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

by Samuel Gately

  “Where are we moving to, Jon?” Aaron asked.

  “We’re taking over a building in Ty Cullmore’s hood, the Ranges. I was there a couple nights ago. It’ll cost us but I already sent a runner to clear with him and his people. We can set the dragons up on the roof, assuming the injured one can fly that high.”

  Aaron nodded, lacking the strength to do much more. He moved to sheath his sword, then realized what he was holding was a dirty Chalk knife. He threw it to the ground in disgust.

  “Interesting choice of weapon,” Jon said, gesturing to knife of the ground, then the one Cal carried.

  “Gelden Carr’s got my sword. And Cal’s is buried in a dragon’s head at the bottom of a tunnel leading up to Grace’s mansion in the Lower Sweeps.” Aaron stared at the sky. “There’s a Chalk army approaching, poised to walk straight under the walls, surface in the Sweeps, and slaughter this city. We may be able to seal the tunnel, but we may have just missed our only chance to find it undefended.”

  Aaron let silence fall over the stables, the only sound the crackling fire. The warm red light of the fire fell across his face, much as the setting sun had a few days ago. Only this time his eyes burned from smoke, embers lighted on his skin, and his view of the stables was marred by carelessly strewn corpses. Another home, however temporary, in flames. And the threat of another, larger bonfire on the horizon.

  Aaron rubbed at his pixie eye. “We should go.”

  Chapter 32. An Exercise in Thought

  Gelden Carr studied the black blade before him, Aaron Lorne’s sword. He sat, upright and still, at the austere desk in his office. He slowly rotated the weapon, observing the clean lines from each angle, noting the contrast of the light wood tones of the desk below with the midnight black sword. Satisfying whatever urge had prompted him to examine it yet again, he allowed it to clatter to the desktop. S’Kuhr’Mar, even the Awakened, did not take trophies, yet Carr had viewed the sword in that light. Or at least he had until word came back that Aaron Lorne had escaped, aided by Cal Mast, who had killed one of his dragons. This was the second time the spy had fled Carr’s clutches, armed with that which he should not know. There was little time for Aaron to do anything with his knowledge of the tunnel, but it was shaming nonetheless.

  With a wave of his hand, Carr sent the S’Kuhr’Mar around him out of the room. He sat still for several long moments before he reached into a pocket and removed a small jewelry case. Possessions were rare among the S’Kuhr’Mar, but Carr had progressed far down the path of the Awakened.

  He gently opened the jewelry case with his delicate, manicured fingers. Inside were eight finely cut gemstones. His most valued possessions, they were a gift from the Council of Ten as part of his Awakening. With the stones, he was given training in accessing emotion. It enabled the Awakened S’Kuhr’Mar to become more in tune with their ancient enemy, the humans. It aided their ability to think beyond the present and outside the immediate. With emotion they could quiet the endless press of the S’Kuhr’Mar mind, a drive for growth and the craving for the death of all things alien, all competition.

  Each gemstone represented an emotion. Carr had been painstakingly taught how to access and then focus his thoughts in an emotional pattern, unlocking new realities. At first it was an uncomfortable exercise, but he had grown to value it. It gave his path clarity at times of uncertainty. It was while using the stones that he first conceived of the plan to take Delhonne.

  Carr carefully plucked his first stone from the small pile at the side of the desk and laid it in front of him. It was an oval-cut emerald. Sorrow. Carr focused his thoughts on sorrow, on regret. Zarus Coff’s face floated into his mind. Among the S’Kuhr’Mar, there was no such thing as friendship, but there was some measure of trust. Carr had valued and trusted Coff. His death had complicated the operation. Carr wished to surface in Delhonne, surrounded by the carnage of his enemies, to be greeted by Coff, who would lead the S’Kuhr’Mar up the tunnel. Carr thought of witnessing the success of his plan without Coff by his side, and he sensed a sort of emptiness in his chest. He focused on it, harnessing the emotion of sorrow.

  After a long moment, he reached for a second stone. He randomly drew a square cut-corner diamond. Joy. A good counterbalance to sorrow. Carr visualized the success of his plan. Much of Delhonne would be slaughtered tomorrow night. Amidst the confusion, the soldiers would be unable to organize. The people would panic. The S’Kuhr’Mar were tireless hunters, they would find and kill every man, woman, and child huddled in their home. Thousands would escape the city, but Delhonne would burn. The population of the east would take generations to recover. Delhonne would likely never be rebuilt. It would stand in ruin as a testament to the greatest S’Kuhr’Mar general to ever live. Carr would return in triumph to the Council of Ten. His name would be changed to something more suiting the strongest S’Kuhr’Mar outside the Ten. Carr felt joy.

  A cushion-cut blue sapphire was next. Revulsion. Carr thought of Aaron, but the emotion did not fit. Nor did his new enemy, Cal Mast. His ally Viscount Gerald Grace, however, fit well. Carr remembered the first night they had broken through into Grace’s cellar. Coff had secured the home and had Grace dragged down, naked and squealing, thrown to the floor in Carr’s office. Grace had begged and pleaded before Carr even spoke. Carr recognized Grace’s willingness to betray his own people quickly. Carr’s plan of intimidation had switched to that of bribery. He had promised Grace salvation from the coming flood. He made Grace recruit others, most of whom were unwilling to bend and had died in this room. Only Pete Stephos survived among them. Grace’s cowardice, his weakness caused a small fire to burn in Carr’s stomach. He savored the feeling of revulsion.

  Carr next drew a round black opal. He twisted it between his fingers, reflecting. Envy. He always struggled with envy. Who had something he wanted? Who was someone he wanted to be? He had no envy for the humans like Aaron Lorne, clinging to their pasts and clawing pathetically at their prison bars. Nor his unawakened soldiers. Carr would like the unquestioned power of the Council of Ten, but he would rather be out in the world, leading the S’Kuhr’Mar to their rightful position of exclusivity. Carr envied no one. He placed the gem on the table.

  A moment later, he picked it up again. There was something about Aaron Lorne flitting about in the corner of his mind, like a trapped moth. By openly landing in Delhonne and exposing the dragons to the city, Aaron would be recognized as having introduced dragons to this era of man. Dragons had been everywhere in the stories Carr studied of men. There were legends of great fiery battles between dragon armies, great civilizations where the nobility traveled atop the beasts. Yet dragons had not been seen for generations. Carr had relied on enslaved dragons for several years now. Reintroducing them to the terrified humans was meant to be Carr’s honor. He deserved recognition. Carr had also lost a military advantage. When his dragons openly flew the skies over Delhonne, people would be less awestruck. They had been given days to observe the dragons. They now knew there was no fire breathing, there was no magic. Carr had planned on using the confusion and fear the dragons would add when his army appeared at the east gate. He may not envy Aaron, but Carr envied the recognition Aaron would receive as the bringer of dragons.

  A round milky white pearl was next. Shame. Carr had never struggled with this one. The loss of his name, taken from him by the actions of a child. And now he had fresh shame to experience, the spy escaped. His plot potentially exposed. The mistake of not killing Aaron himself, believing himself above it.

  A trillion-cut red ruby. Anger. Aaron Lorne. Cal Mast. The death of Zarus Coff. Rival dragons in Delhonne. A perfect plot in danger of early exposure.

  Cut in the shape of an octagon, a yellow topaz. Excitement. The arrival of the S’Kuhr’Mar army led by another Awakened. Carr’s lieutenant Ulsor Vinn led the army. Vinn brought the remaining dragons under Carr’s control with him, to supplement their dwindling ranks, along with the S’Kuhr’Mar army. Vinn was only steps below Zarus Coff. Coff was hi
s best in the shadows, ensnaring prey, bringing his master’s enemies to him wrapped in silky ropes or shrouded in death. He had done well in Delhonne before Cal Mast somehow bested him. Vinn was a leader, marching in front of the army. He knew the hundreds of steps to hold together the thousands of S’Kuhr’Mar, keep them moving and ready, hungry for blood and fire.

  Excitement had ahold of Carr. He would watch thousands of S’Kuhr’Mar walk by from the door of his office. None would stop to acknowledge him, but all would know their greatest glory was due to the only truly Awakened they had ever seen. Gelden Carr would climb out of the tunnel as the slaughter was ending, greeted by glorious death much like he caused so long ago in Wyelin. The S’Kuhr’Mar would grow, as was their destiny. As was their need.

  A square-cut pink amethyst was last. Fear. Carr considered the possibility that he might fail. Several of the Council had questioned committing such a large force to this attack. Nearly half of the S’Kuhr’Mar army marched out of the S’Kuhr, the Ashlands. If Carr had miscalculated, if Aaron were able to expose the tunnel and turn the slaughter into a real battle, the toll on the S’Kuhr’Mar would be enormous.

  Grace had established defenses to prevent the governments of Delhonne, especially the Senate, from acting to seal the tunnel. Without knowing why they did so, a diverse set of Senators had supported the clearing of the eastern guard and the emptying of the Lower Sweeps. They would stop listening and silence Lorne the moment they realized he was addressing activities in the Lower Sweeps. They would sense their steady flow of bribe money to be in danger. They would not listen to intelligence about a S’Kuhr’Mar threat. Many of them did not even believe the S’Kuhr’Mar really existed.

  But Grace had proven inadequate at many of his tasks among the humans. His attempts to recruit others of influence to their cause had been pathetic. Grace had brought many of Delhonne’s nobility back to the mansion. They were dragged into Carr’s presence, but few showed a willingness to accept their life in exchange for cooperation. They had died on the floor in front of Carr’s desk. Grace seemed indifferent to their fate. Grace was unable to lure any of Delhonne’s most powerful into their web by bribery or intimidation. He failed to gain the attention of the Marquis Flegonne. And he had never even gotten close to King Jacob, the prize Carr was most interested in.

  Gelden Carr was a powerful leader, and he desired the respect of other leaders. He looked down at the gemstones. They had done their job once again. His fear of failure had alerted him to the danger of Aaron’s exposing the tunnel and the possibility of Grace’s failure to contain this threat. He desired respect and he had felt something not unlike loneliness since Coff’s death. He needed to provide himself with a worthy guest and while he was doing so, weaken Delhonne’s ability to respond to the S’Kuhr’Mar threat.

  He swept the gemstones into the jewelry case and stood. He stepped into the hall. The S’Kuhr’Mar on either side of the door turned.

  “Take half of the forward guard to the Palace. Bring me King Jacob, unharmed. Keep your exposure to a minimum. Treat the King with respect, but I will have him in my chamber before the sun comes up.”

  The S’Kuhr’Mar nodded and moved off down the tunnel, their spidery limbs receding in the quiet darkness deep under Delhonne.

  Chapter 33. The Room of Stained Glass

  The runner stood in the corner of Conners’ room, awaiting instruction. The distant thunder of the dry storm beat futilely on the thick Palace walls. The halls were quiet, dimly lit. The runner had been there before many times and knew how to reach Conners without attracting the attention of the few other servants that remained awake this late.

  Conners, still in full butler regalia, sat at the desk that occupied half of his small room. His fingers were intertwined, resting on the table in front of him. A note lay next to his weathered hands.

  Chalk army approaches from east. Plan to draw Home Guard to east gate and use tunnel to surface in Sweeps. Gelden Carr in charge and also Awakened Chalk who led Corvale Slaughter. Somewhere in or under Sweeps. Attacked Stables. Several dead. Moved dragons to Ranges under Cullmore. Issale in support. Need to counsel.

  It had been many years since Conners had received a message of such urgency. He would have to leave the Palace again tonight. He was reluctant to do so. The King was restless and rarely slept. Conners trusted none of the other servants to calm him successfully. And there were Chalk in the city. The Palace was badly undermanned. It was a poorly kept secret that there were almost no guards remaining on the payroll. The only thing that kept burglars out was the knowledge that a crime against the crown was punishable by death, and the Home Guard would strictly enforce that sentence.

  Still, the mastermind who had slaughtered the Corvale at Wyelin so many years ago was found. Vengeance was needed. And the city hung in the balance. All the Delhonne Corvale. Conners addressed the runner, “Go to Miriam’s next. Tell her what you’ve told me. Ask her to meet me at Aaron’s new location in the Ranges in two hours.” He tossed a few coins. The runner accepted them with a small bow and quietly slipped out the door.

  Conners stayed where he was for a moment, playing out various scenarios in his mind. Aaron was not one to flee from a fight, especially with the debt he owed a blood enemy like Carr. The fact that he had shifted to the Ranges and not simply left the city meant he planned on acting against Carr. And that was fine, Conners himself longed for the severed head of the architect of the Corvale’s annihilation. But Conners had greater obligations to consider than revenge. Aaron only endangered those loyal to him, warriors and mercenaries. Aaron did not have the weight of a community of men, women, and children to protect like Conners did.

  Would Aaron attempt to notify Delhonne of the pending danger? Would they listen? Would it help? Should Conners be rounding up his people, getting them out of the city or to the Corvale House, which would offer some temporary protection at least? Fleeing the city would cost them their jobs and their homes regardless of how dangerous the Chalk attack was. What, for that matter, was he to do about the King? He would be a target during the invasion and was not safe here.

  Conners decided to consult with Aaron before taking action. He may need to reclaim the services of Derrick Issale, which Aaron would not appreciate. Derrick would probably be frustrated as well.

  There was also the matter of the proposal Aaron had brought him earlier today. While at the Palace, Aaron had pulled Conners aside. He offered to facilitate the relocation of the Corvale. He wanted them to move to the Frome Mountains to serve as stewards of a dragon army. A new and attractive identity for their struggling people. A new homeland. A new purpose. Was it what they wanted? Could they leave before the Chalk horde? Or had Aaron’s offer to take the Corvale to the Frome Mountains expired when he discovered that Gelden Carr was the monster he had been searching for all these years?

  A scream followed by the sound of breaking glass jarred Conners from his thoughts. He stood, moving to the door, and carefully looked out into the dark hallway. There was nothing out there. He returned to the desk and lit a candle. He raised the candle in one hand. His other gripped the long, narrow knife he kept hidden under his black vest.

  Conners entered the empty hallway. He moved towards the sound, in the direction of the kitchens. As he passed a lit pantry, he saw a body sprawled out on the floor. A small pool of blood had collected near the fair, curly hair of one of the kitchen maids. The attacker was nowhere in sight. Conners continued his search, pausing only to draw his knife.

  He cursed the darkness. It had been he who had forced the entire household to limit the consumption of candles and lamp oil. He knew the castle like the back of his hand, but the halls seemed to cast strange and long shadows. Drafts came from odd directions, tossing the light of his single flame erratically across the walls.

  The King would be in the East Room, the same place they had seen Aaron and Cal earlier today. He spent many late nights there, staring out the stained glass windows, usually in the direction of the mo
at. Conners looked around the corner of the hall that led to the East Room’s entrance. It felt as though it took a long moment for the light of the flame to reach the far end of the hall. It illuminated the faces of two Chalk, standing at attention, flanking the doors, as though they had always stood guard there.

  Conners froze for a moment. It had been nearly a decade since he last saw the cold, emotionless face of a Chalk. They stood perfectly still, but still the eerie creatures seemed to radiate anger, disgust. He exhaled slowly, feeling his fear replaced with anger. They did not belong here.

  There was a noise behind him. Conners whirled to see two more Chalk walking down the hall. These were approaching him.

  Conners straightened his uniform, carefully returning the long knife to its hidden hilt under his vest. His best option might be to ignore them. They had attacked the kitchen maid as she screamed. Perhaps they were looking for silence. He turned and approached the East Room. The hall seemed endless. He tried to keep his eyes on the Chalk ahead of him, ignore the sounds of footsteps behind him.

  As he reached the door, he looked to the Chalk on the right side, “The King is inside?”

  The Chalk said nothing, but also made no move towards him. Conners slowly and deliberately reached for the door. He saw the Chalk’s black eyes scan him, examining his uniform. It still did not move. Conners opened the door and entered the East Room.

  The room was deathly quiet. There were at least ten Chalk inside, standing at regular intervals around the room. The King sat on the sofa, his eyes lost in the distance, as though he were unaware of his unwelcome guests.

  “I’ve told you this room becomes too drafty, my King. You will catch a chill,” Conners said, walking confidently across the room to a small wardrobe and drawing out a long robe.

  As he approached King Jacob, he saw relief in the King’s eyes. However close he had slipped to madness in his grief over his daughter, Jacob was not oblivious to the world around him. He was frightened. Seeing Conners brought him some measure of comfort. Though Conners did not expect either would live through the night, he took pride in being of service to this man who once was great and always was kind.