Night of the Chalk (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 1)

by Samuel Gately

  Cal fought the sensation of falling that had gathered in the back of his head. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was a weapon like no other he’d ever seen. He forced himself to focus. His presence had been noticed and recognized by several of the men clustered behind some arbitrary line they had determined to be safe from the beast. Beasts, he modified, as he noticed another large dragon framing the tent on the other side.

  The men swarmed around him. He was well known to be one of Aaron’s closest friends. It appeared everyone thought Aaron was behind this and that Cal had information.

  “Cal, what is going on here?” said Guy Tulver, one of the higher-ups in Delhonne’s Home Guard.

  “A word please, Mr. Mast,” said the man representing the Tannes state government, less direct but no less demanding. It was the one who had called Cal a prick. The two government men refused to look at each other. The struggles between state and city were relentless. Neither man would be happy the other was there.

  Cal ignored them for the moment. The crowd fell silent as he studied the tent. He recognized the blue light streaming from the small opening. Aaron carried a magical blue everlight with him. Cal also recognized the tent. Cal reached over to borrow Erik’s dagger from him, then clanged it loudly against the metal bracelet he wore three times. The sound carried over the voices down into the alley. After a few seconds the tent flap opened and a dark, hooded silhouette emerged. It beckoned, then returned to the tent, letting the flap fall back into place.

  “Pardon me, gentlemen,” Cal said before anyone else could react. He steeled himself and took his first steps beyond the imaginary line of safety and into the alley. There was a brief commotion. Some drew back, some made as if to surge forward, some called out cautions, others called out threats. Ben wisely remained where he was. He had reaped the benefits of arriving on the scene with one of the main actors in tonight’s drama. Any more would be pushing his luck. Erik similarly stayed still, after glancing at Cal’s left hand near his thigh, grateful Cal had spared him the extended ring finger gesture which would have directed him to accompany his employer.

  Cal noticed little of the reactions. He was now locked in to his path. He walked steadily down the alley, taking the opportunity to study the magnificent creatures that were likely to kill him in a few seconds. At this point he was no longer surprised to see a third dragon behind the first. He recognized the defensive positioning of the three and looked for and found a fourth covering the final corner of the tent. There might be a fifth inside, or maybe hidden by the tent. Aaron was partial to groupings of five and this was his party.

  Cal had heard of dragons, even seen drawings. He’d seen diagrams so detailed they were either based on science or were amazing pieces of fantasy, but dragons had existed only in legend before tonight. They were part of stories, sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes little more than animals, sometimes smarter than people and possessing the ability to speak and do magic. In a world that had rare but undeniable magic and creatures as unusual as the Chalk or minotaur, only the naïve believed that there was no more to life than what they saw. But coming face to face with creatures of legend was very different than reading about them in books.

  As Cal neared, the dragons in front shifted smoothly into uniform low stances, their long bodies almost touching the ground, feet wide, and head held high. Some sort of fighting stance? Where would they strike first? Simultaneously or one following the other? Cal would have to pass between them. Aaron, and hopefully that was Aaron, wouldn’t have summoned Cal just to tear him to pieces in front of a good part of Delhonne’s population. Cal straightened his shoulders and continued forward, all the while wishing for another cigarette or pull of whiskey.

  As he passed between the dragons’ heads, he could hear the deep breathing of the marvelous creatures. When it became apparent they were not going to attack, Cal took a moment to admire the beauty and deadliness of the finest fighting machines he had ever seen. Thick scale armor. Obvious strength. Flight. No wonder the city was crowded around in wonder and greed. Even having never seen these things in action, Cal’s imagination raced at the possibilities. This discovery would be followed by bloodshed. The message had already spread. There was no stopping it now. Throats would be cut tonight. Men would be bought and sold, moved around like pieces on a gaming board. Sleep disturbed. Swords polished.

  Cal approached the tent, drew back the tent flap, and ducked in.

  Chapter 5. An Overdue Reunion

  Aaron Lorne drew back the cowl of his traveling cloak as Cal entered the tent. There was just enough room for the two men to stand upright. A dull blue light filled the tent. A neat pile of gear sat in one corner and a map of Tannes was spread on the gravel ground. A small silver washbowl, the kind commonly found with Corvale travelers, sat near the map.

  Cal studied Aaron for a moment, a confusing swirl of emotions racing through him. He’d given up Aaron for dead years ago. His death had left Cal bereft of the sense of purpose and pride that had come from the time they spent together. Aaron had made it clear he didn’t want to be followed when he headed east with only the Dura Mati by his side. That left Cal alone to face the months of healing it had taken to recover from the shattered ribs he’d been dealt during their last trip together. Now here was Aaron, looking roughly the same, if a little thinner and more sunburned than usual.

  Aaron wore a long traveling cloak with a sword belted under it. He had roughly cut short brown hair and dark eyes. He was shorter than Cal but similarly thin in frame and leanly muscled. His paler skin was perpetually sunburned, more so now than Cal had seen before. Aaron was not unattractive, but he had a nasty pixie eye on his right cheek that gave him a rough, intimidating look.

  Pixie eyes were rare these days. A vicious knot of scars found directly under one’s eye, they most frequently adorned the warrior tribes of the eastern plains. They were most common among Aaron’s now largely extinct Corvale nation. Dark pixies roamed the eastern borders of civilization. The name pixie was a mocking euphemism for the nasty, violent creatures. They were about half the size of a man with dark blue and purple bodies. Their long arms were swift and ended in sharp claws. Hunters of dark pixies learned to paint large fake eyes on their cheeks. Eyes were the universally preferred target of the beasts. The fake eyes drew the pixies’ claws low when they got in a good strike. They aimed for the larger fake eyes, often ripping half the face off a man. This led to some ugly wounds, but kept the warrior intact to continue the fight. Aaron had received his pixie eye at the age of thirteen. The scar tissue was now old and white and didn’t pain him, though he was in the habit of rubbing it when deep in thought.

  Staring at his old friend, Cal felt a rising excitement. Everything had been moving so quickly. However their falling out had affected him, Cal was relieved to know that the man he considered a brother was alive. And apparently doing reasonably well, at least based on the new allies outside. He still needed work on his timing though.

  Cal bent at the knees and briskly washed his hands in the washbowl, then straightened. Not exactly sure how to break the silence, he looked around him. “So, you definitely make an entrance.”

  Aaron gave a small smile. “It’s good to see you, Cal,” he said. “It’s been a long night.”

  “Well, you know, you’re just lucky I didn’t have other plans tonight,” Cal replied. “You’re a few days early for the Festival of Clouds.”

  “Honestly, Cal, I’m not even sure what month it is.”

  “Well, I can tell you it’s been about three years since anyone last saw you. Three years. I thought you were painted and buried. Where have you been? Do you have any idea—”

  The dragons out front roared. The jarring sound was followed by the sounds of one or two armored men hastily retreating back up the alley. Aaron and Cal shared a look. Their privacy was temporary.

  “You’re about a week out from the Festival of Clouds. In case it wasn’t clear coming in, you’re in the Crestland bar district. Te
ll me what the situation is and how I can help. Later we’ll get a drink and discuss how you managed to stay alive these past three years and were still unable to get in touch.” Cal purposefully allowed bitterness creep into his voice towards the end. Three years was a long time to go without word. Cal and Aaron rarely discussed anything emotional, anything about how they felt. Cal knew Aaron wouldn’t share why he’d left so abruptly unless asked. And Cal probably wouldn’t ask.

  “Thanks.” Aaron rubbed at his pixie eye, for a moment shedding his air of confidence. “I was moving this flight east to meet the Dura Mati. We were attacked by another flight just outside Delhonne a couple hours ago. It was a mess. I almost didn’t see them until too late. They injured one of the dragons, badly. I knew we were going down so I headed for the heart of Delhonne. The enemy clearly wanted to keep me out so I kept pushing. Came down in the alley. Threw up the tent, set up a position, tried to reach you. I haven’t been feeling very talkative so I tried to keep the crowds at a distance.”

  “You flew in on these things?” Cal asked.

  “Crashed might be more accurate,” Aaron replied. “But yes, they let me ride them. And they’ll let you too.” He walked to the tent flap, opened it, and leaned out. He made some gesture to one of the dragons at the rear corner and held the flap open as the dragon padded over and slid its enormous head into the tent. “Show him your marks,” Aaron said to Cal.

  Cal stared into the vast eyes of the creature. After a moment’s hesitation, he slowly removed his shirt. Aaron picked up the glowing blue everlight from the tent’s corner and held it near Cal’s left side. It lit up the series of tattoos beginning at his waist, creeping up his side and onto his left shoulder. Cal did his best to stay perfectly still as the dragon tilted its head and brought it closer.

  One of the traditions of the Corvale was placing marks on their skin to record their deeds of war and enemies slain. The marks served many purposes. Warriors used them as a basis for comparison. Advancement in military ranks was dependent on the marks. The tattooing process was celebratory at the end of battles and journeys. But its main purpose was to encourage the Corvale, a warlike people, to endlessly hunt the Chalk that threatened their way of life.

  Aaron introduced Cal to marking. Cal took to it eagerly, being naturally competitive and vain about his aptitude in a fight. Cal’s marks, for those few who knew how to interpret them, would have impressed many of the hardest Corvale warriors. They still fell far short of Aaron, who had marks all the way down his left arm and over most of his right shoulder.

  Beginning at the waist, Cal’s marks told the story of the deaths he had delivered. The majority were done in black ink. A few were copper-colored. Individual Chalk were shown as silhouettes of small, slightly twisted men. Single kill marks wound up Cal’s side. They mixed with the larger multiple kill marks that showed the silhouettes of groups and occasionally included a number. Dark pixies, trolls, goblins, Jerr hounds, grey bears, and men were also represented, each with their own symbol. Mixed in were marks showcasing the rescue of innocents. There were also a few images depicting battles and foes. The largest single mark on Cal was a scene on his left shoulder. It showed smoke pouring out of the S’Rghat Chalk prison with the symbols for over three hundred Chalk dead and fifty innocents rescued, led out of the prison and into a storm by a chain of beasts. Aaron had an identical one.

  The dragon peered closely at Cal’s side, eyes moving slowly over the patterns. Cal was eager to learn more about the creatures. He was already revising his preliminary observations. They were clearly more animal than human at least in temperament and behavior, but they showed some obvious intelligence. This one, and presumably the others, knew how to read the tattoos. And, based on Aaron’s actions, make some sort of judgment. The dragon breathed out definitively. Hot air pressed against Cal’s side. Aaron nodded as if the reaction had been expected. The dragon withdrew his head after making eye contact with Cal for the first time.

  There was a moment of silence following the departure of the dragon.

  “That was a test?” Cal asked. When Aaron nodded, he continued, “What would have happened if I failed?”

  Aaron shrugged. “I was pretty sure you wouldn’t. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Those marks of yours just got a lot more valuable.”

  Cal stared after the dragon a moment, then turned to Aaron. “We’ve got to get off the streets. Tell me what you need.”

  Aaron nodded. “The injured dragon needs a wide cart, probably a two-horse. No idea how horses will feel about being near a dragon. The others can walk a little ways, or could fly if needed, but I’d like to show the crowds as little as possible. We need a position we can secure. I was thinking rent out a stable, someplace close. We need some guards we trust, some way to dissuade the organized soldiers from finding an excuse to try to take control. We can’t lose sight of the fact that someone else attacked me or ordered an attack with a flight of five dragons, so we’re not alone in having some flight power. This enemy either spotted me on a dark night outside Delhonne, which means he may have had patrols and may be headquartered in or near here. Or he knew I was coming, and I have no idea how that could be. The dragons who attacked looked like these except they had white around their eyes and nose, which may or may not have been chalk, so we may be dealing with some new sort of Chalk threat. I thought the dragons gave me a major advantage in reestablishing order in the far east, but apparently I’m not the first to the party. Now we’re exposed to the entire city because I let someone get the better of me. We’re surrounded by politicians, nobility, spies, and gangsters who will do everything they can to take these dragons away from me, lock us up, buy or enslave us. I’m worried the injured dragon is going to die, and I have no idea how the other dragons will react to one of their own dying. Tonight was my first battle in the air and I got my ass handed to me. And I need a drink. But on the plus side did I mention it’s good to see you?”

  Cal laughed. “How much money have we got to play with? I can get a little bit of gold to throw around for the next few hours but my war chest is a little light. We may need to partner up to get out of Delhonne intact.”

  Aaron leaned towards the corner and dragged a small chest out of the pile. It was packed with enough gold coins to buy an army. He grabbed a full purse off the top and threw it to Cal. “Not a problem.”

  Cal’s mind raced. “Okay, do what you need to get these things ready to move. We leave in ten minutes. The destination is called Rosetta Stables. It’s a bit rundown but it’s close. I think it isn’t in anyone’s pocket already like some of the other stables. A bunch of stables will be fighting for the right to be the first in Delhonne to cater to dragons.” Aaron nodded. Cal took a breath and stepped out into the street.

  Chapter 6. The Parade

  Erik watched the tent anxiously. Despite his best efforts to project unfriendliness to the milling crowd, still several approached and tried to talk with him. Erik was not interested. He had no direction and no interest in alliance. He was uncomfortable being in such close proximity to calculating men, looking to factor him into their plans. Erik needed to wait, not give anything away. He’d always been better suited following orders than setting them.

  The last few years had been difficult from that perspective. When Erik had agreed to join the Mast House in Delhonne as a family retainer, he had jumped at the opportunity to work for Cal Mast. Stories had trickled back to Castalan of the deeds of the steward’s youngest son. Erik hadn’t been disappointed when he arrived in Delhonne. Cal was fearless, fast, and somehow always in the thick of things. He was a demanding employer and there were far safer jobs, but Cal looked out for his men and treated them as equals. Erik traveled east more than once with Aaron Lorne and Cal, bloodied his sword next to them. But once Aaron left, Cal had not been the same.

  The reality of working for Cal had proved less exciting after that. It was much more of a babysitting job than expected. Cal settled into life in Delhonne. But he neglected his hered
itary role and the diplomatic expectations that accompanied having a Castalan-funded residence in Delhonne. He spent most of his time playing cards and making enemies. The business with Cullmore had the entire Mast House on edge. It didn’t help morale that Cal had proved impossible to track down over the past few days.

  Finally, here was Cal again, emerging from the tent. Erik waited, watching for a signal to approach. Though he wouldn’t have minded if Cal put some space between him and the dragons before summoning Erik. As he watched Cal, Erik noted with relief that Cal’s bleary-eyed expression from before had given way to a more sharp, decisive demeanor. He still looked tired, unshaven and in wrinkled clothes. But Cal looked confidently into the waiting crowd, almost as if pricing them for sale. It looked as if the Cal Mast that Erik had followed to Delhonne had finally been roused from his long slumber.

  …

  Pausing between the two dragons in front of the tent, Cal rolled a cigarette and studied the crowd. It studied him back.

  Cal had spent plenty of time in both battle and in diplomatic work. They shared more in common than one would expect. He had learned that understanding the perspective of the person at the other end of the sword or table could be a tremendous edge. Other nobles rarely thought to interpret the way others saw the world. They cared about the needs of their families and peers, which typically mirrored their own. These needs and wants evolved around paranoia over social and economic status and the endless quest for greater social and economic status.

  This crowd was different. This was not the nobility. Aside from the casual onlookers, most were agents of some sort and almost universally acting for the benefit of the wealthy. Nearly everyone here was on the clock in some way or another. Most would be merely interested in keeping tabs on the action and reporting it. Some would try to curry favor or get a commitment to meet with Cal and Aaron, with the possibility of acquiring access to the dragons as a goal. Some would be looking to see if employment could come out of this. The nobility would seek alliances once they knew more. Others might try to take the dragons by stealth and violence, but probably not right now. Everyone wanted information. And of course there was still the unknown enemy to worry about. Cal was most concerned about the various government reps. They had been no doubt evaluating the possibility of declaring the group to be a public threat and moving to imprison all of them.