Chapter 8. Just a Few Drinks
After unloading the injured dragon, Aaron did what little he could to dress the wound. He tried to placate the other dragons in the stables. There was a large barn in the center of the compound. Aaron had led them into it and allowed them to inspect it and scratch the hay into piles which they lay on. Shortly afterwards they all appeared to be asleep. From the rapt way Dan, the owner of the stables, had watched the entire process, Aaron and Cal suspected they had found a valuable ally.
Cal checked the perimeter with Vander and Erik but quickly found everything to be in place. He let Vander set the guards. They included two men on loan from the Home Guard. He returned to the barn to talk money with Dan. Dan, never taking his eyes off the dragons, was clearly willing to bend over backwards to keep their business. They quickly settled on a week’s rate of two hundred gold and an agreement to renegotiate at the end of the week.
Dan volunteered to care for the dragons as much as possible. His enthusiasm was not shared by his two stable boys, who kept eyeing the exits. Cal urged Dan and the boys to stay at the stables for a few days until the excitement had died down and to take a guard with them on any supply runs.
The stables had three buildings and an open yard for exercise. The buildings included a small office with Dan’s living quarters above it, a long stable hall with about thirty stalls on either side, all of which had been emptied. A large barn next to the yard. A solid ten-foot wooden wall surrounded the compound and a cistern was in the center.
It was obvious the stables had not been doing well financially. Much of it was in disrepair. But Cal recognized the signs of hard work and pride in the well-maintained office, the smoothly sanded beams of the barn, and the few clean stalls that had been occupied a few hours ago. He learned from Dan that ten horses had been relocated to nearby inns, which typically maintained their own smaller stables. Cal suspected Dan had been barely scraping by before tonight. His stables were not fashionable enough for the nobles to keep show horses and were too far away from the city gates to attract many travelers.
Cal got Dan’s permission to bring in some workmen to fortify the gates and walls in the morning. He put Kellen in charge of organizing the work, reminding him to only use trustworthy men and to keep them away from the dragons as much as possible. He also told him to return to the Mast House in the morning. From there he could scrounge up a few pieces of furniture and one of the housekeepers to help set up slightly better accommodations. There was a lofted space over the southern half of the barn that could house a table, chairs, and a few sleeping pallets.
Aaron and Cal then left to get a drink, taking Erik and another guard with them. The crowd was still milling around outside the stables. In the case of some small groups, the junior member had been left watching while the others had found nearby watering holes. Cal led the way to the one such place, The Old Bellows, and the crowd more or less followed.
When they arrived, the bar had maybe ten locals downing pints. Aaron headed for a table in the back. Cal bought a bottle of whiskey from the barman. He managed to talk the barman into three glasses. Most drinks were served in clay to keep costs down. Clay was more common than glass, but the tradeoff for their cheapness was a ruined whiskey. Cal settled into the table, pouring Aaron and himself several fingers of the brown liquor. Erik stood in front of the table, separating them from the slowly growing crowd.
They sipped in silence and watched the bar fill up with the same mix of soldiers, spies, and merchants who had been shadowing them all night. “How long do you think we can keep them away from the table?” Aaron asked.
“I’d guess we’ve got about ten minutes before the pushiest get past Erik,” Cal replied, then hesitated. “I don’t know. They seem less enthused. They might be finally figuring out they may not want to be publicly seen with us. Most of the action now is probably happening elsewhere.” Cal’s mind drifted back to the study of the DeFlorre mansion. He’d love to hear what was being discussed there now, and know who was in the room. “Maybe if we open a Talent that’ll buy us a few extra minutes,” Cal said while rolling a cigarette on the table.
Talent was a game well known and loved by the Corvale and other tribes of the eastern plains. Aaron, Cal and everyone they had traveled with played it extensively. It could be played in the dirt or on a tabletop. The board was defined by a series of interlocking diamonds. Aaron removed a charcoal pencil from his pocket and started marking the intersections on the table. He also laid on the table a handful of black ivory playing pieces with varying striped patterns and a single black die with white pips.
The game served a dual purpose. Most of the time it was merely a way to pass the time, a battle of wits. The game simulated a war, with pieces advancing, retreating, and attacking in the manner of armies. For the Corvale and others of the initiated, however, it was frequently used as a mechanism to strategize and simulate the real-world dangers they faced. By naming the diamonds as real locations and the pieces as standing and moving armies or threats, warriors and scouts could share intelligence and develop responses to scenarios. One of the keys to the effectiveness of Talent was that one of the party was almost always representing the enemy.
As Aaron prepared the board, Cal asked about the dragons. “How do they communicate? How intelligent are they?”
Aaron looked off into the distance. He scattered a handful of pieces across the board. The scatter signaled that he would be setting the board in its entirety based on his latest knowledge of the military players. “I’ve spent a lot of time with them and I’m still not sure. They respond amazingly well to direction, almost to the point you wonder if they’re reading your mind. In some ways, they mimic your emotion, if you are angry, they’ll be angry, if you’re scared, they’ll tighten up. And they clearly understand a lot about us. They can read the marks. They respect warriors, respect marks like yours and mine. They seem to be a warrior culture. There was some link between them and the Corvale that I don’t fully understand, probably no one alive does. But as far as intelligence goes, I mean, they just don’t seem to care about the things we care about. They live for the moment, for the kill. They don’t care about tomorrow.”
Aaron laughed. “I tried to teach one to read. When that didn’t work I tried a sort of sign language. Neither went well. I almost lost an arm. But they love to fly and they don’t mind carrying a rider. They are in a lot of ways like a tool, a sword. They’re a weapon. And they like that role. Seek it out. Which makes it troubling that I’m not the only one with dragons.”
He looked over at Cal. “Speaking of riders, I suspect you’re really going to like your dragon. I think you’ll connect with the one who examined your marks. He’ll be just your style, fast, high-flying. I think he even got a kill tonight. And he seems to like you. I thought he’d think you were too ugly.”
“Does he have a name?” Cal asked, not really sure how to respond to a gift of that magnitude. He downed the rest of his glass and poured them both another.
“We’ll go for a flight tomorrow. The dragons all have names, but you have to really connect with the right dragon to learn his name. It will just come to you if you’re the right fit. Like a bond. The one I’ve ridden most often is Marsail. I’d guess you can name your dragon tomorrow, and somehow it will just be right.”
“So why the Corvale link? Where did that come from?” Cal asked.
Aaron nodded and placed a piece on the board near its eastern edge. “They came to us at the Tower of Sidvale,” he said. “The Dura Mati and I were at the top, basically waiting to die. The Chalk had surrounded it and were starting up the stairs. Then we saw them in the distance. It was the Eve of Shadarand, the old Corvale holiday. I wanted to spend it in the tower like the Corvale of old had done. We watched the dragons get closer and closer while we held off the Chalk. When the dragons arrived, ten of them, we just jumped on their backs. They flew north with us all night. The Frome Mountains.” Aaron slid another piece onto the board. “They eventua
lly landed on some high plateau. We saw about sixty dragons all gathered. There was an old man called Jaster, some kind of lore master. He just about died of shock when he saw us. Apparently the dragons visit the Tower once every few years but had not returned with riders for more than twenty years. They all examined my marks and did something sort of like an allegiance oath. Then…” Aaron kind of trailed off, sipping at his drink and positioning Talent pieces to represent the dragon army.
Cal finally broke the silence. “The Tower of Sidvale is destroyed.”
Aaron started. “Is it?” As Cal nodded, he asked, “You were there?”
“Yeah, I dragged Sleepy Jon out there when you hadn’t returned after a year. We made it as far as the Tower but it was an ugly scene. Looked like we were narrowly missing Chalk at every turn.”
“I’m impressed you got that close. I was dodging patrols the whole time. I think they knew about the Eve of Shadarand. I think they know a lot more than we ever imagined.” Aaron began arranging pieces in the Ashlands, representing the Chalk. Then he set up the standing armies of the states and city-states surrounding Delhonne. Finally, he placed the last several pieces to the south. “The minotaur. The Dura Mati is there now. We’ll try to meet him around here,” he circled a location to the southeast of Delhonne with his finger, “tomorrow or the night after.”
Aaron leaned back as Cal leaned forward. Something made him look up. He caught the eyes of a beautiful woman, a waitress judging by her white shirt and black apron, with shoulder length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had been hovering near them, though they already had a bottle and there was no shortage of men calling for drinks at other tables. She was stunning, far too stunning to work in a place like this. Aaron sighed. She had seen his gesture on the board and paid it extra attention. It would be difficult for her to learn anything from the seemingly random placement of the pieces, but her interest was problematic.
He slid his hand across the board, scattering the pieces. “Too public for much more. So what’s next, aside from another bottle?”
Cal replied, “The person I’d really like to talk with is Sleepy Jon. After that I can start kissing the rings of several carefully chosen representatives who happen to be hovering out there. And food, we could use food.” Cal stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and slid into the crowd.
Chapter 9. Blood on the Floor
Aaron watched Cal go, hoping no one seized the opportunity to sit down next to him. Though he might not mind talking to the waitress, spy or no. It had been too long since he had talked with a woman like that.
He rubbed at his pixie eye. Tonight had been a disaster. Only Cal’s appearance had saved him from losing everything he’d worked for. He might have bribed or fought his way out of Delhonne, but it would have cost him much more than gold.
The attack had been swift and brutal. Aaron’s dragons were flying in a V-shape. The sky was dark and cold, lights of Delhonne in the distance. He rode Marsail, who was positioned second to the leader. On the front dragon, he grew exhausted fighting the wind. If he rode the third he was too far back to direct the group. The cold air rushed down Aaron’s lungs. The rhythmic beating of the wings had lulled him into a dreamlike state, staring at Delhonne to the southwest. He was lost in a swirl of memories, evenings gambling and chasing women, bleeding in the alley beside the Corvale House. A twinkling of the stars to the west caught his eye. But it hadn’t really been a twinkling. Something had slid in front of the stars, blocking their light. As those stars returned, others vanished. A dark cloud? Aaron tensed. Something else? A moment later the dragons tightened their formation and several made small pivots of their heads to look west. Now Aaron saw the outlines of the black shapes blotting out the lights. There were four, no wait, five, an even match, and they could only be dragons. Even at a great distance, they radiated hostility.
The enemy flight had the advantage of altitude and, most likely, of rest. Aaron’s flight had already been in the air for several hours. He wouldn’t have pushed them so hard but he planned to stop east of Delhonne. As the enemy dragons slid into a pacing position, Aaron realized his plans would have to change.
The game played itself out slowly. Aaron steadily lost ground over the next ten minutes. The higher enemy dragons had a better draft and were silently easing closer. The only sounds were the gentle flapping of long, scaly wings. Aaron turned back to study his hunters. Now in the moonlight, he could clearly see the five dragons, also in a V shape. They could have been siblings with his dragons, of similar size, color, and overall appearance. The only difference was that these had some sort of white paint around their eyes and down their snouts. It created a ghoulish impression. Fear surfaced in Aaron, just as it did any time he encountered potential evidence of the Chalk.
He was tense in anticipation of his first fight on dragonback. He took himself through his typical prefight progression. He considered the terrain, the timing, his allies, the enemy. The exercise made him feel alone. His allies were dragons. His enemies were dragons. He was the only human who would ever know what happened here tonight. There was a good chance he would die, ripped off the back of his dragon by talons and thrown down to the dark ground below. The fall would take ages. He’d have time to ponder all the mistakes he made, the chances he’d squandered, the deaths he’d never avenge.
Aaron knew little in terms of aerial battle tactics, but he did know it never really paid to go the direction your enemy wanted you too. He turned Marsail to the south and the flight followed, pointing them towards Delhonne. The reaction from the enemy flight was immediate. They moved swiftly to take advantage of the angle, giving up altitude for the sake of speed. Aaron saw the more aggressive course as an endorsement of his choice of direction. If they wanted him to stay clear of the city, he would go to the city. It was as good of a place to die as any.
A new leg in the race had begun. There was never any doubt the enemy hunters would catch up. Aaron was nearly above the city gates when the deadly groups finally collided. Two of the lead enemy dragons fell on the dragon behind Aaron, shrieking loudly as they did. Marsail banked sharply, as did the other dragons of Aaron’s group. Chaos ensued. Marsail struck at one of the enemy who was occupied with the dragon below him, leading with his talons, grasping the dragon’s torso. Marsail tensed his spine, coiling up. Then he snapped his head forward to take a nasty bite out of the enemy’s back. By now Aaron had his sword out and was able to slash the wing of one of the other enemy wheeling past. The whole group careened wildly, losing altitude.
Another of the enemy dragons slammed into Marsail from above, the scaly wing smothering Aaron and nearly knocking him off to his death. The dragon caught grip of Marsail’s back and reared back to drive his other talon into Marsail’s shoulder. Marsail screamed in rage and pain and bucked violently. Aaron couldn’t hold on and tumbled off the dragon’s back. For a moment he was falling, then he crashed into the enemy dragon and spun off again. The group of dragons splintered, leaving Aaron to clutch at the air as he fell. But another dragon, one of his, was just below, and he managed to throw his arms out and grab its neck as he flew by. The dragon was hurt and losing altitude. Aaron positioned himself as best he could on the struggling, frantic mount. He clung to the neck, willing the beast to turn and fight to keep them from falling to their death. The dragon fought to regain its level, but Aaron realized they were still falling due to its injury. They spun towards the city lights.
Cal returned, breaking up Aaron’s unpleasant ruminations. He brought a fresh bottle of whiskey and two bowls of food, a mixture of beef, peppers, and rice. “This guy wanders the bars with a food cart. I love him. I told him to get over to the stables and feed the crew. He’s pretty excited for the business so he might just beat all the people who will be trying to poison us.” They both ate quickly in the manner of experienced soldiers, a part of Aaron still falling from the skies above Delhonne.
The waitress appeared to silently take their empty bowls. Cal gave her an appreciative lo
ok as she walked away, then spotted Sleepy Jon across the bar. “Finally,” he said, half-rising to catch Jon’s eye and gesturing to the open chair and the third glass. He poured Jon a few fingers of whiskey. Aaron watched Jon weave gracefully, especially for a man of his size, across the room.
Jon sank heavily into the chair. “Gentlemen, how may I be of service?”
“You can start by having a drink,” Cal replied. “Do we look like we’re in a hurry?”
Jon snorted as he accepted the glass Cal offered. “You probably should be. I hope I’m not the first to tell you there’s a contract out on you. And Cullmore won’t like what you did to the Weyler brothers. He’ll add to your bounty.”
“No,” Cal replied. “You’re far from the first.”
“So where are these dragons I’ve heard about?”
“You know exactly where they are,” Cal said. “What took you so long?”
“It’s hard to get me out of bed these days. The new baby wakes us early. These days my bed is not quite as comfortable as, say, the bed of Daria DeFlorre,” Sleepy Jon said straight-faced.
“I think her name was Darlene, actually,” Cal said.
Sleepy Jon looked down at his glass, then up at Aaron. “How are you, Aaron? Good to see you not dead. Your friend has been a miserable pox on this city in your extended absence.” He paused. “You look tired. Long journey?”
“Good to see you too, Sleepy. I understand you accompanied this insufferable bastard to the edge of the Ashlands. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you both in the loop more.”
“These things happen,” Jon replied. “So what’s the score? How can I help you guys?”
Cal said, “We set Vander and a couple city soldiers on guard duty, they should hold up for a couple days. Don’t really know what we’re dealing with. We know Aaron was attacked earlier by five dragons, probably directed by someone in Delhonne. I’d say you could start by finding out who’s been hiding dragons in or around Delhonne. And squash any new plots to kill us before they crop up.”
Night of the Chalk (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 1) Page 5
