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

by Samuel Gately

  “The hound was panting, snarling to itself. It barely fit in the tunnel. It was dragging itself forward in an awkward crawl, by the sound. I fell quiet with some idea that I could hide from it, but obviously there was no place to go. I think it must have smelled me getting closer or have known what it meant when the sounds of my crawling stopped. It let out a small moan and started dragging itself forward twice as fast. The desperate sound in the darkness was terrifying.

  “I panicked and shoved myself through the small hole, pushing as hard as I could. I was able to squeeze through, but in the process I widened the hole for the Jerr hound. I heard it struggling through the hole, but it didn’t take the monster as long to get through as it did me, even though it was bigger. I was racing for my life. If it caught me from behind, I might be able to kick it a couple times, but I would be no match for its teeth once it had grabbed hold of me. It would tear me to pieces, probably slowly. I had only a small knife, which I couldn’t even turn to use. I couldn’t let it catch me. If the tunnel was blocked again, worse than that first one, I would die, just like everyone else.

  “We seemed to move at the same pace, though it was hard to judge just by the sound. But no matter how fast I moved, the hound was always a little ways behind me if I stopped to listen. We continued like this for hours. My knees were bloody and battered. My palms were scraped raw. I was exhausted. But finally, I realized I was seeing light from somewhere.

  “I started crawling faster. The light grew until I could see my hands moving on the stone beneath me. And then at last I saw an opening in the tunnel, a rugged square of bright sunlight straight ahead. I turned to look behind me as best I could and saw movement only about fifty feet back. The Jerr hound’s eyes and teeth caught the light and I knew it hadn’t given up.

  “I faced forward and crawled towards the opening. My legs and back were screaming for the space to stand and stretch. I had no idea what was waiting for me. I had visions of straightening up among a large group of Chalk, or more Jerr hounds, or even that strange clean Chalk that had led the Slaughter. More than anything I wanted my mother. I think I…” Aaron held up the limp shepra, “…I thought of this, a bit. I thought about what it meant to protect something. I knew I was only protecting myself, but this made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It gave me strength.

  “When I arrived at the opening it was quiet. The tunnel opened into another small pit, but my tunnel was the only one there. I stood up, my knees raw and bleeding, and looked around. Featureless plains in three directions. Straight ahead a little ways away there was a forest at the bottom of a short slope. I looked back in the direction I had come from but I couldn’t see any signs of the Chalk, the Corvale, anything. I heard the approaching Jerr hound. I jumped out of the pit to run for the forest.

  “I only took two or three steps. Then I stopped. The hound behind me would have no trouble tracking me to the forest, even assuming I had enough of a lead to get out of its sight. And it was faster than me. And when it caught up to me I would die. There was no way I could survive a Jerr hound. At least not in the open. I tried to think, was there a way to trap it? Could I close off the tunnel? Someplace else to hide? But there was no way I could see, and every second the hound was getting closer. I could hear the pattern of its step-step-drag, step-step-drag. I realized the only chance I had was to kill it before it left the tunnel.

  “I only had a few seconds to get ready. I drew my knife. I looked around for a rock. I found one at the far end of the pit, about the size of both my fists. I turned to the tunnel opening. My eyes had quickly adjusted to the daylight, and all I could see now was blackness. I steadied myself. I got down on my knees and stuck my head back into the tunnel. In just a moment or two I could see the hound, again just by bloodshot eyes and long yellowish teeth. It snarled as it saw me and continued clawing its way forward, eyes and teeth bobbing up and down in the darkness.

  “I crawled forward to meet it a few feet inside the tunnel, with the rock and my knife in front of me. I was more afraid than I had ever been. I just wanted to turn and run, but I thought about my mother, and all my friends. I thought that if there were no Corvale left, then it was just me who was a Corvale. Maybe the bravery of our people could live on, maybe it could find me, a little kid scared in a dark tunnel.

  “The Jerr hound snarled as it got closer. It smelled like blood and chalk. The last drag pulled it close enough and I held out the rock in its face. As I’d hoped, the hound snapped at it in the darkness. Its jaw twisted and the beast’s head turned to the right. I heard teeth break, but the rock was pulled from my hand. I had my only shot, and I aimed the knife for the open eye in front of me. It struck home. I buried the blade deep into the eye. The hound howled and tried to escape the pain. It tried to straighten its legs, kicking up dust and scratching on the stone. It bucked wildly in the small tunnel, but I had hurt it badly. Its life was pouring out. It struck blindly at the walls and the floor. After a moment, I began crawling backwards. I wanted to get out of the tunnel. Even if it didn’t die it couldn’t catch me now. But then I remembered the lessons I had learned. And I sat still and watched it die. And once I was sure it was dead, I crawled back and pulled my knife out of its eye. And I left the tunnel and headed for the forest. I’ve already told you the rest.”

  There was a long pause. Miriam sensed the crowd savoring the story, a sweet dose of revenge to follow the bitter taste of the Wyelin Slaughter. Finally, Derrick broke the silence, “You are promoted to Fifth Class.”

  Conners looked closely at Aaron. “To what rank do you aspire tonight?”

  “Ninth Class,” Aaron answered without hesitation. Ninth Class was the highest rank of the Corvale warrior society. It required a great deed in warfare. It was rare.

  “Are you prepared to justify this rank?” Conners spoke carefully. “We don’t bestow it lightly. We’re glad to have you here. We’re grateful for your return. But we don’t know you so well as to easily make this decision. Survival alone is not enough.”

  “I can make my case. I won’t view it as a slight if the council needs time to decide. The rank is earned,” Aaron said.

  After receiving a nod from Conners, Derrick asked formally, “What merits you for promotion to Ninth Class?”

  “At the S’Rghat Prison in the western Ashlands I killed twenty-two Chalk personally. My actions led to the deaths of over three hundred. We escaped with fifty-two prisoners, mostly of the Corvale and Vylass tribes. The prison was destroyed.”

  Miriam leaned forward. While she would have hoped to learn more about the dragons, the story of the S’Rghat Prison was one of the pillars of Aaron’s reputation in Delhonne. But she was never certain of its accuracy. Even the disciplined Corvale loved to mix fact and fiction.

  “Tell us,” Conners said.

  “It was late Fall five years ago. Cal Mast and I were hunting Chalk. We traveled with a large splinter of the Vylass tribe in the southwestern Ashlands. The Vylass had secured a deal with the Steward of Camron, bordering the Ashlands to the west. He was paying gold for every Chalk killed, either in Camron or in the Ashlands. He wanted them pushed back from the border. They were getting more aggressive with raids that were swallowing up isolated herding communities. We were there in part to satisfy our curiosity about this behavior. The Chalk are rarely so organized. I wanted to see it for myself.

  “It was hot and dry during the days. The southwestern part of the Ashlands is arid and dusty. There’s almost no plant life, just the occasional twisted and barren tree that looks like a leftover from an older time. The ground is covered in a grey sandy ash. Sandstorms are frequent. They blot out the sun and churn up the ash. Getting caught unprepared in a sandstorm can mean death. The ash creates great piles over anything above the ground, burying it. The piles eventually get swept onwards, leaving the bones of suffocated beasts and men behind. At night it grew cold. We would gather by the fires with the Vylass and tell stories, brag, smoke, drink. They were good people.

  “We hunted o
n horseback. Most of the Chalk we encountered were in small groups of three or four and fought us to the death once they spotted us. They would charge us no matter the numbers. We learned quickly it was better to meet them unmounted. They attacked man and horse with the same fury. Easier to meet them on the ground. The Chalk are predictable fighters. Angry, impatient. Usually their first swing is wide and strong, easy to avoid and counter.”

  Aaron drew his sword and demonstrated first a wide attack and then two parry and counterstroke combinations. He showed the series to the crowd fast, then slow, then fast again. Miriam saw some of the warriors lightly flexing their muscles, teaching themselves the sequence.

  “Cal and I gave our kills to the Vylass. They collected the right thumbs to show the Steward as proof. It kept them happy.

  “A couple weeks before we first saw S’Rghat Prison we ran into our first organized group. There were fifteen Chalk, and they had prisoners from a herding town across the border of Camron. The prisoners were tied into a chain with the silky white rope the Chalk use. It was tied to several Jerr hounds, who pulled the prisoners. There were about ten of them plodding along through the ash. We swept in and killed the Chalk and hounds, cut the prisoners loose. They didn’t have much in the way of information. They could only tell us where they were from, not where they were going. We sent them back.

  “We found another chain of prisoners a few weeks later. That night Cal and I sat down over a map and tried to figure out where the prisoners were being led, where the two different groups would have converged. We convinced the Vylass to travel there. It was there we found the place we named the S’Rghat Prison. It was visible from miles away, in the center of a flat, sandy stretch of ash. It was a domelike tent structure. Based on the number of Chalk and prisoners Cal and I saw enter over the next few days, a large part of the Prison was underground. We watched it for a week, trying to learn as much as we could about its layout, the mechanisms that ran the place, the guard positions, any weaknesses. The Vylass quickly lost interest in the prison. They wanted to intercept the chains of prisoners on their way there, but didn’t want to stay too close to the prison. Cal and I kept them informed about movements when we met in the evenings. And we hatched a plan.

  “One day a new chain of twelve prisoners showed up, heavily guarded as usual. We guessed there were already a good thirty prisoners under the dome. That put one piece of our plan into place. We watched the weather. The next day, the sky turned purple, a sign of an approaching sandstorm, another piece in place. We started moving. I bought ten pack camels from the Vylass, who were busily preparing shelter. I told them to descend on the Prison when the sandstorm had dissipated to collect some easy thumbs.

  “We took the camels to a deep cave about three miles from the prison, then tied them into a line. We marched them back out, as close to the prison as we could get without being seen. We lashed the line to a dead tree and threw blankets over the camels’ heads. We tied them on. They were in distress as we left even though the storm was still an hour or two away. They wanted shelter.

  “Cal and I arrived at the edge of the tent without being seen and cut our way in. Once inside, we split up. I sent Cal to free the prisoners while I headed to the lowest point of the prison, near the center. I knew that’s where I would find the fuel supplies. We had seen smoke rising from the tent in the moonlit nights. We knew they were burning coal for heat during the progressively colder nights. I was anticipating that they had stocked up for the coming winter.

  “I didn’t encounter any Chalk for the first five minutes or so. The halls between tented walls sloped downward, and soon I was underground. The first Chalk I came face-to-face with was unprepared for an encounter. I ran my blade through his heart and hid the body under the loose ash at the edges of the tunnels. After a few wrong turns and a few more Chalk dead and buried, I found what I was looking for.

  “There was a wide open chamber with an unusually high ceiling for being so deep underground. The ceiling had a big opening in the center, and under the opening was a huge fire pit for burning coal. It was day so the four Chalk standing around only had a small fire going. I saw the small tunnels radiating out from the pit, vents to carry heat through the structure. It was a crude furnace, unsophisticated but large enough to serve my purpose. I just needed to clear some space to work.

  “I killed the first two Chalk before the others knew what was happening. One of the others tried to run for help but I caught a leg with my blade and it fell. I ran the other through and then finished the runner.

  “I found a shovel and started in. I built a pile in the pit that nearly touched the opening. I threw every torch in the room on the pile and watched the blaze begin, counting on the smoke to completely overwhelm the chimney mechanism. I had to hope Cal was ready or the prisoners would suffocate when the Chalk fled the prison. I went to find them.

  “I got to our entry point before Cal did. I went down a few halls, trying to follow his path. I spotted the three or four Chalk he’d killed and pushed to the side. But the halls were filling with black smoke and I didn’t want to lose the exit. I went back and waited. Cal arrived with maybe sixty-five prisoners, way more than we expected. He said they were holding up well, that not all would survive the trek but it was worth a shot. I told him to get them ready. We were interrupted by more Chalk. They were frenzied because of the smoke and probably by now recognizing that several of theirs were missing. I killed three more, then handed one end of a rope to Cal, wrapped a shirt around my face, and ducked out of the tent, holding the other end of the rope.

  “By this time, the sandstorm had arrived at full intensity. The wind was screaming. It was impossible to see more than a few feet. The shirt kept the sand out of my eyes but it made the world black and blurry. No human could travel through the storm with any idea where they were going. But the camels could. I got my bearings and set out blindly to the west. After I’d gone twenty feet or so I felt the rope tug and knew that Cal and the prisoner chain was following. After about two hundred feet I was looking for the camels. I couldn’t find them at first but then I heard them, panicked, screaming. They had gotten twisted and the entire chain was facing the wrong way. I followed up the chain to the lead camel. I stopped with my back against him and started hauling the rope in. Cal eventually arrived.

  “We started grabbing prisoners and putting the ropes we had tied to the backs of the camels in their hands. We tried to space them out but it was chaos. There weren’t enough ropes so we had people hang on to the other prisoners who had a rope. Both Cal and I were yelling instructions that no one could hear until we were hoarse. Some of the smarter prisoners had protected their faces but others just kept their eyes closed. Then they would forget or panic and open them. More than a few had fallen, blinded. We threw the blankets on the camels over the people which only made the camels more panicked at the exposure. By the time we got everyone onto the chain we counted sixty-one left, though who knows if that number was even close to accurate.

  “I crawled my way back to the front to cut the rope tying the lead camel to the tree. There was a struggle. The camels at the rear had backed in the direction of the cave they remembered, shifting the chain so it was no longer pointed to the north away from the prison. When I released him, the lead camel set off north at the same time the whole line was moving that way. We were sideways for a minute or two. That probably cost us a few more lives, impossible to tell. Eventually the camel at the front established his lead and the line straightened out. The camels set off at a brutal pace, almost running. There was no chance for any Chalk to pursue in the sandstorm. But we were blind, relying on the camels to find their shelter.

  “I kept pulling down the lead’s head, but when I slowed him too much the camels behind him would run into him and push him. We could lose the whole line that way. I stopped trying to control him and let him go. I started dropping back to see where I could help the prisoners. Most were Vylass or Corvale and they did our people proud. Despite days o
r weeks of torture, starvation, and thirst, they still fought for their lives, clinging to the out of control mounts that were their only passage to safety. We helped where we could but you could barely see or hear anything.

  “Finally, after what felt like hours, I saw the black opening of the cave just a few feet ahead through the gloom. Cal was in the lead now, and he led the chain in. He drew his sword and went ahead of them to see if the cave had picked up any tenants. Predators and prey alike seek shelter in a sandstorm. I pushed the rest of the chain in. It had a large chamber and we were able to get everyone in. We had fifty-two.

  “The storm raged outside well past midday. By then we had killed and cooked two camels to feed the group. Water was dangerously scarce, but I was counting on a visit from the Vylass the next morning. We passed a quiet night, Cal and I standing guard, not trusting any of the prisoners to stay alert.

  “We got our visitors in the morning. The Vylass had waited until the sandstorm passed and rode immediately to S’Rghat. The Chalk had been unable to shelter in the prison filled with noxious smoke. Many of them had suffocated during the storm, buried in sand drifts and ash piles. But the majority were still out in the open, slowly recovering from the hours-long assault. They rose up, exhausted, from the ditches they had frantically dug for shelter while the storm raged all around them. When the surviving Chalk rose from the dust, weapons lost in the storm, they looked up to see a fresh, organized hunting party riding them down.

  “In the raid of the prison, I killed twenty-two Chalk. Cal killed seventeen. The Vylass collected three hundred and four sets of thumbs. Then they burned what little was left of the Prison. We rescued fifty-two prisoners and led them to the Camron border, placing them in the Steward’s custody.”