Rise of the Falsemarked (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 2)

by Samuel Gately

Cal waved a hand in front of his face, willing the thing to leave him alone. It had talked nonstop since Cal’s return to the cell. His triumphant return, dragged by a couple blues, wagering on whether he’d last the night. They’d dropped him in the middle of the cell then left, Narrows watching the whole thing. The men hadn’t bothered removing the muzzle from Cal’s mouth. Between that and the poison of the asps, spreading across his body and filling his limbs with a horrible pressure, Cal found himself helpless when it came to getting the corpse to shut up.

  The quiet of the cell had lasted only moments. Then the corpse had begun talking, filling the silence with chatter. It had taken Cal a long while to realize he was talking to a dead man. Or really, listening. The muzzle prevented him from responding. The corpse went on about long journeys, long distances it was taken. Being brought to the wrong horizons. It wanted to go home, not to Ellis. Not back to NEST. “You’re in the west,” Cal said into his muzzle. “For these are not your lands.”

  For a second the corpse looked at Cal. Cal was sprawled out on one hip, an elbow holding his shoulders off the floor, trying not to throw up. One arm was thrown out to the side. He was trying to get it as far away from him as possible, might consider taking it off if the pain got any worse. His left arm. The one he’d used to block the snakes after he’d lost the broken sword. When the corpse looked up, it shed its face, the face of an unknown man, puffed and blistered with decay. Suddenly Cal was looking at himself. He shuddered, and the corpse became an unknown again. Was Cal dying? Maybe he’d already crossed the line. That might explain why he was passing the time talking to a corpse.

  It seemed to move towards him. Cal moaned and it retreated. “Tell me of the snakes,” it said. “Tell me of Hideon Bray.” The corpse kept shuffling back and forth between appearing like Cal and appearing like a different man entirely, one Cal had never met. When Cal didn’t respond, it tried again. “Sing the song of the Borhele, then. It’s all that’s keeping you here.”

  Cal looked around and saw the cell was filled with dancing Borhele. Just beyond them, the bars of the cell were made of long, marked sticks. There was fire all around them, too much fire. It was burning his side, the wound Pallor DaNeel had given him in an alley with a dirty knife long ago. Cal shook his head hard. The Borhele were gone. The pain was not, side screaming. The corpse was still there, sitting upright as Barbayir had, nearly close enough to touch.

  “Okay,” Cal said. “Okay, just…give me a minute.” He tried to find his center, stop the warmth from leaking out of him. It felt like a dragon was standing on his arm. His bones would be crushed to powder from the pressure. And still it climbed up his torso. When it reached his neck his head might burst. Or he would be squeezed out of air. He’d drown in the Bay of Castalan, a fate he’d spent his life running from.

  Cal summoned his jagged memory of the snakes and tried to put it into something like words. He fed the muzzle a series of murmurs, punctuated by limp, pained gestures. The corpse nodded along eagerly, somehow capturing and savoring every word.

  “The snakes came fast. I knew they would. That was all I knew. The rest was a guess.”

  Cal had guessed right. He’d flung himself forward the moments the snakes were out of the bags. They couldn’t all reach him at the same time or he’d be dead in seconds. He ran at the two closest in front of him. They’d recoiled, more guardians than soldiers. New to the revenge business. It gave him a chance to isolate one of the asps on the side. It had struck, but Cal was ready and caught it with the broken sword, bloodied it a bit. Then the snakes from behind were there and things got ugly. Cal had pivoted, forcing one of them to miss as it attacked his leg. The other scored on his ankle, prompting a huge cheer from the falsemarked who surrounded the fight. Luckily the cheer had startled the other snakes, causing them to momentarily fall back into defensive positions. One attacked the crowd, adding to the chaos. Cal calmly sliced the asp attached to his ankle off at the neck, but not before he felt searing pain shoot up his leg.

  He turned back to the other snakes. Four now, one bite. He had to move fast. The snake he’d bloodied was closest. He used the broken sword to pin it against the ground, turned to step on it as he swung at the approaching others. They scattered, giving him a free moment to lean down and kill his second snake. Just when Cal had begun to think he was doing okay all three remaining snakes attacked at once. And the poison kicked in, nearly paralyzing him with pain. Three more bites before he took care of the rest of the guardian asps, the last one with his bare hands. By then the pain had him seeking unconsciousness. He barely heard Bray addressing the crowd about the price of theft. Cal was picked up off the floor.

  “And then…” Cal realized he was back on the cell floor, shaking for need of water. Telling a story to a dead man, who seemed to be following along whether he spoke it aloud or not.

  The corpse looked over him. Its face was of the unknown man, the decayed man, then Cal again. The corpse asked, gently, “How did we get to such a strange place? Why didn’t you give yourself to me in the Bay? So much wasted time just to get back where we started.”

  “I’m not you,” Cal said, fighting to keep his breath. “You’re not me. I’m alive.”

  “Not for long. You’ll die from the poison. Or the beggar will find a shadow to hide in, come get you while the others face the wall. He might be in the corners right now.”

  Cal turned, panicked, he checked the corners of the room but they were growing in number. He gave up after the eighth. If the beggar came, he came.

  The corpse continued, “From where you sit right now, we are not so far apart, you and me.”

  “But my role in this game is done,” Cal said. “I was supposed to get here, learn what the Borhele were doing. That was it. I did my job, filled my contract. I can’t do more than that. I have no home. My dragons are in hiding. And I’m lost. Where are we?”

  “Then why didn’t you leave the city when you were out, away from the beggar and Bray, out of sight from their unholy union of lies?”

  “There’s someone in the inner circle…not supposed to be there.” A long pause. “Aaron needs me.”

  The corpse laughed grimly, a horrible sound that echoed in Cal’s swollen head. “Tell me about it. What doesn’t he need? He needs everything. He should taste death, learn how futile his actions are.”

  The floor tried to sneak up on Cal. He caught himself, still up on one elbow. There were wet spots on the stones below him. Blood or drool, something unpleasant. “What have you got against Aaron?” The corpse laughed again. Cal went on, feeling stronger as a wave of dizziness passed. “He needs you too. That’s why you’re upset. My part is done. I went west. I met Barbayir. It was a lie, a false lead.” Cal squinted towards the darkest corner. He thought he could see Barbayir sitting crosslegged in the cell. It was just Cal’s shadow, thrown on the walls by the flickering torches.

  He turned back to the corpse. It held his face for a moment, but Cal waved his hand in front of his eyes. Back to the face of the unfamiliar man. “You still have a story to tell. That’s why you’re so upset. You can’t go on until you tell it. But you’d better tell it soon. The torches are going out.” The lights dimmed and finally fled as Cal passed out, head in the dirt.

  Later in the night, he half woke to a voice, coming from the darkness outside the cell, asking him over and over about his father and something they found under the dark waters together. Even if Cal had known what was happening, the muzzle held any answers locked inside of him.

  The Day of Battle

  Chapter 32. Back to the Stairs

  EU prepared to throw everything they had into the Shields attack. Matt James, Shale, and some other EU leaders fielded a flurry of questions from their cell heads as the sun rose high in the sky. It was near time. The group was gathered just a block or so away from the main entrance to the Shields, at ground level where it linked to the west landing, putting in final orders in a back alley. The mood was mixed. Many were eager to finally swing at the
heart of NEST. Others had reservations, given how poorly the attack of a couple nights ago had gone. NEST had large numbers of riders and dragons in the upper levels of the Shields, leftovers from the large gathering the night before. Thus far, Shale had kept Aaron’s plan hidden, even from Matt.

  Matt James was running the attack. This morning he’d outlined it for Aaron. They would break into four pieces, the four remaining arms of EU. One group to attack the landing, at least pin the blues to the ground. Two groups to attack the main staircase running up the interior of the bluff and make their way to the top of the Shields. Once they got there, half of them would retreat downward, as though being driven away. They would drive NEST to focus their main push back down the main staircase. The other men were all wearing stolen blue uniforms under their clothes. They would slide into the ranks of the counterattack, make the staircase run red with blood. A nasty plan, lots of close fighting with confused and uncertain allies and enemies. The death toll would be high on both sides.

  The fourth group was escorting Shale and Aaron up a lesser known staircase. It was old and disused, but Matt James insisted it would take them close to the top. Close to Bray. He’d made it clear to Aaron that anything less than Bray’s body would be a failure given how many lives they intended to sacrifice.

  “Get to the top,” Matt said. “Kill Bray and any of the other NEST leaders you can. Try to keep the riders from getting organized and bringing the dragons into the fight.”

  “How do we know this attack hasn’t been leaked?” Aaron asked Shale and Matt.

  Shale replied, “We don’t. But the odds are okay. We haven’t given anyone much time. No one on our side had any idea this was coming two hours ago. Of course, that's helped keep our numbers low. We don't have as many as I'd like.”

  EU scattered as the attack commenced. No one spoke as they raced through the narrow streets, boots too loud for the quiet neighborhood. Soon the noise of the attack on the west landing reached Aaron and Shale’s group. Screams, shouting of orders, and swords meeting. Aaron watched a dragon fly up to the top of the bluffs, carrying word to the upper parts of the Shields that NEST was under attack. Shale led their group into a small entrance to the tunnels under the bluffs.

  The stairs were old and narrow. They were forced to go single file, skipping broken steps. Soon they were all covered in dust and cobwebs. There were ten of them, none Aaron knew aside from Shale. She’d probably designed it that way, increasing her odds of making it out alive if Aaron betrayed her. She went first while he was placed at the back. The intimacy of last night was a distant memory.

  The sound of his steps on the stairs brought him back to the brothel on the Tannes-Eostre where he’d first learned the Prisoner held NEST’s reins. DeMarco Sellers, SDC’s man in Ellis who’d been burned, identity exposed, had led Aaron up those stairs past the guard facing the wall. DeMarco was now back in Tannes along the bulk of the SDC forces. There was no chance of getting reinforcements into Ellis. If Aaron couldn’t find a way to break NEST, they’d give up the west as lost. Then they might as well start lining up for Bray. He’d be coming soon enough.

  …

  They reached the top landing after a long climb. The stairs were in better condition near the top. There were signs of use. Shale sent a man scouting ahead. He came back and whispered quietly to her. She turned to the group, held up five fingers. Aaron stayed at the back while they waited. He thought about the dream, Hideon Bray lining up the Corvale to be dropped to their deaths. He began drawing up the name and face of every Corvale he knew, imagined watching them die on the rocks below the Hall of Far East. By the time Shale gave the signal to move, he’d managed to put more than one hundred fifty in a line, waiting for Bray.

  The scout led them down a well-lit hallway then up one last flight of stairs. The midday sun blasted them as they surfaced on the top level of the Shields. Hands went to brows as the men scanned above them, waiting for their eyes to adjust. Up here the falsemarked and the blues weren’t the only threat. There were the dragons to contend with. Aaron knew their behavior better than anyone. He knew they’d sit on the sidelines unless their riders pulled them into the fray. But they’d be watching. He was counting on it. That and their long memories.

  The upper level of the Shields was bustling. News of the attacks below had men scrambling to get swords belted on, uniforms tucked in. It looked as though many of the men had been sleeping well past noon, fighting hangovers from the night before. It smelled of stale fire. Some of the braziers still smoked.

  Shale turned to the men. “Spread out. Cause trouble where you can. Avoid the dragons. Try to keep me in your sights and return when I signal. For now I need you to clear out though. Aaron and I are about to go get captured.” The men scurried off. There were a few shouts as their presence was noted but it blended into the chaos from the other end, presumably where the main staircase was under attack.

  Aaron found Bray off in the distance, issuing orders, a circle of falsemarked around him, dragons clustered beyond them. Aaron hadn’t seen the Shields before, not this part. He’d only seen the dark tunnels below, not the sprawled out majesty his enemy had created, the vast army of dragons collected under the midday sun.

  Aaron looked at the many dragons in sight with the eyes of a collector, gauging temperament, wingspan, strength, intelligence. He coveted the tools Bray held. Shale was stiff beside him. Aaron tried to see through her eyes for a moment. For her, this wasn’t a place of beauty, a place to desire. For her, dragons were nightmares. They’d come in a horde, placing her enemies in a position of power, high above the city. They’d given every advantage to NEST, the worst kind of bullies, organized under a seemingly unstoppable tyrant. She would happily burn this place, drive every dragon from Ellis, Eostre, the world.

  He looked towards Bray’s distant group. Cal wasn’t there. Aaron had told him to accept the next offer Bray made, but both had known Cal might not get a second chance. Kade Korrell had let slip that Cal was here last night, which meant he’d at least survived the attack on the apartments. If he wasn’t here, he might be in a cell below. Or he might already be dead.

  Aaron touched Shale’s arm, but she’d already seen Bray in the distance. For a second they stood still, looking at each other. In a few moments, they’d both have a golden opportunity to betray each other. If either spoke out of turn, their chance would be lost. If Shale wanted to surrender SDC for reward to EU or herself, now would be the time. Likewise if Aaron wanted to surrender EU’s leadership as his own bargaining chip. Together they started jogging towards Bray.

  Falsemarked and blues were running around the white floors, mostly headed away from Shale and Aaron. They were still unaware any of their enemy had reached the top of the Shields. It looked like the NEST forces were clustering towards the center where the main staircase surfaced. Matt James had strategized their approach well. They drew steadily closer, no alarms yet.

  Finally, the group around Bray all turned their heads at once, spotting Aaron and Shale. The beggar was there and had alerted the group with a noise. A few of the blues around them drew sword, started off towards Aaron and Shale. Bray held them up with a word. He waited patiently as Aaron and Shale continued their approach.

  Aaron studied the group. Bray. The beggar, whom Shale had named as DaNeel. A tall one with a bald head. That would be Narrows. A few other blues and falsemarked. None of the politicians or nobles who would have been here the night before and no one who matched Clay Duren’s description.

  Bray watched quietly as they approached. The stillness of his frame, standing motionless amidst the evolving chaos around him, showcased a dangerous power, an indomitable confidence. “Aaron Lorne. Shale Kormet. You missed the party last night. You missed the entertainment.” Bray was in his customary vest, bronze marks on broad shoulders showing. Today he wore a large sword strapped to his back. Aaron and Shale kept walking closer. “I was just going to send for you. I want you to see today’s show, when I at last crush the rebell
ion. And now I’ll be getting the face of SDC while I’m at it. Looks to be a beautiful day.”

  “We need to talk,” Aaron said. He unbuckled his swordbelt, threw it at the feet of the nearest blue.

  “We have talked plenty,” Bray said. “You bore me. You have nothing I want, nothing I need. Just more talk.”

  “But I have something for you, something you’ll want. Something you need. A secret my passenger carried to Ellis with me.”

  “The body? There’s nothing on it. I tire of hearing of it. It was a tired joke, a sad attempt at misdirection. Cal Mast is still alive. Or at least he was a few hours ago. Probably not anymore.” Bray laughed and his men joined him.

  “I flew halfway across the country with a joke riding beside me? You know me better than that, Bray, even though you pretend not to. What have I done without purpose before?”

  “It’s nothing. It’s always been nothing.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s the most powerful weapon in the coming war. And I’ll show you why if you take me to it.” Aaron looked Bray in the eyes. “Kill me without learning it and you kill one of the greatest truth about dragons I know. Don’t forget, I found them first. I know more than you. Can you handle that?” Aaron needed Bray’s competitive nature to kick in. The entire plan was predicated on it. Every move of the past three months calculated to inflame it, harness it.

  “No,” Bray said.

  “Then take me to it. Or bring it to me. What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m afraid of nothing more than you wasting more of my time when I should be focusing on crushing the sad remnants of your little girlfriend’s club.”

  Aaron held his tongue. He could sense Bray wavering. Finally, Bray turned to Aubrey Narrows. “Send some men to go get it.”

  Aubrey looked up sharply at Bray. “I gave the key to Clay. He said you ordered him to take Mast to the lower cells.”

  Bray’s face darkened. “He lied. I said no such thing.” The words hung in the air for a moment. A cloud passed over the bright sun overhead. The noise of the battle around them was growing. Bray said, “We’ve been betrayed. Clay’s trying to free Mast. DaNeel, go get them. I want both dead before you return. Aubrey, stay here but send some men with DaNeel. They can bring the body back up if it’s still there. We’re nearly finished with Mr. Lorne, here. I’ll hear what he has to say about it, then I might make him eat it.”