The Night of the Scattering
Chapter 18. Catching Up
Aaron returned to Rosetta Stables at dawn. Cal’s man Erik had the front gate watch. He told Aaron that Sleepy Jon had wanted to be informed when he arrived. Aaron had him send one of the stable boys to the kennel. Aaron went straight to the two dragons still in the central barn. He checked on the wounded one. It was healing well, but probably wouldn’t be ready for flight for at least a few days.
Dan, the stable master, was up and about, making sure the dragons had water and food. The dragons treated the food, a mixture of oats and meat, with their customary indifference. They only took pleasure in the food they were allowed to hunt. Aaron waved for Dan to join him up in the loft. Cal had set up a table in what they were calling the War Room. The table had a clean silver washbowl on it. It was otherwise cluttered with maps, stacks of invitations, and the remnants of a few meals.
Aaron poured himself a drink, wearily eyeing the bedroll in the corner. He’d get some sleep as soon as he’d set the day’s orders. He offered a drink to Dan, who nervously declined. They discussed the dragons for ten minutes or so, Aaron checking to make sure Dan had what he needed. Dan had some thoughts on improving the rope harnesses they were using as saddles. Aaron gave him some gold for supplies and asked him to try a few ideas out, assuming the dragons would tolerate a couple of fittings. The horses Cal’s men had brought over from his house were acclimating fairly well and the dragons had quickly learned to ignore them.
When Dan left, Aaron called Vander over. Vander happily accepted a drink and updated Aaron on the improved defenses of the stables. Yesterday’s workmen had strengthened the wooden walls and reinforced the gate. The stables would be vulnerable from the air, there was little that could be done there, but they had a good guard rotation established with trustworthy men in place. Aaron told Vander to keep his eyes on the sky and let him know when Cal arrived.
Sleepy Jon arrived, gently ushering in his wide-eyed young son Kevin. They let Kevin sit near the sleeping dragons as Sleepy Jon relayed the events of last night to Aaron, from his visit to Ty Cullmore to his trip to the guarded mansion in the Lower Sweeps. As Sleepy Jon walked through his night, Aaron tinkered with a Talent board, randomly scattering and straightening the pieces.
Aaron asked a few questions, then told Jon to get some sleep and return about an hour after nightfall. He had made the same invitation to Miriam and Conners. Hopefully Cal would return well before then, maybe with the Dura Mati, and they could all confer.
When Jon left, Aaron racked his tired brain for other loose ends to wrap up. He checked his weapons, pondered walking the perimeter but gave up that idea. Finally he turned to the item he had been avoiding. One end of the long table was covered in invitations for Aaron and Cal of varying degrees of urgency and insistence. The idea that he could bring something as exotic and dangerous as dragons into the city and keep everyone out was a fantasy. He could prepare for the enemies that would come over the walls in force. It was harder to argue with the enemies who would just claim they owned the walls and everything in them.
Aaron paged through the invitations, seeing at least one from every major family, several branches of the city government, the state government, the Palace. The government requests were at least informative. Every government representative felt the need to extensively explain the role of their office and why they were due Aaron’s attention before anyone else. There was drama embedded in each note, the authors vividly painting an image of a Delhonne in which they alone sat atop the complicated mechanisms that kept the city humming. There was a fair amount of proactive undercutting of the competition, even members of the same government branch or office. It could have kept a scholar up late several nights. Aaron did his best to extract some understanding of the whole mess from the lies in each letter. It was not easy.
There were also plenty of requests for interviews from newsmen. News in Delhonne was rarely printed, the cost of paper high this far east. The newsmen relied on a network of young men who gathered to learn the stories of the day and then visited all manner of local halls, businesses, and estates to share them with those who had coin. The newsmen universally adopted a tone of entitlement in their requests for interviews and access. Aaron suspected they were used to dealing with people who craved publicity. They were confused by his disinterest. Some had already pursued more aggressive strategies than letters. The guards had caught one of them scaling the stable wall. It was hard to tell the news with a broken jaw, and the others seemed to have backed off.
The whole thing was overwhelming for someone who had spent the past several years in relative wilderness. Aaron realized he needed Cal and maybe Conners to craft a real strategy. He put down his glass and the half empty bottle and slid into the bedroll in the corner. In the only dream he had, he was shuffling a deck of cards while falling to the earth from high above Delhonne. His hands were covered in chalk.
Chapter 19. The Water and the Dragons
A fist banging on the side of the barn woke Aaron. He raised his head and looked blearily across the barn, crisscrossed with late day beams of red sun that crept through the cracks. Vander waved from the door and called out, “Cal.”
Aaron made his way outside and looked up, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. Cal was circling for a landing, two dragons trailing just above his. A large shape that could only be the Dura Mati was astride another dragon and a final fifth dragon trailed the group. The red sun glared in the watchers’ eyes as the dragons circled, dropping lower at each rotation.
Aaron breathed a sigh of relief as Cal’s mount finally sank to the ground. He had been concerned sending Cal out alone. And the Dura Mati’s mission had been extremely dangerous. He had violated his exile and could easily have been killed by the other minotaur of his village. There were now six healthy dragons at the stables with one other on the mend. With the dozen or so fighting men they were not a group to be trifled with.
Cal slid off the dragon and approached Aaron. He looked terrible. His shirt was unlaced, revealing bloody makeshift bandages on his chest and in his left armpit. He was clearly exhausted.
“Trouble?” Aaron asked.
Cal grunted and moved past him to the barn. Aaron gestured to Dan to take care of the dragons and went to greet the Dura Mati, who leapt off his dragon and landed hard on his feet in a typical showy style. His war hammer was in hand and, Aaron noticed, was stained with chalk on its business end. Seemed the trouble had been significant.
“Welcome, my friend,” Aaron said. “I hope your visit went well.”
The Dura Mati looked him over disdainfully and snorted loudly. He also headed for the barn.
Aaron sighed. He was the one who had just woken up, he should be the one in a foul mood. He stood in the courtyard for a moment, feeling the sun on his face. It was a rare pleasure in recent days. He turned to follow his companions.
Cal had already located the whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink at the long table. He sat slumped, having pulled off his shirt and the bloody bandages from his chest. The wounds were ugly, but did not reopen. The Dura Mati had found a corner to sit in. Cal stared morosely at his glass. When Aaron sat near him, Cal raised his head and made a pouring gesture. Aaron waved his hand to decline. They had their days and nights reversed.
Aaron sat silently, waiting for Cal to begin.
“There were three Chalk, three dragons. I think they must have followed me from Delhonne. Seems they were after you, at least that’s what the leader said. His name was Zarus Coff. He mentioned another name, Gelden Carr, like he worked for him. Only a wonderfully timed intervention from our dear blue friend there kept me alive. The Chalk had set a trap with the sounds of a crying baby. I walked into it like one.” Cal paused and finished his drink, pouring another. His pride still stung. “I found their dragons. That part did not go well.”
…
Cal had waited until the sun came up to try and track the trail. In the meantime, he re
turned to his original campsite to check on his and the Dura Mati’s dragons. Back at the Chalk’s fire, he was able to detect a few telltale white marks leading off through the undergrowth. Neither he nor the disinterested Dura Mati were particularly good trackers, but the Chalk had not been interested in stealth. They had counted on the darkness to hide them. Cal and the Dura Mati followed the trail. It went for almost a mile, taking them to the north side of the small forest. Cal saw their dragons from the edge of the trees, the three large shapes spread out on the ground. He waved the Dura Mati down and approached stealthily, uncertain if they had additional guards and how the three dragons would react to his presence. He saw no other Chalk.
Each of the three dragons was chained to a separate large tree. Cal carefully studied the closest. It looked similar to those in his camp, except for the thick coating of white chalk around its eyes and down the snout. The white chalk appeared to have stained the dark grey, nearly black scales into a much lighter color. It looked like it had been applied regularly for a long time. A thick chain was linked to an iron cuff around the dragon’s rear left leg, the other end wrapped around a large, branchless white tree and locked into place with a heavy pin.
The presence of chalk was intriguing. Cal was more familiar than most with the effects of the chalk. Adding to his most recent experience, he had seen the results of the experiments the Chalk conducted in S’Rghat Prison. As best he could tell, the substance had some sort of spirit dampening effect. It made one sad and hopeless. He and Aaron suspected the Chalk used it to control prisoners, the Jerr hounds, and maybe each other. It was not clear if the chalk emanated from the actual creatures or if it was some unnatural substance from deep in the Ashlands. Cal knew to avoid it, to get it off of him quickly, and to count on either naked aggression or numb despair from anyone inflicted with it.
It appeared they were using it to control the dragons. Maybe the dragons naturally hated the Chalk and the creatures had figured a way to overcome that. Maybe it broke their spirits and made them easier to direct.
Cal had to see what could be done with the dragons. If the white chalk had made them into willing servants of those evil bastards, maybe removing it could reverse things. He rose to a full stance in front of the nearest dragon. The dragon, which had previously been ignoring his presence, rose to its feet, and bellowed in rage. The other dragons, hearing the mighty roar, also rose to their feet, enraged. The nearest dragon snapped at Cal, falling well short, and pulled hard at the chain, testing its limits. Unable to escape it to get at him, the dragon settled for staring at Cal, growling low in its throat. Not a promising start.
Cal removed his shirt, showing his marks to the dragon. It had no effect. He spoke to them. Nothing. He thought of what Zarus Coff had said, that he would show Cal’s head to his dragons, that they would follow him because of his strength. Cal had no interest in retrieving Coff’s head. Plus he doubted it would work. The creature had enslaved his dragons, not allied with them as Aaron had.
Cal tried a few other methods to soften the stained dragons, but none had any success. They were clearly enraged and bloodthirsty, only the chains preventing them from attacking. Cal thought through his options. The chains were secure. He could leave them. That would likely mean their death by starvation, or at least maiming if they resorted to chewing off their legs. Or some other Chalk might have this location and return to free them. He could kill them, probably would need the help of his own dragons, but he didn’t like the idea of killing these beautiful, dark creatures, even corrupted as they were. And especially while chained to a tree. He could set them free and chase them off, but they might just return to the enemy. He thought briefly of letting them go and then following them, but that was fraught with peril. And he was just too tired to pull off a move like that. His charge had been to return with the Dura Mati. Things were looking up, but he hadn’t accomplished that yet.
He could feel time slipping away from him. The sun had not been up long, but the day was going fast. Cal closed his eyes for a moment, visualizing a Talent board in front of him. One of the values of the game was that it taught you to never assume your opponent would be standing still. When would Gelden Carr expect to hear back from his agents? Did he know they were dead? The memory of Coff came back, raising his bloody knife, gravel digging into Cal’s knees. Cal pictured another group of Chalk, leaving wherever they were hiding near Delhonne mounted on fresh dragons and headed this way. No time to waste.
Cal resolved to try and get the chalk off of the dragons and see what happened. They may lose their aggression. He headed back to the trees and then back to his camp, the Dura Mati padding behind him all the while. On the way, he told the Dura Mati his intentions and asked if he could use his dragons. He got no reply, as expected, but the silence told him he wouldn’t be interfered with.
Back at the camp, he walked around and touched each of the dragons. He did his best to try and communicate to the dragons what was going to happen, but it was more complicated than any communication they’d had. He tried to project calm, the only thing he could really do to limit the risk of a massacre when his dragons encountered the others.
Cal and the Dura Mati rode the dragons up and over the woods and landed about a hundred feet beyond the camp near a stream. With the two groups in plain sight of each other, every dragon on both sides was now hissing with violence. Cal ignored it and filled his water skin in the stream. He gripped it tightly around the neck and cut the spout to widen it. He left his group behind and approached the nearest of the stained dragons.
The dragon, as before, grew aggressive when he approached. It growled and pulled its head back into a striking position. It was not, however, anticipating a face full of water. The contents of Cal’s skin dripped down the eyes and snout, some of the white chalk running off. The beast stood perfectly still. Cal raced back to the stream and refilled his skin. When he returned the dragon remained motionless. He splashed another spout of water over its face, more effectively this time since it was still. No reaction, no movement. He ran back, this time the Dura Mati handing him a full skin. As he splashed this one on the dragon’s face, it was clear that the bulk of the chalk was coming off, though the scales beneath it were grey and faded. Then, just as he was starting to hope he was helping, the dragon went insane.
It lashed out at Cal. He leapt backwards, cursing himself for having gotten drawn too far in. Unable to reach him, the dragon roared and flipped on its back, thrashing wildly. It rolled back to its feet and rubbed its face painfully in the grass and dirt at its feet. Unsatisfied, it began banging its face on the ground. Cal watched, horrified. The dragon shuddered, spraying dark blood across the camp, and then turned and attacked the tree that was holding it. It bit and clawed frantically at the wood, leaving great rents in the white bark.
Cal retreated, determined to let the fit pass. It lasted for nearly ten minutes. The dragon attacked anything it could reach, roaring endlessly. It twisted its body until Cal was sure it would break the chained leg or strangle itself with the chain.
The throes finally slowed. Cal’s options had not changed much. These frenzies could be the dragon expelling the chalk from its system, maybe slipping out of whatever measure of control the chalk had over it. Or it could be the dragon’s efforts to cling to the darkness, anger at Cal for interfering with whatever war was going on inside it. He either had to destroy this weapon or free it and be responsible for whatever it did.
Since the dragon was calmer now, he decided to free it. If it attacked them they would kill it. After filling in the Dura Mati on his intentions, Cal mounted his dragon and had it charge along the ground to just outside the limits of the chain. The stained dragon, white still running down its dusty and battered face, reared to fight. The Dura Marti crept in behind and smashed the pin holding the chain bound around the tree. The chain fell to the ground. The dragon turned, but saw that the minotaur had two dragons behind him. It turned back to Cal to see the other two had arrived behind him. It w
as outnumbered five to one. It must have understood this on a primal level, even deeper than the rage and insanity with which it was struggling. It gave a final roar and took off into the air, dragging the long chain. Its flight was uneven but still carried it over the trees to the south. Cal was relieved it had not headed towards Delhonne.
Cal repeated his actions on the other two stained dragons with the same effects. It was a messy process which took several hours. It was exhausting and unrewarding. Though the Dura Mati seemed to take some pleasure in sneaking in and smashing the chains and standing face to face with the enraged dragons, he thought it was foolish to let the dragons go. He made it clear to Cal he thought it was a weak decision. For Cal, not certain himself that he was doing the right thing, it shaped up to be a long morning. He had forgotten about his wound in the excitement of the first dragon, but soon the blood ran freely down his chest and mixed with the dust in the air.
By the time they were finally ready to leave, Cal was reeling from the lack of sleep. The flight to Delhonne was long and frustrating. He raced the setting sun. Soon darkness would claim the skies over Delhonne, providing cover to their enemy. They arrived at the stables just as the red sun was setting.
Cal stubbed out his cigarette. “So what happened last night? How was the meet with the Corvale?”
Aaron filled him in on Sleepy Jon’s report first and then on the Corvale meeting. “It went better than I could have hoped. I’m putting a lot of trust in this Conners without knowing him well, but his priorities seem straight. He and Miriam will be here in a few hours. It might be a good idea to get some sleep. I’ll need your take on those two.”
Night of the Chalk (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 1) Page 12