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

by Samuel Gately

  The troops marching behind Vinn were all carrying long knives, unlike those who had come before, and several more carried torches, throwing pools of firelight. Derrick knew the fires would start soon and he hoped they would pass the home without incident. He had brought as many full water buckets as he could fit in their hiding spot, but time had been short.

  Derrick guessed there were another five hundred or so Chalk in the second smaller branch of the army. Aaron said that the second branch would be sent to the gates to rouse the city and draw the defenses to the exterior of the city. The three thousand or so Chalk from the larger first branch would pour in behind the defenses after emerging from the tunnel inside the walls. This second branch’s job was to rouse the guards and attract as many watchers as possible, inspire as much fear as they could. Which meant they would be accompanied by Carr’s dragons. Derrick leaned in closer to the window, moving slowly to avoid catching any eyes from below. He craned his neck upwards and looked at the sky. In the fading light, he saw seven or eight dark shapes sliding through the air, pacing the Chalk leading the second branch of the army.

  When the last Chalk had passed, Derrick exhaled. He turned to his men, all eyes on him. A single fist raised. Everyone rose. Only one bundle in the corner stayed where it was. Derrick waited for a moment, then walked over and gently shook the bundle. “Time to go.”

  The Dura Mati looked at him with dark eyes, then slowly rose to his feet.

  …

  The setting sun shone over the shoulders of Ambassador Stone and Senator Drake as they hustled across Delhonne, escorted by a small group of soldiers. They were headed to the Castalan Embassy and the Corvale House, respectively. After a long day waging their own kind of battle, the men found some comfort in traveling together. Both were worrying over their people.

  The Senate deliberations had been, as expected, a complete mess. Stone and Drake had pulled out every card they could to get on the agenda. They opened their scheduled time on the floor by broadly accusing the Senate of rampant corruption. The chamber had erupted. Drake and Stone listed the names of those they believe had taken bribes from Grace or his agents to move the eastern guard out of the path of the Chalk. Each name they listed immediately became an enemy for life. The accused moved to quickly silence and discredit the pair. They were being pulled from the floor while shouting that they believed a Chalk attack to be imminent. The opposition to the bribe takers was enjoying the performance and tried to keep them going. Others were upset that they hadn’t received any of this bribe money. All were ashamed by the juvenile antics of the two political lightweights.

  Stone had arranged for an armed escort from the Castalan Embassy to arrive before they could be locked up or a fatal accident could be arranged. The escort led the men out of the Senate building, much to the chagrin of their new enemies. Many noted the direction of retreat and immediately began to plot revenge in groups and in isolation. The consensus was that neither Stone nor Drake would live through the night. Wagers were quietly placed to that effect.

  Stone and Drake had utterly failed in warning the city about the impending attack. The Senate was taking no action to ready defenses or even look into the exposed gap to their east. And this failure was, of course, what Aaron and Cal had wanted. Aaron had drawn the idea from Ty Cullmore’s deliberately failed assassination attempt. An empty action to keep their enemies on course. Stone and Drake had at least gotten the names of the corrupt on record. Those Senators would face a reckoning tomorrow, assuming the entire city wasn’t burned to ash by then. If a miracle was pulled off and the Chalk army was stopped, both Corvale and Castalan would be on record as providing a warning to their ally. Most importantly, if Carr had watchers in the Senate, he would see nothing that forced him to change his plans. The trap remained baited.

  Stone savored the odd taste of accomplishing nothing, exactly as he had been instructed to do. He looked to the sky, thinking of Cal’s father, and said, “I think he does right by you, my Lord. I pray he will do you proud today. If he does not, I have failed you.”

  By now the city alarm bells to the east were ringing. The Chalk had been spotted. They had come through the eastern neighborhoods outside the walls. The vast bulk of the army vanished into the outer end of the tunnel. Their disappearance was witnessed by only a few, none of whom understood what they were seeing. It was the second group, led by the Awakened Chalk Ulsor Vinn, that triggered the alarms as they marched towards the east gate.

  …

  Roald Barin hurried behind his Watch Captain, trying to keep up without breaking into a run. The Captain seemed to think running might trigger a panic, as if racing along in an awkward stiff-legged walk was not drawing more attention. Just ahead was the first staircase that eventually wound its way to the top of the east gate. Alarm bells filled the air.

  The Watch Captain finally threw caution to the wind and began running up the stairs, two at a time. Roald was forced to follow, cursing his ample gut. He’d been with the Home Guard only three months. His older brothers had gotten him the easy role of City Watch. Most nights he stood at the gates, nothing to do but chat with the wagon trains, share the news. Some of the Guard liked to be aloof or threatening. Not Roald. He just liked chatting. This job was perfect for it. They never shut the gates. Roald never had to tell anyone to turn back. Criminals and smugglers were never foolish enough to come near an official checkpoint, so he didn’t have to deal with them. Didn’t even know what he’d do if he caught one. All the entry and exit paperwork belonged to a different group. A richer group for sure, bribe money flowed endlessly, but Roald didn’t envy them. They were a busy crew with lots of palms to grease and favors to track. Roald was free to swap the news with the merchants and trail bosses. They were always eager to hear what he had to say. They’d been in the wilderness and even someone like him, not the brightest candle, he knew, could hold their attention. Some even greeted him by name.

  The job had been great up until about five minutes ago. Now an invading army had arrived. The gate had closed for the first time since Roald could remember. Fortunately the old, decayed machinery had held. Score one for the engineers. Everyone was saying the army was Chalk, the scary, pale creatures out of the east. Why had they come? What did they want? How did they get past all the scouts? Roald hurried up the stairs, trying not to vomit.

  The Watch Captain slowed as he reached the top of the wall. Roald did the same, not sure if he wanted to look out into the Outer Rim neighborhood. He did, then immediately regretted his decision. In his worst nightmares, he had never seen anything as terrifying as the approaching Chalk army.

  It looked like a river of fire had poured into Delhonne. Torches marched down the streets, lighting the white faces of the creatures, the Chalk. The path the army had taken to the east gate was outlined in fire. Hundreds of houses were burning. It was the height of dry season and the flames feasted unchecked. High above the river of fire and pale faces, dark shapes writhed through the sky. Dragons. Like the ones that Corvale had brought. But something told Roald these dragons would not be content to hunker down in a stable. They came ready for battle, for blood.

  The Watch Captain’s hand hit him hard in the neck. “I said crossbows, man! Now! And find Jericho and tell him we need every single soldier in the city here right now. Go!”

  Roald let his Captain’s push get him started back down the stairs. Men who would usually laugh at the sight of Roald running, breath heaving, gut bounced, simply watched him pass with grim expressions. Roald was only too happy to get away from that wall. It seemed far too thin to separate him from the hell he had witnessed. Roald ran, trying not to think about how easy it would be to keep running, past the store rooms, past the men waiting for orders, until he got someplace dark where he could hide.

  …

  As the Chalk passed into busier neighborhoods closer to the wall, people fled ahead of them, filled with terror at the gruesome specter. Those who ran north or south lived, at least temporarily. The ones who
ran for the shelter of the city walls found themselves locked outside the hastily closed gate. They were cut to pieces as the Chalk arrived, hungry for blood. By now there were hundreds of torches carried by the army. Many were thrown into the houses near the gate, adding fire and smoke to the chaotic scene, and also lighting up the army so the soldiers of Delhonne could see what they were dealing with.

  The Chalk gathered at the base of old walls, not immediately demonstrating any plans beyond burning the homes and killing the people within their reach. The dragons didn’t stop at the walls, but simply flew over them and into Delhonne on some undisclosed mission.

  Soldiers sent orders for all reinforcements at all haste. Crossbows were dragged out of storage and dusted off. Like the old weapons, the soldiers themselves unpacked their own dusty and long neglected courage. The light of the growing fires shone on the faces of the white demons that had arrived to burn the city and kill everyone in it. The ringing of the bells called all armed men to the east.

  …

  The sound of the alarm bells made its way to the Palace courtyard. Aaron and Cal sat in the light of the setting sun, sharing a last cigarette. Aaron slowly rose to his feet with a small, exaggerated groan. “Time to go to work.”

  He mounted Marsail, gave Cal a single nod, then took off on the dragon, tailed by an escort of two more of the beasts. Once they had gained altitude, the group banked sharply and headed off towards the Lower Sweeps.

  Chapter 38. Another Rough Landing

  Aaron and his dragons flew above Market Street, following it into the Lower Sweeps. Grace’s mansion was visible from the sky, torches brightly burning on all four corners, the only lights in the growing darkness of the Lower Sweeps as the sun fell below the houses. Carr had clearly given up on subterfuge or felt it was too late for him to be stopped. If any dragons were inbound with the army, the torches may be guiding them to this location. Aaron would have to move quickly and count on Cal for the rest.

  He banked again on Marsail and gave a small gesture to inform the other dragons to slide ahead. Neither Aaron nor Cal knew much about engineering, but Sleepy Jon did. Aaron had spoken with him several times during the day about how best to accomplish this next part. The seamless communication with the dragons was the only thing that would make it possible. He had three dragons. Carr and Grace had a mansion which had been hollowed out to accommodate a giant tunnel. Aaron wanted to rip the roof off of the mansion.

  The dragons flattened out into a dive. Aaron scanned the horizon but saw no defenses in place yet, no winged company. The dragons, with Aaron ducked low on the trailing Marsail, raced towards the mansion. They flew over the back part of the mansion, across the roof to target its front upper corners. A moment later, the first dragon crashed hard into the front left corner of the structure, sending brick and wood flying, raining debris out onto the street. The Chalk positioned in front of the house scattered. The second dragon crashed into the right corner, sending another wave of destruction out onto the street. Marsail simply dropped like a rock, falling on the center point of the roof along the front of the mansion. With the interior support removed to make way for the tunnel, and the exterior walls damaged by the crashing dragons, the roof collapsed, sending debris down onto the floor of the mansion, much of which tumbled down into the tunnel.

  Marsail balanced on the front wall of the mansion for a moment, framed against the light of the setting sun, and led out a great hissing roar as the wall collapsed forward into the street, crushing a half dozen Chalk. As the wall fell, Marsail flapped his wings twice and landed smoothly atop the tumbled wall in the center of the rubble. The other two dragons shook themselves free of dust and joined him. The three dragons turned to face the now exposed tunnel behind them and the Chalk who stood at the opening. Aaron dismounted.

  “I am Aaron Lorne,” he said, projecting his voice across the chaotic scene of broken stone, “here to speak with Gelden Carr. Take me to him.” Without waiting for a response, Aaron turned, removed the belt which held his dagger and threw it over Marsail’s head. “Go back to Cal, and good luck,” he said quietly to the dragon.

  Marsail and the others took off. Aaron watched them a moment, then looked at the Chalk in front of him. He walked towards them. They slowly parted. His every instinct was rebelling as he openly approached his old enemy, unarmed and alone, but he had learned more about the Chalk in the last four days than he had in the last two decades. These ones had no right to refuse him. He was Carr’s to deal with. Power was their currency, and while they might hate humans and want to see them dead, they could not challenge one who rode dragons and demanded to be shown to Gelden Carr’s lair without fear.

  As he arrived at the lip of the tunnel, Aaron looked up to survey his work. The roof was gone. The tunnel was exposed to the sky. It was Cal’s turn. Aaron just needed to keep Carr busy and get out alive, preferably with Conners and the King.

  Several Chalk climbed down the tunnel rapidly ahead of Aaron. The net was more complete and well anchored than it had been just the night before, though some of the rubble he had sent down the hole had ripped out portions of it. As Aaron descended, more Chalk followed him above. There was better light this time, torches had been placed every twenty feet or so. Still, at the quiet points of darkness between the torchlight, when all Aaron could see was the spidery white limbs of the Chalk above and below him, he felt very alone.

  As he reached the bottom, Aaron saw there was more rubble and several Chalk bodies piled in the corner. He noted with satisfaction they had been unable to move the dead dragon, only pushed it into a corner. Cal’s sword was still sticking out of its eye.

  He entered the horizontal part of the tunnel, trying not to look up at the place he was supposed to be hanging from and bleeding to death. Now the Chalk surrounded him as he walked. Four Chalk walked closely at his corners, all carrying lit torches. Aaron guessed this was their way of arming themselves while not appearing to. Any misstep by him and he would be badly burned.

  As they walked down the long dark tunnel, Aaron sensed the Chalk army approaching from the other end. The larger branch of the army must have already entered the tunnel in the Outer Rim. At first there was the smallest vibration. Even hard stone could feel so many footsteps. And there was a rising sound, a quiet shuffling of feet that grew and grew. There was an old, decayed, dusty smell that brought Aaron back to the sands of the Ashlands. But more than any of those things, there was a feeling, an energy in the air, an ancient hatred, a trapped purpose. Aaron remembered hearing some of the Vylass call the Chalk the white ants and he turned the phrase over in his mind. There was much to that. Much like ants, the Chalk were built to swarm. They were guided by an elite few, the others shuffling along, mindlessly dealing out death to anything alien. And they had been summoned to Delhonne to destroy the nest of their greatest threat, man.

  As the army reached them, Aaron found himself in the midst of thousands of Chalk. Those ahead made way in the small tunnel for Aaron and his escort. He walked past row after row of Chalk, most moving forward, others packing themselves into the waiting areas to make room for more coming from the back. He could feel the anger, the eagerness rolling off of them. Aaron estimated they would begin the climb in just a few minutes and reach the top not long after that. As with many things the Chalk did, they appeared to be prepared to do it all at once. Every Chalk would stream up the tunnel and out in Delhonne as quickly as the tunnel throat would allow. There was no subtlety, no amassing of forces, no selection of strategic targets. What Carr had devised was the extent of their strategizing. Their success would rely on sheer numbers and the element of surprise, both of which they had.

  Aaron finally reached Carr’s office near the end of the tunnel, troops still pouring past the group. He entered the open door. Gelden Carr sat still at his desk, hands folded. In a chair across from him sat King Jacob. Aaron was able to see Conners out of the corner of his eye, standing at attention near the wall. There were six Chalk in the room, plus the four
who had just escorted Aaron in.

  “So glad you could join us, Mr. Lorne,” Carr said. He gave a cold smile. “The time of my triumph is nearly upon us.”

  Chapter 39. Control of the Skies

  Marsail returned to the Palace with Aaron’s dagger around his neck, the signal that the tunnel mouth was exposed and it looked like Aaron would be taken to Carr. Cal now ran point on the operation. The Palace courtyard was empty. All of the men working with Jon and Cal had been moved to Market Slope. By now they would have entered into the Lower Sweeps and would soon encounter resistance.

  Cal stood in the center of the courtyard, near what remained of the central Palace gate. Under his direction, the men, with support from the dragons, had chiseled and pried at the stones over the archway of the gate until the entire structure became unstable. Chains were wound through the portcullis, the spiked steel grid that could be dropped into place to secure the courtyard from attack. The dragons towed on the chains until finally, with a massive crash, the mechanisms holding the portcullis into place had fallen away and the enormous structure had fallen flat to the ground.

  The portcullis was nearly the size of a house. It was as heavy as a wagon full of bricks. It would take at least five healthy dragons to haul it to the Lower Sweeps. They had practiced lifting it in the courtyard earlier today. Chains were already positioned at all the corners, giving the dragons something to grip. It would leave Cal with only one healthy dragon and another still recovering from injury to protect them as they traveled.

  He checked the sky. The sun was nearly set. Cal wasn’t sure if he was hoping to see the enemy dragons so he would at least know where they were, or if he was glad the sky was clear. He knew he’d see them before long. Unless they were involved in the attack on the east gate, Carr probably sent them into the city with instructions to kill anything that shared the skies with them.

  Cal walked around to each dragon, doing his best to project the mission to them. Carry the portcullis to the tunnel. Drop it on top of the tunnel mouth, capping the exposed hole. Don’t let anything stop you.