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

by Samuel Gately

  “At first your return seemed untimely for me, but ultimately, as with everything else, I turned it to my advantage. You provided a distraction for the city to concern itself with these past couple days. It removed focus from what was important, that your Tannes eastern guard has been completely relocated for more than a week. Your Senators were easy to bribe, they question little when they are paid not to. Your army is soft and confused, weakened by peacetime. It was easy for me to create a path to your doorstep. Thousands of S’Kuhr’Mar march along this path as we speak, led by the Awakened Ulsor Vinn. He is not of my level, but closer to that of Zarus Coff’s.

  “Zarus Coff’s death at the hand of your lieutenant is my only regret. Zarus Coff should be watching the tunnel. The only reason I am close enough to greet you in person is that he was slain.

  “The S’Kuhr’Mar army marches from the southeast. That is the reason I could not allow your dragons to fly south of Delhonne. That is the reason for the attack last night, though Grace failed me once again. You were a threat. You alone had the opportunity to see what everyone else failed to. My army has nearly arrived.

  “Even now, I have taken steps to eliminate that threat. While you are here, dragons have been dispatched to destroy the stables in which your friends cower. They are surely dead by now. Last night’s failed attack was organized by Gerald Grace. I had a hand in tonight’s. I almost wish you could see their destruction, but you have to bear witness to other things.

  “My latest reports are that the S’Kuhr’Mar army will arrive tomorrow night. Several hundred will march directly to the eastern gate. Your city will panic. The pathetic, disorganized soldiers will all swarm to the place they believe they must defend, to the east gate. The cowardly citizens will hide in their homes. The rest of my army, the greater part, will march under the walls and up into the Lower Sweeps. We will crush your pathetic defenses from the inside. We will devour the second largest city on this continent in less than a day. We have no interest in loot. We will kill everything alive then burn the entire city to the ground.”

  Aaron was panting, trying to feel something beyond blank despair. It would play out as Carr described. Delhonne was completely unprepared. Everyone above would die.

  “I do not have the time to paint you, though I should. That I have taken this much time to speak with you honors you. I honor you further, by having you bear witness to my triumph.”

  Carr gestured to a Chalk behind Aaron. “You. Take him to the base of the tunnel. I want him hung over the opening, so he can watch the thousands of S’Kuhr’Mar march by and begin the climb, to slaughter the children of Delhonne. Hang this light of his above him. Once you’ve secured him, cut him just enough so he bleeds out just as I arrive. If you do it so I am able to watch him bleed his last drops and take his last breath as I begin my ascent, I will give you a name.”

  The Chalk grabbed Aaron and, with the help of several others, began dragging him out of the room and back to the tunnel. Aaron opened his mouth to scream for the first time since he was a child, running for his life from the monsters who had caught his family in their jaws. All of his passion, fear, and rage ran against the white powder running through his veins and stopped, like a wave frozen. No sound emerged. He was limply hauled out of the chair, slumping into the arms of his captors.

  “Farewell, Aaron Lorne. I will see you one last time tomorrow.”

  Chapter 30. Up the Tunnel

  The Chalk hauled Aaron, legs dragging, down the tunnel. They made their way back to the net in time to see the group with the dragon nearing the bottom of the vertical shaft. Another three Chalk moved nervously around the dragon. The dragons tired rapidly, climbing up and down the net. They had already killed several of their handlers in irritation. This dragon was clearly exhausted, panting heavily as it clawed clumsily backwards down the thickest part of the net, still about fifty feet from the bottom.

  The Chalk who was to receive his name was eager to get Aaron into position. With the help of three others, he hauled Aaron up above the entryway to the horizontal part of the tunnel. They looped a few ropes around him to temporarily hold him in place. The Chalk tied his light above Aaron, and admired the way it cast a cold blue light on the net, the site of their approaching triumph. He grinned in satisfaction at his growing awareness of the world and his pending Awakening. He would tie this Corvale securely, then put a deep vertical cut on each of his thighs. This one was experienced in bleeding humans. He knew how to do so to keep the marked man alive just long enough to see his master tomorrow. The grin widened.

  …

  The dragon, now about thirty feet from the bottom, was not in a good mood. It was tired, sick, exhausted. The frustration it had felt since its capture and enslavement gained no traction with the dulling effect of the chalk. But the exertion of dragging its bulk up and down the tunnel seemed to drive the fog of the chalk back. It gave the dragon just enough space to feel the fringes of a great reservoir of anger, a boiling ocean hidden over the next rise of the land. The dragon looked down as best it could as it lowered its claws towards another uncertain foothold.

  In these rare moments of clarity, the dragon experienced memories of the life it led before this dark period of enslavement. It recalled flying the mountains east of the plains. It remembered hunting with its packmates. It remembered seeing the odd structure near the Ashlands, a circular platform made of wood, a dead goat hanging above it. The dragon had landed to investigate but the platform gave way. Underneath was a pit, filled with white powder. As the dragon struggled, the powder soaked in, finding the gaps between its scales, filling its lungs. Soon it lay down, uninterested in moving, barely alive. The Chalk found it the next day when they came to check their trap. A long, blank period of slavery followed.

  As the dragon climbed down, something was bothering it about the net. The Chalk around the dragon moved with practiced swiftness, they had practically lived on the net for the past few weeks. But the net was moving unnaturally. There was something above them. As the dragon realized this, three rapid clicks sounded from just above his head. The dragon looked up. The rapidly descending point of a sword was the last thing it saw before being ushered to the freedom of death.

  …

  Cal, channeling the full weight of his falling body, drove thirty inches of steel deep into the right eye of the dragon, killing it instantly. As the sword penetrated, Cal crashed into the dragon’s neck, his legs straddling it. He released the hilt and leaned past the dragon to grab firmly at the net with both hands. He was able to get a secure grip. Good, he thought, because the next part would get messy.

  Life fled the dragon. There was a moment that was felt by every other creature in the tunnel, Cal, the numbed Aaron, the seven Chalk. Time seemed to stop. Even the flickering of the torches seemed to cease. None had seen the death of a dragon or even known if it was possible. A heaviness filled the air. Then it just as quickly vanished, and time seemed to begin again.

  The Chalk, shocked at the sudden turn of events, were slow to realize what Cal had out as he scouted the scene from above. The dead dragon was going to fall, and fall hard. The claws slackened with death and the giant bulk of the dragon was drawn downwards. The sharp scales lining the head and neck pulled at Cal’s pants and boots as it slid down. Then the dragon was gone, plummeting downwards.

  It gained speed as it fell. The nearest Chalk scampered to the side, just able to duck the passing bulk of the dragon. Another jumped to the other side, but then failed to secure the net, falling after the passing dragon. The third of the dragon’s escort, the one with the torch, was directly below it when the lifeless body fell. The Chalk was peeled off the wall by the dragon’s lower body. As the dragon slowly rotated, the Chalk fell below it. The rear of the dragon slammed into the ground moments later, the long body folding, the neck lashing out to hit the side of the tunnel then collapse to the ground. Three Chalk lay dead below it, unable to get out of the way.

  The Chalk who had jumped aside but lost his g
rip fell after the dragon. The bulk of the dragon might have broken his fall, but he was not so lucky and hit the tunnel floor next to the body, black blood exploding from his crushed skull.

  The highest Chalk, who had dodged the falling body, turned to look back to the human who had just killed his dragon. Cal’s boot caught him full in the face. The Chalk fell down onto the pile below, rolling off the dragon and crashing into the ground. His black blood added to the mix. Three Chalk lived, only faintly illuminated in the blue light. Two on the ground and one on the net next to Aaron, about twenty feet below Cal and another fifteen or so off the ground. Cal drew his dagger and readied himself for his second leap, this one even longer odds than the first.

  The Chalk near Aaron appeared hesitant as Cal sized up the distance. The Chalk was torn between defending itself from Cal or killing Aaron while it had the chance. Cal leapt before it decided. Time again seemed to slow as Cal fell towards the Chalk. The Chalk gripped Aaron’s shoulder with its left arm, preparing the right to fend off Cal. It would only need to make Cal miss, then he would fall to his death. Its knife was raised.

  At the last moment before impact, Cal saw Aaron rouse himself enough to fling a hand out from under the ropes. It dug into the Chalk’s eye. The Chalk turned in rage but its concentration had been broken. Cal slammed into the Chalk, again leading with his blade. He drove the dagger deep into the neck of the Chalk, letting the body slow his momentum. He released his blade to let his enemy plummet as he held tightly to the net. Just as the body was sliding away with his dagger in its neck he remembered he held no more weapons. He grabbed at the Chalk’s knife, cutting his hand but just hanging on to it.

  Cal let out a deep breath. His head was swimming from the speed of the encounter. One of the Chalk below turned and ran back into the long tunnel. Soon they would have company. The other Chalk put his knife in his teeth and began climbing the net, on the opposite side of the tunnel.

  Cal looked to Aaron, who was struggling vainly with the ropes around him. Cal saw the white chalk marks on Aaron’s arm and knew he was fighting the influence of the vile substance. Cal hacked at the ropes, turning once to track the Chalk’s progress up the other side. It was much faster than Cal on the net, but still not far off the ground. Aaron freed himself and looked at Cal, confused. Cal grabbed his arm, wiped it against the net. He released it and pulled Aaron’s face to his. “Climb,” Cal said firmly. He grabbed Aaron’s blue light and tucked it in his belt.

  They both started up the net. The Chalk climbed up the other side, lower but gaining. Cal watched Aaron closely as they climbed. Aaron continued to rub away the remnants of the chalk on his arm. Some of the effects seemed to be wearing off, helped by the exertion of climbing. Aaron was breathing heavily, muscles clearly aching.

  Cal was panting as well. His climb down had been slow and tedious. He had been watching the tunnel from the mansion when the rising torchlight alerted him that something had gotten between Aaron and the exit. He went back up the ladder to hide on the balcony as they surfaced, three Chalk and the dragon. They rested for a long time, the Chalk nervously monitoring the dragon’s recovery. The Chalk had removed the rope from the dragon’s neck and hung them on a large nail-like pole near the lip of the tunnel.

  When they finally roused themselves and headed back down the tunnel, Cal had taken one last breath of the sweet outdoor air of the balcony, then had come back in to slowly follow their descent. He had kept a good distance, unsure of how easy it was for them to detect movement on the net.

  As they neared the bottom, it was the appearance of Aaron’s blue light that had clarified the situation to Cal. He had sped up to get closer to the group. Leaning back on the net, he had looked down to see a complicated game board. The dragon, the Chalk with torches, the horizontal tunnel opening, Aaron being strung up, the blue light above him, a Chalk with a knife looking ready to cut. Cal had rolled the dice and decided that, first things first, he would kill the dragon.

  Now, as they raced up the net, Aaron’s blue light no longer reached the bottom of the tunnel. It shone on the web-like net above and below them and the Chalk pacing them on the other side, now slightly above the pair. As Cal glanced below, he saw torches at the bottom of the tunnel. Pursuit was on its way.

  They neared the two man-sized openings in the walls of the tunnel. Aaron grunted and gestured with his head. They adjusted their course to reach the black holes. The Chalk watched the two men. Aaron reached the opening and straightened, making his way back to the storeroom. For a long moment, Cal watched the Chalk, waiting, who stared back at him, motionless in the darkness. Then Aaron returned. With a dull clanking noise, Aaron dropped an armful of knives near the entrance.

  Cal smiled, taking a moment to choose his first knife. He hefted it, a smile on his face, feeling the weight. Sometimes one needed to pay attention to the little things. He gripped the net tightly, then threw the knife as hard as he could at the Chalk. He missed, but Aaron’s first throw glanced off the Chalk. Each threw again. After their second throws, the Chalk was bloodied and was trying to scamper up the net to get out of range. Cal’s third throw took him in the hand, and as he pulled it back and then scrambled for a fresh hold, the Chalk fell down the tunnel, white body disappearing as it left the light. Aaron gestured for Cal to clear the entryway, tucked the knife he had been ready to throw in his belt, and kicked the rest of the pile over the edge. They clattered down the tunnel, off to create mischief for the Chalk following them up the net.

  “Let’s go,” Aaron said, his color returning. “Carr already attacked the stables, and when he hears of my escape he’ll send more.”

  They resumed the climb. A few minutes later they surfaced. The men stood next to the tunnel, hands on knees, catching their breath. The mansion seemed impossibly quiet after the chaos below them.

  “Grace?” Aaron asked.

  “In the back,” Cal replied, “or at least he was a half hour ago.”

  “Alive?” When Cal nodded, Aaron said, “You’re slipping.”

  Cal leaned over and spat down the tunnel. “No, I’m not.”

  “Okay. Okay. Fair enough. But no time to deal with Grace. He lives another day.”

  They left by the front door, racing ahead of the rising clamor of Chalk climbing the net.

  Chapter 31. A Long Walk Home

  The air of the deserted Lower Sweeps was refreshing after the stale smell of the tunnel and the Chalk that inhabited it. Cal and Aaron ran northwest out of the Lower Sweeps. It was close to midnight. Dry lightning crackled in the distance.

  The men did not speak as they ran on tired legs. Both carried only the long rusty Chalk knives. Cal was thinking of his men he had left at the stables. Erik, Kellen, James, Stricks. Sleepy Jon. Aaron was thinking of the Delhonne Corvale, the children from the meeting. Both were trying not to think of what lay deep under the ground beneath their feet. There did not appear to be pursuit, as they looked back from partway up Market Slope, but the pair didn’t slow. As they crested the hill near the Palace, the smoke rising from the stables became visible. They exchanged a grim glance and continued running.

  Finally, they reached the street of the Rosetta Stables. There was a cluster of men fighting at the gates of the stables. The barn was on fire. There were no dragons in the air.

  Aaron and Cal raced towards the gates. Several Corvale warriors, led by Derrick Issale, were killing the few remaining fighters, more mercenaries wearing black and red. There were bodies piled all around but, Aaron noted with relief, no dead Corvale. Aaron greeted Derrick.

  “Went down pretty close to how you said,” Derrick reported, “they sent some dragons after the barn, dropped some oil on it, lit it, then sent a bunch of assassins in, attacked the gate with a separate force.”

  “Thanks for being here.”

  Derrick nodded. The Corvale warriors were a proud bunch. While it was strange taking direction from this newcomer, the Corvale had earned many kills tonight and would not have missed the party. The Co
rvale reinforcements had waited in a nearby abandoned house. Aaron had predicted this time the attack would include an assault on the front gate. It had been easy to cut down the twenty or so men who had arrived, expecting to find a single distracted exterior guard. They had found nothing on arrival but a reinforced gate. Before they could even make an attempt to breach the walls, they were driven against them by a force of well-prepared Corvale warriors. None had survived. But the attack had raged on the interior until a few moments ago.

  Cal banged on the gate three times. After a long silence, broken only by the sounds of the flames feasting on the dry barn, Jon’s voice was heard, “Cal?”

  Cal replied, “Yeah, let us in.”

  Jon opened the gate. His thick profile drooped with exhaustion. His purple hat was covered in soot, the point of his bloody sword nearly dragging on the ground. “It didn’t go particularly well in here. The fire is spreading to the stables. We need to move.”

  “How many did we lose?” Aaron asked.

  “At least seven. Including Vander. And Dan.”

  “I thought Dan was supposed to leave before sundown.”

  “He refused. He at least sent the stable boys home though.”

  Aaron stepped inside the gate and looked at the carnage. There were bodies scattered throughout, and the flames had engulfed the entire barn. Under the cover of darkness, Sleepy Jon had moved the dragons to the long stables on the side of the compound at Aaron’s instruction. They had correctly anticipated that the attack would focus on the barn again. But there had still been the payload of assassins to deal with. This time they were a little better prepared than the night before.

  Aaron looked up at the sky. It was quiet now. Jon stood to his left. On his right, Cal was examining corpses. Seeing Dan’s body, he stopped and leaned down to close Dan’s eyes and gently fold his arms across his chest. Cal walked back to Jon and Aaron, his face bleak.