Alliance of the Sunken (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 3)

by Samuel Gately

  He turned to Cal as Shay and Finn left the group. “You got any problem running the point, Castalanian?”

  Cal offered a dark smile. “Never.”

  “Good. Over you go. We’ll be behind you in thirty seconds, lest you tell us otherwise.”

  The wall was an easy vault, the only trick was missing the deeper puddles on the other side to avoid making a splash. The grounds were dark, only lights on the front and back of the large house ahead of him across the long lawn. Looked to be Sunken lamps. He could see no evidence of the guards. His silent count at ten, Cal ran across the lawn, finding a tree trunk to position himself behind. The front gate was closer. If those and the ones at the back were the only guards, the front gate guards had the best chance of catching the group as they made their way over the wall. He pressed tight against the tree, drawing his dagger and looking off into the darkness.

  Jon went over, followed by Jenner, a little louder in his full armor. The other Queen’s Guards were next, louder still. Cal was thinking everything was going smoothly until the last guard slipped and fell sideways, hitting the ground with a clatter. Cal cursed, turning back to watch the darkness in the direction of the gate. As he listened to the guard being helped up, he saw two dark shapes materialize. Sunken. They were walking towards the group with swords drawn, still too far away to see them in the dark. He tightened the grip on his dagger.

  When they had almost reached the tree, there was a commotion back at the front gate. The snarl of fighting dogs. It grew louder, the dogs separating to bark loudly at one another. The Sunken guards hesitated, then turned back towards the gate.

  Cal slowly lowered his dagger and began backing towards the group, his feet quietly passing through the wet grass. It was short work to get to one of the house’s side doors, which they found wide open, and into the dark halls. The house had an air of abandonment. It looked as though the Sunken had been through at least once to throw open every window and kick down every door. They wanted the open air, they were greedy for it. The wind blew through the halls, rattling old paintings and throwing curtains across the archways like questing fingers. Cal stayed in the lead, watching the floorboards for wet tracks, occasionally bending at the knees to put his hand down where it was too dark to see.

  They made their way closer to the heart of the mansion, finally pausing before green lights streaming through an open archway. There were Sunken voices and the rattling of chains. Rather than approach, Cal looked for nearby staircases. He found one that looked promising and went back to the group.

  “Jon, you and Jenner come with me. The rest stay hidden.”

  The three went up the stairs, carpet muffling the sound of their feet. They ended in a balcony shrouded in curtains. When Cal peeked out, he was at a perfect vantage point to look out on Lord Gale’s new court.

  The Sunken had done some redecorating, creating a twisted mirror of Gale’s court below. The room had been cleared of furniture, piles of broken wood at the sides. Chains hung all over the room, draped down from the rafters to hang at head level above the wooden floor. Most ended in hooks. Some held lanterns. Several held bodies, Gale wasting no time bringing his cruelties above the Plate. The floor was wet with water and blood, especially under the hooked. Gale had a makeshift throne set up atop the stage at one end. He sat in it, coldly looking out across the room, waiting on something unseen. There were twelve Sunken that Cal could see in varying states of readiness. All of the Gale variety with long darkines and crests on display. And there, in the corner, quietly seated and ignored, was the Princess Kylee Olmont. Her face was towards the floor, her dress smudged with handprints.

  One of the larger bodies on the hooks gave a small thrash, drawing Cal’s eyes. The poor man was still alive, though blood poured out over his long, grey coat. Lorimer. His headstart had not served him well. Cal had to credit his courage, though, if he’d come in here alone. Another brave man who died on Gale’s hook. Some vengeance was long overdue.

  Cal, Jon, and Jenner each took a turn at the curtain, then they pulled back for a quiet conference in the dark balcony. The black curtains killed the light as they fell back into place.

  “She’s on our side of the room,” Jon said quietly. “Unchained. If we use the element of surprise, we could pull her back into the halls. We keep moving so they can’t flank us. If the exit is open, we can pull her out of here. We can lose them in the streets if we need to, if they pursue that far.”

  Cal nodded. “That should work. You’ll need to be quick about it.”

  Jenner was looking hard at Cal. “What do you mean you?”

  “I mean, you. I’m going to wait up here. And once you’ve drawn the bulk of the Sunken off, I’ll go have a chat with our new Lord.”

  Jenner glanced at Jon, his face worried. Jon was giving Cal a long look.

  Cal shrugged under the heavy gaze. “You really want to leave him alive? That isn’t the only little girl on top of the Plate. He’ll find another. Or look for her again. You only need two good swords to block the retreat once you get back into the halls. That’s you two.”

  Jon nodded slowly. “Fine.” They turned to go. “Good luck.”

  “Same to you.” As Jenner and Jon made their way off the balcony, Cal said quietly to Jon’s back, “Don’t look so shocked. I told you I called Gale.”

  Chapter 34. The Burning Towers

  All four of the archer towers surrounding the Camron Air stables were in flames. The rain hissed as it fell on the blazing structures. The surrounding streets, lit by the flickering fires, were otherwise quiet. Surdoore’s citizens were not out to fight the flames nor see what was happening. A full moon, near the harbor, when rumors had the Sunken rising up and dragging people below, drove the people of the Plate to shutter their windows and lock their doors, holding their loved ones close. Even those who scoffed at rumors of the Sunken found excuse to stay in and keep what meager weapons they had at hand. Whoever or whatever came to their door would get no answer until the safety of the returning sun. It was no night to be about. In the streets the only sounds were the falling of rain and the barking of dogs, taking offense at something in the night’s air.

  The compound had no guards, but as Aaron, Miriam, and Nalani passed through the open gate, they saw bodies to either side. The courtyard was bathed in the fiery light of the burning towers. Anders was right where Aaron had seen him the other day, in front of the centrally located fountain. Only instead of lounging on furniture with a drink in his hand, the leader of Camron Air was on his knees, a knife at his throat, surrounded by enemies and the bodies of his men. The Sunken were in the process of gathering the dragons around.

  Aaron scanned the scene. Marsail and the other two SDC dragons were among the thirteen. There were twelve Sunken, all armed with blades. They were of the Gale variety, darkines painted with smears of glowing paint that sharply outlined them against the night. The one holding the knife to Anders’ throat had the largest darkine of the group. He looked up at Aaron’s approach with keen eyes. “Shouldn’t you be cowering in your home with the others?”

  “Who let you out of your cell, Odell?” Aaron asked. Miriam and Nalani ranged out behind him. The Sunken leading the dragons ceased their activity and moved closer to Odell.

  “You know my name?” Odell asked with idle curiosity, smiling as he pressed the knife tighter to Anders’ throat.

  “Of course. Not only that, I’ve seen you before.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “I was watching the first time you saw a dragon.” Aaron remembered Madame Jane’s vision, the Sunken watching the dragon and coveting it. This Sunken. “What started this whole thing. When you realized you would do anything for one. More than three years ago.”

  “You’ve walked the dark paths.” Odell grinned. “It took little to learn how simple it was to gain the dragons’ loyalties. I never imagined it could be so easy.” He leaned in, putting his face near Anders’ and opened his jaw wide as though ready to take a bite.
Aaron saw with disgust that the Sunken’s teeth were filed into points. “Such a prize should require greater courage than this.” Anders was trembling. His eyes flickered towards Aaron, desperation in them.

  Odell followed his gaze, his expression darkening. “Who are you?” he asked in an impatient tone.

  Aaron slowly removed his shirt, letting the rain fall over the marks across his torso and arms.

  Odell grunted as he took in the marks. “The language of the easterners.” He gestured towards Anders. “This coward has taught me not to be impressed by such marks. I lack the knowledge to compare this,” he reached a hand back and caressed his darkine, “to your marks. But it doesn’t matter. When I kill him, and then you, the dragons will know which one of us to follow.”

  He studied Aaron’s chest for a moment, then grunted again. “You are one of the Spies of Dragon and Chalk. I have been warned. Where is the other? I was told to face one is to face both.”

  “You’ll meet him sooner than you’d like.”

  “I see,” Odell said, looking around the compound. The other Sunken imitated him. “No matter. He will attack from behind and die, or he is not here.” Odell looked closely at Aaron’s face. “But I think perhaps he is not here. I think you dance at Locke’s strings. I think if you are here at his beckon, perhaps the other faces Lord Gale. If that is the case, I wish him luck. Not that we shall ever be allied, I suppose, after I kill his partner.” He flashed another dark smile. “Regardless, I have great plans for this evening. I regret the need to cut our conversation short. But I am indeed out of my cell and enjoying the night air. And I have places to be.”

  He dragged the knife across Anders’ throat, spilling bright red blood onto the courtyard stones. For a moment, the light of the flames seemed to slow their flickering and the rain to cease falling. The only sound was a gasp from Nalani. Then Aaron leapt forward, Miriam, and Nalani right behind him. The other Sunken ran at the three, placing themselves in front of Odell. As the two groups clashed, weapons striking, Odell raised his hands in the air. “Come to me!” he yelled at the dragons. “I am your master now.”

  Aaron sidestepped a jab from one of the Sunken and brought his sword down on its exposed arm, spraying blood across the others behind it. Beyond them, he could see one of the dragons approaching Odell, light of the burning towers dancing off its black scales. Any questions about whether the Sunken could capture their loyalties, whether the darkine qualified him as a rider and master in their complex and impenetrable code, were answered as the dragon knelt before him. The other CA dragons joined him. They were now Odell’s.

  But there were other dragons in the compound. The SDC dragons had no ties to Anders. As they saw the blood being shed they began moving towards Aaron and Miriam, tossing Sunken in their way to the side. A gust of wind brought a stream of smoke from the burning towers across the courtyard, adding to the darkness and chaos.

  Odell’s loyal Sunken pressed forward, driving Aaron and the women back. Miriam felled one of the Sunken. Nalani retreated, knife held in front of her. Aaron swore as he watched Odell climb onto the back of the dragon. “Kill them all,” the Sunken yelled, “then follow me!” It looked as though he was taking no chances with the outcome of the battle and fleeing with the trophy he’d chased three long years. Aaron couldn’t let him go. The Sunken spy had been dangerous before he gained wings. Now he was a true threat.

  “Marsail!” Aaron shouted, and his dragon bowled over the group of Sunken to reach him. Aaron jumped onto his dragon’s back, watching Odell take off into the sky with a wild, bone-chilling laugh.

  Aaron locked eyes with Miriam, feeling Marsail coiled for flight, tense beneath him. “We’ll clean this place up,” she said. “Take him down.”

  Aaron nodded as Marsail kicked off into the sky, quickly clearing the burning towers to chase after Odell, who was headed out over the dark of the harbor.

  Chapter 35. The Rescue

  Jon went through the archway, calm and self-possessed. He weaved through the chains and bodies without a sound, ignoring the wild beating of his heart in his ears. He moved directly towards the closest Sunken and slid his sword into its back near the darkine. At the noise of the creature hitting the floor, every eye in the room turned to him.

  For a moment, all was still and the lights seemed to fall away, until Jon was only seeing all the eyes around the room. The wide, glaring whites of the Sunken, swimming out of the green. A shiver of fear ran through his body. It was easy enough to listen to the stories and to have seen the old one speak, quiet in its chair, unarmed and outnumbered. Those that surrounded Jon now were of a different breed. Hungry. The kind of creatures Navy men joked about in the daylight and held in terror at night for fears they would come from the restless, black waters and throw their arms around the necks of the sailors to pull them below to the realm of nightmares. And Jon had just wandered into their dark lair and slain one of them.

  Jon didn’t often think of failure, but the possibility was laid out before him, stark and bare. He would die right here, or be dragged under the Plate to live in wet terror for the rest of his days. To never see his family again. The princess would die. The other girl would be taken. The Militia and the Guards would remain fragmented and ignorant of the threat long past the time they could stop it. The Plate would bleed long and hard, and at the end would fall into the hands of the monster even now watching Jon, unmoving atop his dark throne.

  Jon straightened his hat, swallowed his fear, and slowly raised his sword, now dark with blood. He looked out on all the eyes around him. “Well,” he said, “come on then.”

  As the Sunken began moving towards him, Jenner and the other Queen’s Guards burst from the doorway behind Jon, yelling at the top of their lungs, armor rattling as their boots pounded the wooden floor, swords out. Jenner and another attacked on either side of Jon, pushing the Sunken back deeper into the room, while three other guards went straight for the princess. They cut down two Sunken who stood between them and the Queen’s daughter, slow to get their blades out.

  Then Sleepy Jon had to prioritize staying alive over paying attention to the progress of his allies. The Sunken before him lunged only to trip on the corpse at Jon’s feet. Jon got his sword into the creature’s back as it fell but it rolled, twisting, all rocky and hard angles, banging into his hands and dragging his sword down as others were closing. He saw Jenner stab a Sunken on his right, but the soldier over his left shoulder had fallen. Jon turned that direction just in time to parry the thrust of a rusty Sunken blade. Now he was stuck in a two-on-one, Jenner locked in combat with another of the seemingly endless supply of enemies. He could hear the other soldiers heading back towards the door, a good indication they’d gotten the princess. It was time to retreat this uneven battle with their prize.

  Jon slipped on a wet spot, one knee crashing to the floor. He managed to turn a blade that came questing for his head. Another he dodged, and he fought to his feet, giving one of the Sunken a shove backwards, where it hit a heavy hook and fell. Jon turned back, already knowing he was too late to escape the other’s blade. The Sunken had its hand back, ready to strike, when it was seized from behind. A thick, bloody hand caught the Sunken’s weapon. As it turned in surprise, Jon straightened and ran it through. When it fell off his sword, he found himself staring into Lorimer’s eyes.

  Lorimer was hooked under the chin, the point cruelly poking through his cheek. Blood covered his front. He had somehow managed to get his feet on the floor and toe closer to Jon, straining against the chain which held him. Then he had saved Jon’s life.

  Jon, stunned, looked at the hook, then the chain, desperately thinking of what could be done to get Lorimer free. Lorimer weakly followed his eyes and shook his head. His voice was a terrible whisper, the effort drawing forth more gushing blood. “Get her safe, fool.” His eyes were over Jon’s shoulder, watching the princess. “Tell Cassie—” he continued, then he gave a gurgle and died.

  Another Sunken was immediately on
Jon, giving him no time to reflect on Lorimer’s unexpected heroism and the death it preceded. This one bashed Jon’s sword aside with a fist armored in coral and slammed into him, nearly costing both of them their feet on the wet floor. Jon ran into a hook, its sharp point seeking purchase on his clothes as the Sunken got a rusty sword up towards Jon’s chest. This time it was Jenner who came to his rescue, striking it hard on an unprotected side and bringing it down.

  Through some trick of the wavering green lights, as Jenner came into view, fearless in the face of this new and old enemy, he looked complete to Jon. Unbroken. He wore the injuries, his eye, in a manner to bring fear to the fearsome. To the enemies he crossed swords with, it didn’t speak of failure. It spoke of strength. Jon was finished underestimating the Plate’s bravery. Jenner’s bravery. Together they drove a cluster of Sunken back a few steps. Then, as smoothly as if they’d rehearsed it, both turned heel and ran for the door, just steps behind the princess and the guards who had wrapped her in a cocoon of steel.

  The Sunken were behind them as the fighting tightened down to the hallway’s width. As Cal had predicted, only two could stand side-by-side to defend the rear of the group, but the attackers were similarly confined. There was a frenzied exchange, swords banging together with minimal impact, the snarling Sunken a blade’s length away. Jon and Jenner tried to keep out of each other’s way as the Sunken threw themselves at the escaping group which had stolen their Lord’s prize. They were ready to spend their lives on the invaders’ swords, maybe, from what Jon knew of Gale, willing to trade a clean death for a messy account of their failure.

  One of the Sunken fell, Jenner’s sword in its throat, and laid out across the hall. It slowed the advance and Jon and Jenner turned to run after the backs of the retreating Queen’s Guards, the wisp of a white dress in their midst. The cold wind blew through the halls, momentarily carrying away the stink of blood. The journey to the center of the mansion had felt long and uncertain, but they had already neared the exit and Jon could see moonlight through an open door.