Cal patted Tyrne’s neck absently, staring after Aaron. His friend had been quiet all day, reserving his only words for Locke. Did this count as a win? Or another loss? He supposed they could choose whatever narrative suited them, but in truth it was both. They’d saved the girl, which is what they’d come to do, but lost Aaron’s dragon. Gale was dead but Odell had escaped on the back of a dragon. It was hard to get precise numbers with so many of the CA riders scattered or dead, but at their best estimate Odell’s Sunken, the ones Miriam and Nalani hadn’t killed, had captured at least another three dragons. And Locke reigned below. Whether they should care about that was an open question.
Cal watched Aaron’s back, trying to imagine how it must feel to lose a dragon you’d bonded with. For a moment his hand tightened on Tyrne’s scales, but the dragon shied away, uninterested in affection. Cal wouldn’t learn what it felt like from Aaron. It was another thing they would never find an opportunity to discuss, no matter how many drinks they shared, no matter how much blood was sacrificed and shed in defense of each other. It had weight, so it would go in the pile of things forever unsaid between them.
Cal walked forward, counting on the dragon to provide them with the privacy they needed.
Aaron passed Cal the smoke as he took his place beside him. “The Camron contract is yours. If it goes to the Unflagged the Queen will be happy, Conners will know an ally holds it if he can’t, and you get some territory we both know you need.”
“I figured we’d land there eventually,” Cal said. “It will take time, transitioning.” He’d already sent messages summoning Erik and the rest of his team, currently headquartered outside Delhonne.
“I know,” Aaron said. “I could use your help hunting Odell, but I’m anticipating you’ll be delayed setting up shop here. Conners is sending more SDC resources.”
“Wouldn’t do for anyone to think they can get away with killing one of yours.” There was a long pause. “You think Locke really burned Odell’s chambers?”
“Not before he read every scrap of paper in them. But I don’t think it matters. Whatever could have been learned is lost to us.” He leaned over to look at Cal. “He killed Madame Jane, killed Brooks, killed his own messenger, unless there’s more than one Sunken who can do that thing with the water.”
“Comforting thought. Especially given I’ll be on the Plate for a while.”
“He was breaking ties. He pulled down his eyes and ears. And now he’s turned away from us. I don’t think he cares anymore.” Aaron was distracted, still staring out at the waters, probably thinking on Marsail. He rubbed at his pixie eye and reached out to reclaim the cigarette. Once he held it, he said, “I feel like, in some dark corner we’re blind to, the sides have been set. The alliances of our enemies have taken shape. And they’ll test ours.”
“We’re talking about a few rogue elements. Between the two of us, we hold most of the skies of the kingdoms.”
“But that spreads us thin. It leaves so much space. Shadows to hide our enemies. A thousand other priorities and conflicts to distract us. We’ve got too much to protect. Locke called us the enemies of my enemy’s new friends. That means Chalk. And they’re out there somewhere.” He was going to say more, but he broke off as they heard another dragon approaching.
Miriam landed on the pier behind them, a riderless dragon beside the one she sat atop. Aaron looked at her, then the dragon, a small grimace creeping onto his face, feeling the loss of Marsail. He passed the cigarette back to Cal and walked to Miriam. The hunt was ready and the motivation for his current prey was a promise to a dead friend. He didn’t bother with a farewell to his living one, and in moments they were gone and Cal was alone at the end of the cold pier.
In a few moments, he’d turn back, seek out Nalani and find comfort back at her apartment. But for now, Cal thought on what Aaron said. He nodded slowly, staring out at the harbor waters, choppy from the recent rains. “No doubt about that,” he said softly. “They’re out there somewhere.”
…
Odell directed his dragon to land on the small plateau, near-perfectly level and round with the sides sloping sharply down to the endless rocky floor. He could see two dragons and two dark shapes, his new allies, waiting below.
The light of the stars bathed the plateau. The fires were unlit, no problem for Odell, who had grown used to the darkness below the Plate and had only recently learned the struggles he would face in the sun. His day had been spent hiding under the wing of his dragon out on the flatlands. He’d lacked the foresight to arrange shelter. No matter. He would learn the ways of his new world quickly. Then he would enslave it.
One shape sat, crosslegged, on the ground before Odell. The other lurked in the faint shadow of its dragon, the beast blocking what little light fell on the plateau. The lonely space was otherwise empty aside from a few carefully spaced firepits and the broken remnants of what looked to be a whiskey bottle.
“For you come alone?” Barbayir asked, the breath of his voice only slightly shifting the hair which hung in front of his face like a curtain. The Borhele spy was naked from the waist up. His smooth, leathery skin looked so dry as to repel water, in contrast to Odell’s, which looked like it sucked water from the air, desperate to retain some dampness. “How many dragons did you escape with?”
“Have we begun the exchange?” Odell asked coldly. “What price for my answer?”
“For it is curiosity only. I do not care.” Barbayir looked towards the third shadow. “Before the exchange begins, you are due a toast, Sunken Lord Odell Gale.” He reached to his side and produced a wineskin. He squeezed a measure into three small cups. Odell took the cup Barbayir held out. Both turned to the shadow.
As the Chalk stepped away from his dragon, Odell noted there were breaks in the thick white powder which coated its skin. Patterns and swirls not unlike the darkine. The exposed skin was pink, like a human’s. The Awakened Chalk had long black hair and wore finely patterned, dark clothing. Ulsor Vinn took the third cup from Barbayir.
“A drink. A toast,” Barbayir said, raising his glass. “To the death of Aaron Lorne’s dragon. May it be the first of many.”
The Chalk gave a dark grin, but each of the three held their cups in place, none willing to drink in the presence of the others for risk of poison.
“Enough games,” Ulsor Vinn said, letting the grin die on his face. His voice was low, words twisted with a strange accent. He stepped forward and let the cup fall to the ground where it rattled to a halt, sound carrying out across the flatlands. He removed a small vial, filled with red liquid, from his pocket. “We have business.”
THE END
Author’s Notes
Thanks for joining in on Cal and Aaron’s third adventure. If this was your first Spies of Dragon and Chalk book, I’d recommend taking a look at Night of the Chalk, the Rise of the Falsemarked, and the free short story Hour of the Borhele, which takes place between this book’s prologue and the first chapter.
My book The Fire Eye Refugee is also available, a journey across the Sea of Colors to a similar setting (but sans dragons) where a spy must face her past or die in exile.
To learn more about me and other titles, please visit samuelgately.com and sign up for the mailing list.
Leave a review or tell a friend about the book if you’ve got time. Always appreciated.
Cheers.
- Sam
Alliance of the Sunken (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 3) Page 26