I thought... I thought I lost you. Talk to me, Red. Can you breathe?"

Your hands lose their grip on the wet stone floor, and your posture begins to sag. The rush of adrenaline is fading fast, leaving behind a heavy, terrifying exhaustion. Your vision remains hazy, the dark edges of the tunnel blurring together, and a profound sleepiness washes over you like a weighted blanket.

You try to find the words to tell him you're okay, to tell him you just need a moment, but your tongue feels thick and uncooperative. The chaotic sounds of the black market above and the rushing water beneath you start to sound distant, muffled by a low ringing in your ears. You just feel so incredibly tired.

"No, no, no. Iris, stay with me," Kaelen’s voice pierces through the fog, sharper now, filled with an intense urgency.

He catches you before you can slump into the dirty water, pulling your limp frame securely against his chest. One of his large hands cups the back of your head, keeping it elevated, while his other arm wraps tightly around your waist. He gently but firmly taps your cheek, trying to keep the heavy fog from claiming you.

"Don't close your eyes, Red. That’s the oxygen deprivation talking. You need to keep breathing," he commands softly, his heart hammering violently against your shoulder.

He looks up the dark, echoing tunnel, then down the path where the water drains out toward the river, his mind racing to find a safe place to hide. He can't carry you through the open streets like this, not with the syndicate on your heels.

He looks back down at you, his thumb gently wiping a smudge of wet soot from your cheek, his moss-green eyes fierce with determination. "I've got you. I'm not letting anything happen to you. Just focus on my voice, Iris. Stay with me."

The heavy fog in your brain slowly begins to lift. The distant ringing in your ear’s fades, replaced by the steady, comforting rhythm of Kaelen’s heartbeat against your shoulder. Air fills your lungs more easily now, clearing the terrifying sleepiness that had threatened to pull you under.

With a soft, ragged groan, you blink your eyes open. The blurriness recedes, and the dark, wet stones of the drainage tunnel come back into sharp focus. You move your hands, pressing them against Kaelen’s leather-clad chest for leverage as you weakly try to sit up on your own.

The moment you shift, Kaelen's grip relaxes just enough to let you move, but his arms stay securely around you, acting as a solid brace in case your strength fails again.

"Whoa, easy," he murmurs, a massive, breathless sigh of relief escaping his lips. The sheer terror in his moss-green eyes melts into profound gratitude as he watches you come back to him. "Don't rush it. Just sit up slowly."

He helps guide you until you're sitting upright against the curved stone wall of the tunnel, safely out of the rushing stream of water. He stays right on his knees in front of you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders, his gaze scanning your face to make sure the color is returning to your cheeks.

"There you are," he says, his voice a low, rough whisper. He tries to summon a faint ghost of his usual roguish smirk, though his hands are still trembling slightly. "You really know how to keep a guy on the edge of his seat, Red. How does your throat feel? Can you speak?"

You open your mouth to tell him you're fine, but the moment you try to speak, a dry, painful burn flares in your throat. Your voice comes out incredibly hoarse and raspy—barely a ghost of a whisper—causing you to wince and cough slightly.

"We need to go," you manage to force out, clearing your throat painfully. You look down the dark, twisting expanse of the conduit. "Is the safehouse still an option? Surely if we stay in the tunnels... they won't see where we are going."

Kaelen’s expression darkens with concern as he listens to your damaged voice, but he nods quickly, his sharp mind already calculating their moves.

"The safehouse is still our best bet," he says quietly, helping you steady yourself as you brace against the wall. "Lance and his lackeys only saw us in the market. They don't know about the cottage in the woods, and they definitely didn't see us drop down here. These main lines run all the way past the city walls before dumping out near the eastern ridge. If we follow the low overflow channels, we can loop back into the forest completely unseen."

He stands up fluidly, reaching down to scoop up your beautiful marbled bow and the quiver, checking to make sure the arrows are dry and intact. He secures them carefully to his own back, then turns and offers you both of his hands, his gaze locking onto yours with absolute protectiveness.

"Can you walk, Red?" he asks, his voice dropping into a gentle, supportive rumble. "It’s about a mile through the dark, and the footing is slick. If you need me to carry you, you just have to say the word. No pride allowed down here."

The moment you try to stand, the world completely tilts.

The dark stone walls of the conduit blur into a dizzying spin, and a sudden, violent head rush makes your ears ring all over again. Your knees turn to water, your balance completely deserts you, and you wobble heavily to the side, your shoulder smacking against the cold, wet masonry of the tunnel.

"I've got you!" Kaelen barks, moving with the lightning reflexes of a thief.

Before you can crash back down into the rushing water, his strong arms wrap around you. He catches you securely, hauling your weight against his chest and pinning you safely against the stone wall so you don't collapse. One of his hands rests firmly on the small of your back, while the other supports your neck, holding you steady until the spinning in your head starts to slow down.

He doesn't scold you. He just holds you tight, letting you breathe, his own heart hammering rapidly against your ribs.

The moment you try to stand, the world completely tilts.

The dark stone walls of the conduit blur into a dizzying spin, and a sudden, violent head rush makes your ears ring all over again. Your knees turn to water, your balance completely deserts you, and you wobble heavily to the side, your shoulder smacking against the cold, wet masonry of the tunnel.

"Alright, that settles it," Kaelen says softly, his voice a warm, resolute rumble right next to your ear. The playful teasing is entirely gone, replaced by absolute determination. "Pride is officially revoked for the evening, Red."

Before you can rasp out a protest, he shifts his weight. In one smooth, effortless motion, he slips one arm under your knees and the other around your back, scooping you clean off your feet and lifting you into a secure bridal carry. He adjusts your weight seamlessly, making sure your marbled bow and quiver aren't pinning your shoulder.

"Wrap your arms around my neck and keep your head down," he instructs gently, his moss-green eyes locking onto yours in the dim light. "It's a long, dark walk back to the woods, and you've done more than enough heavy lifting today. Just rest, Iris. I'm getting us home."

You don’t protest. The sheer exhaustion winning the battle inside your chest strips away any remaining stubborn pride. With a soft, defeated sigh, you simply let your weight melt entirely into his strength. You lift your heavy arms, wrapping them securely around his neck, and nuzzle your face right into the warm crook of his shoulder, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him—pine, old parchment, and the crisp rain clinging to his skin.

As Kaelen adjusts his grip and begins navigating the pitch-black, rushing tunnels with smooth, careful strides, the rhythmic swaying of his movement pulls you deeper into the dark.

Just before your consciousness slips away entirely, you let out a tiny, hazy murmur against his skin. "I should do this more often..." You sleepy mention, your raspy voice fading into a quiet breath.

Above you, Kaelen misses a step for a fraction of a second, nearly losing his footing on the slick stone. A soft, utterly breathless laugh escapes his chest, vibrating right against your cheek.

"Careful, Red," he whispers back into the darkness, his voice incredibly gentle as he tightens his arms around you, pulling you just a little bit closer to his heart. "You keep talking like that, and I might just refuse to ever set you back down. Sleep, Iris. I've got you."

Safely tucked away against him, the cold world of the syndicate, the market, and the rain fades to absolute nothingness as you finally drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.