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

by Samuel Gately

  Cal studied the street while Aaron carefully removed and cleaned his sword. Together, they propped the man up to a position similar to that which he held earlier. His dead eyes watched the street. They turned their attention to the interior of the mansion.

  There were only two windows leading to the balcony, no doors. It created the appearance of a dark face. They chose the right eye, which was slightly ajar. Seeing no light inside, first Aaron then Cal lightly vaulted the window sill and moved to the sides of the window, preventing their silhouettes from showing themselves to the interior for longer than necessary.

  Cal immediately knew something was wrong with the house. He could tell by the way Aaron stiffened that he did too. There was almost no light, just the slight moonlight from the window and a soft, diluted glow from the rear of the house. The air felt wrong. There was too much of it. It felt as though they were still outside. There was no compression, no feeling of a confined space. Cal could only see a few feet, but the floor ahead of them blackened to nothingness. He and Aaron inched closer, senses buzzing with confusion and danger.

  Finally, Aaron decided to risk a light. He drew his blue everlight and held it over his head. It threw a faint ghostly light over the mansion’s interior. At least what was left of it.

  Cal’s breath caught, as it had when he first saw the dragons illuminated in the blue light. The floor was missing. And not just the second floor. The first floor too. An enormous hole had swallowed the interior of the mansion. It was as wide as the mansion, stopping just short of the walls, and ran back nearly half the length of the grand hall, where the floor began again. It ran straight down, deeper than they could see, far into the underbelly of Delhonne.

  Only the frame of the original mansion was intact. A man walking through the front door would have fallen into the earth after a step or two. On the second floor where Aaron and Cal were, there was only a few feet of jagged wooden floorboards attached to the wall, creating a landing outside the balcony. A ladder was propped just below them, leading down to the lip of the tunnel.

  The tunnel itself was roughly constructed. Broken boards surrounded it, looking as if a beast had emerged from the ground chewing. The interior walls of the tunnel were covered with a rough pattern of thick, silky white ropes. A net. A giant net which covered all the edges of the tunnel.

  Aaron and Cal exchanged a look in the blue light. They had seen these silky white ropes before, on the prisoners dragged through the Ashlands towards S’Rghat Prison, on Cal’s wrists while Zarus Coff mocked up the sounds of a crying baby. There was no doubt remaining that this was a Chalk threat at a large scale. They’d tunneled right into the heart of Delhonne.

  Aaron signaled to Cal to stay, then climbed down the ladder and inspected the tunnel. With Aaron next to it providing some scale against its madness, Cal estimated the opening to be about thirty feet straight across the center. Aaron studied the net and pulled on the ropes. He signaled for Cal to join him.

  Cal looked over the lip of the tunnel. The crisscrossing white rope pattern melted down into the darkness. No bottom was visible. They put their heads together.

  “We could bring dragons. Collapse the mansion over it,” Cal said.

  “Yeah, but we don’t know anything about it yet. It might not be just this one. And where is everyone? How long has this been here? Is this Carr?”

  Aaron rubbed at his pixie eye, thinking hard. “I’m going down. I want to see where this goes before they find us. We’re not going to find it this poorly guarded again. Stay at this level, find out what’s going on at the back of the house. Don’t let anyone out alive. Keep the exit open. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  Aaron grabbed a nearby rope and swung over the edge. He studied the net for a moment, then released the rope and began climbing down using the net. Cal watched the blue light descend for a moment. Then, in darkness, he made his way around the lip of the tunnel and towards the back of the house, where the faint light of a lamp was visible from under a door.

  Chapter 27. A Message for Grace

  Cal traversed the lip of the tunnel, sword drawn. He was struck by the similarities in layout between this mansion and the DeFlorre mansion. Excepting the tunnel, of course, which consumed most of the large entry hall. The grand staircase ran straight into the tunnel where it stopped short, cut off several steps above ground level. The floor was intact to either side of the staircase. To the left of the staircase was an unlit open passageway, presumably leading to the hosting areas, a dining room or study. The area to the right of the staircase had a single inconspicuous door for servants to come and go. Cal expected it led to the kitchen, maybe after a pantry or forward serving station. From under this door a light was visible.

  Cal tried the knob and gently opened the door. He waited for a moment. Sensing no reaction ahead of him, he eased himself into a forward serving station and closed the door behind him. The light was brighter, streaming through a partly open door on the other end of the small space. He heard movement from within. He drew closer to the door, counting on the darkness of the room he was in to hide him.

  He had a clear view of a kitchen. Someone was preparing food. From the looks of the man, he was not a servant or experienced in the culinary arts. A small fire burned in the wood stove. The surly-looking man reached in and pulled out a few sad potatoes. He swore quietly as he burned himself on the hot food.

  Cal was sure he was looking at Pete Stephos, the one Sleepy Jon had followed to this house two nights ago. Cal had never seen him before, but Jon had described him. Short hair, sharp chin, bloodshot eyes. Fine clothes that did not appear to fit his slim frame well. He wore no sword.

  As Pete cursed to himself, Cal considered entering the room to grab him, see what he knew. But something stopped him short. There was a feeling in the room. A coldness, a stillness. Then Pete looked over his shoulder, unease on his face. Cal shifted to see farther into the room. Two Chalk stood at attention on either side of a door at the back of the large kitchen.

  Pete laughed nervously and spoke to the Chalk, “You sure you don’t want any?” There was no reply. He added some salt, then loaded two plates and grabbed two sets of knives and forks. He held his lamp under his arm, and, fully laden, made his way to the door at the back. He slid between the Chalk. Cal saw stairs before the door closed behind him. The Chalk were left with just the dim light of the fire in the oven that Pete had left open. The Chalk made no move to produce a light or shift from their position at the door.

  Cal was definitely getting up that staircase. The second plate Pete had loaded had confirmed that decision. He assumed it was Grace up there, but he wanted to find out. He studied the Chalk guards. Aaron and he had dealt with Chalk guards many times. They were eerily disciplined, never leaving their posts. Their attention never wandered. And they never so much as shifted their stance, which sometimes made them difficult to spot. But they brought serious flaws in this role. They were fearless, meaning they exercised almost no caution. And their first instinct when confronted was to attack in a quiet, blind rage. They rarely bothered raising an alarm.

  Cal banged his sword hilt hard on the buffet table, setting plates and silverware rattling. The loud sound in the small space made him wince. Both Chalk immediately raised their knives and advanced. They were halfway across the kitchen, on opposite sides of the long table, when Cal leapt through the door.

  When fighting two, it helped to take out the first quickly, use what advantage of surprise was available. Cal was particular to attracting his prey, then meeting them on their way to where they thought he was. It always seemed to catch them less than fully prepared. When a guard hears a noise, he tenses up for attack. Then he moves towards the noise, tensing for attack as he arrives at the place he suspects the invader is. They always seemed to lose a step if you attack them in the middle ground. The fact that the Chalk had divided across the table made it easier.

  He reached the closer Chalk, who delivered an overhanded blow. Cal dodged it easily and
ran him through. He hacked at the Chalk’s neck with his dagger as he pulled the sword out. To his right, the other Chalk was slow in turning to face Cal. Neither had made any noise yet. Cal and the Chalk looked at each other across the table. The Chalk, with no change in expression, moved directly towards Cal, stepping first on the bench that rested on his side of the long table, then stepping on the table itself. Cal kept the lower ground and moved closer to the table, sweeping the Chalk’s legs out with a hard backhand swing of his sword. Moments later his dagger drove into the neck of the sprawled out Chalk.

  Cal cursed under his breath. That last exchange had not been quiet. He debated moving the bodies but decided to save the time. There was not much hope that he could hide his presence in this house much longer. He moved quickly to the door at the back, opened it, and slid up the dark staircase.

  As he ascended, the memories of three nights ago came back to him. Then he had been going down a dark servants’ staircase, his only worry an angry father or jilted lover, excited at the prospect of seeing his long-lost friend. Now Cal headed up, said long-lost friend was in the hidden tunnel dug by the Chalk, and dead bodies were piling up behind Cal. He was climbing towards what would surely not be a warm welcome from a man who wanted him dead.

  Cal had the advantage of darkness as he approached the door at the top of the stairs. There was light from under the door, probably Pete’s lamp. The door was firmly closed, not surprising. Pete would want to be sure to leave that barrier between him and the Chalk.

  Cal guessed that the door was locked. This was the servants’ direct access to the master suite so it would have a lock in the interior. He imagined Pete and the Viscount Gerald Grace dining on their poorly cooked potatoes, either sitting on the bed or at some table they had scrounged up. It was becoming clearer that the Chalk were running this show. Cal leaned in to see if he could hear what was being said.

  The first voice he heard was unmistakably that of Grace. “You didn’t hear anything?” Grace was asking Pete. “I swear I heard something. What are they doing down there?”

  “I didn’t see much when I was down there. They’re probably just tearing down more of your house,” Pete said.

  “Watch yourself,” Grace replied. “I don’t long for your company so much that I won’t tell them to throw you into that hole.”

  “I don’t know if they’d listen to you anymore on that one. We seem to be less and less in the game these days.” There was a long pause. “At least we’ve got plenty of gold, if we can get out of here.” There was another long pause.

  Cal gritted his teeth, willing Grace to start spilling. Cal had little time left, he had to get back to Aaron, he had to keep the exit open, and he was badly out of position to do so. But the silence from the other room carried on. Grace was not taking Pete’s bait.

  Cal debated his options. He could turn and leave. He could kill both of them. He could kill Pete and tie up Grace. On Aaron’s return they could come back and get him. They might have to leave him, but then he would confirm without a doubt that Cal had been in the house. The heat on him would increase, if that was possible. He guessed it didn’t matter if he and Aaron were fingered. Who else would break into Grace’s house looking for Gelden Carr and leaving behind a stack of dead guards?

  Cal decided to try the door and decide once he saw what was on the other side. He was not particularly worried about them raising the alarm. It sounded like they carried little weight in this situation. And they were pretty much as far away from the tunnel and the street as possible. There may be more Chalk in the house, but Cal hadn’t seen any signs.

  He firmly turned the knob. It was unlocked. He pushed the door, but it immediately made a loud rattle and stopped. It was deadbolted on the other side.

  “Who’s there?” Grace asked. The panic in his voice was evident. “I told you to stay away from me.” After Cal provided no response, he continued, “Why are you keeping us here? Tell Carr I must speak with him.” The desperate veneer on Grace’s voice reminded Cal of the imbalance he’d previously noted in the cocky, abrasive noble. This man was not of sound mind.

  Cal pushed the door twice more, enjoying the loud rattling noise and the effect it seemed to be having on Grace. He needed to leave if he couldn’t get the door open easily, but he liked the idea of sending a message to the Viscount, the man who, along with Stephos, had probably been involved in planning the attack of last night that left a handful of their allies dead.

  Cal drew the small knife he kept on his thigh. Studying the door to find the thinnest part, the center of the upper panel, he drove the blade in hard. It stuck fast. Grace screamed on the other side of the door. He would find the knife still sticking out of the door later when he finally gained the courage to emerge. Or more likely he would make Pete do it.

  Cal turned and descended back down the staircase. The kitchen was as he left it. So was the main room and the tunnel. No sign of Aaron, not even the blue light, deep in the tunnel. Cal looked around nervously and sat down in the shadows to wait.

  Chapter 28. Deeper Than Anticipated

  Aaron descended deep under the mansion, scaling down the white net into the darkness of the tunnel. His blue light hung from his belt, giving him just enough visibility to see the ropes ahead and below him. He was painfully aware of how clearly the light advertised his presence to anyone or anything else in the tunnel.

  The tunnel was a perfect vertical. He’d now descended for a couple minutes. The opening above was still visible, a slightly lighter patch in the darkness.

  Aaron had previously noted the silence of the mansion above. As he descended, it grew greater. Soon his own breath, slowly growing more ragged as he drew himself downwards, was the only sound. It bounced off the walls of dirt and rock in the narrow tunnel throat.

  The net he climbed looked like it had been built by Chalk who had seen a net, but didn’t really grasp the basic concept of interwoven ropes. There was little pattern to the knots and intersections other than that some ropes ran horizontally and some ran vertically. It was not fully anchored at the top, but seemed as though someone had come through and anchored some of the looser bundles of rope throughout by driving large spikes into the dirt and knotting it around them. It was mostly completed around three-quarters of the tunnel walls. One portion of it was just dangling ropes. It was a mess, making for a difficult climb. Some ropes held Aaron’s weight well, but others slid down several feet when he put his weight on them.

  Also, the ropes were not of any uniform thickness. Most were about as thick as Aaron’s wrist, which was far thicker than they needed to be for climbing. Some, particularly on what he thought was the northern side of the walls, were almost as thick as his thighs. The disarray and lack of uniformity was unsettling. The whole thing looked like a collapsed, poorly designed spider’s web.

  As Aaron descended deeper into the darkness, muscles starting to ache with the strain, he thought through the significance of the tunnel. Based on its scale, it was designed to move a tremendous amount of traffic. But to what end? Smuggling? Invasion? He guessed if he followed the tunnel to the end, it would come out somewhere just outside the city walls. The closest city wall would be to the east. But why build the tunnel so vertically? Aaron had seen the delicate slopes of the tunnels the Chalk built in the S’Rghat Prison. This was so much rawer, simpler. It spoke of haste, of blunt decisions. It was a military tool. Aaron was certain he was looking at a fully realized invasion plot that was dangerously close to success. All they needed to do was march an army in, amass in the deserted Lower Sweeps, and slaughter all of Delhonne. It would be Wyelin all over again.

  Aaron was lost in thought and nearly missed an opening in the other side of the tunnel wall. The hanging ropes parted around a hole in the wall a little larger than a typical door. Aaron studied it more closely. He realized there was a second hole a few feet to the right. He slid around the walls, hauling himself from rope to rope.

  When he reached the first opening, he shone hi
s light in but saw nothing. He planted his feet on the lip of the opening and hauled himself in. It ran back a short distance, more of a cave than a tunnel. He supposed they had taken advantage of the natural opening to build…what? A rest area? A forward base?

  He slid in. Only a short path separated the first opening from the second. Split out from them, like the leg of a Y, was a path that led deeper into the cave. Aaron followed the path. It opened into a large room. There was no light and Aaron detected no movement, though he drew his sword when he saw there was enough space to swing it if needed. He raised the blue light. It shone around the room, which held little of interest other than a stack of crates near the entryway.

  The crates were full of knives, the long, blunt, rusty knives favored by the Chalk. Aaron stared at the weapons for a full minute, not understanding why they were here. Then he got it. The Chalk carried almost nothing. They never had money, or food, or water. They carried knives, but never wore scabbards or belts. An army of Chalk was coming. They would come through the tunnel. They would climb up the net. They would come in one of the openings. They would be handed a knife. Then they would leave out of the other opening and climb up the rest of the way, the knife held in their teeth.

  There were thousands of knives. Aaron thought of thousands of Chalk crawling up every side of the tunnel, knives in their teeth, while Delhonne slept. He turned to leave. He was running out of time.

  He neared the first opening in just a few short steps, but cursed as he saw light out in the main tunnel. He quickly shoved his blue light into a pocket, hoping it hadn’t been seen. His sword was still out. Aaron studied the light as it danced off the wall across from him. It was torchlight. And it was getting brighter.

  Now Aaron heard shuffling from below. It grew louder, something large coming up the net. Or a group? He quietly knelt down low. At least in his position he had two exits. If he retreated to the storeroom he would have only one.

  Aaron realized what was going to pass him a moment before he saw the dragon. He saw claws first, grabbing clumsily at the thickest of the ropes. Then the dragon dragged its head and torso into his view. It was on the opposite wall, eyes fixed upward. The dragon was chalked around the eyes and nose. Three Chalk climbed up just behind and to the sides of it, one bearing a bright torch.