They burst through moments later, running up a few steps to the estate’s wide lawns. Jon stopped in surprise at the sight of Shay, standing off to one side, surrounded by several handfuls of stray dogs, all shapes and sizes.
“The gate!” he yelled, but she raised a hand to quiet him.
The Sunken came through the door, and a howl rose from deep in the throats of the dogs around Shay. As one they all leapt to attack the Sunken, teeth sinking into green flesh as they pulled them to the ground. The Sunken shrieked in fear and rage.
Jon’s head spinning, he frantically looked around, trying to prioritize the next steps.
Shay walked to him. She spoke calmly, as though a pack of wild dogs weren’t tearing their way through an army of Sunken just behind them. “Front gate’s open, Finn’s holding it.”
“What?” he said, eyes wide. He turned back to see the dogs mercilessly ravaging the Sunken crew.
“Turns out they don’t care much for Sunken,” Shay said. “The word spread and what was meant to be a small distraction got a little out of hand.”
He let his sword fall to his side. “Should we help them?”
“You’re sweet,” she gave him a grin, “but they don’t need any help.”
Jon took a moment to tally his people. He was missing only Cal of the crew he went in with. The Queen’s Guards had accounted themselves well. Shay had done far better than that. The only one who had fallen to the Sunken, assuming Cal was able to emerge alive from his face-off with Gale, was Lorimer. Jon wondered if anyone would mourn the Maritime vet. He wondered if the Queen would care. She’d shown little sympathy for the death of her spirit guide. She used every tool at her disposal for the return and safety of her daughters. And wouldn’t he have done the same? Would he have cried over broken tools if he gained one of his children back? The difference between Jon and Lorimer in the end had proven to be the people around them. Jon had come to the battle with Gale surrounded by those who had earned his trust. Lorimer had come alone, and that was how he’d died.
“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Shay gestured to the princess, who was standing still in the center of the milling, confused Queen’s Guards, swords at the ready for a fight that just seemed to have vanished.
Jon walked over to her. There was something regal about her stance, as though the hard years under the Plate had only strengthened her. As though this outcome had never been in doubt. Jon followed the princess’s gaze towards the sky. The clouds had cleared and the moon sat, full and naked, between them. She turned to look at Jon, a smile on her lips, eyes quiet with tears, and he paused, lowering his blood-splattered sword, to simply look back at her for a moment. She was indeed beautiful, a reflection of her mother’s handsome face.
“Welcome back, Princess,” Jon said quietly.
She gave a small nod of thanks, then turned her eyes back up towards the sky as Jon began gathering the others.
Chapter 36. Cleaning Up
The Sunken in the courtyard were tightening their circle, closing in on the pair of women. The fires raged around them. The stones at their feet were stained with blood.
“What was the first lesson I taught you?” Miriam asked.
“Really?” Nalani replied. “You’re going to give a lesson right now?”
“Now’s the best time for a lesson. Learning in action.”
Nalani held her knife before her, occasionally feinting forward, trying to press the circle back. The Sunken were moving slowly, sharp teeth bared. “Let’s see, first lesson. Figure out what they want to see and show them that.”
“Exactly,” Miriam said, managing to summon a teacherly tone of approval. “So why are you still holding your knife as if you know how to use it?”
Nalani gave her a quick glance. The Corvale had no visible weapon. Her body language was timid, afraid. That of a terrified woman, helpless in the grips of her fear. Nalani took a breath and lowered her knife.
“Very good,” Miriam said. One of the Sunken nearest her moved close and suddenly Miriam leapt forward, producing a thin knife and burying it in his throat. She screamed as though horrified by what she’d done, staring at the blood which spilled out, then took off running. Several of the Sunken gave chase.
Nalani’s gaze snapped back to the remaining Sunken. “Learning in action indeed,” she muttered. She forced her hands to tremble. “Please,” she moaned, “don’t hurt me.” As the Sunken came forward, she leapt to the side, dropping to one knee. She slashed the back of the leg of the nearest Sunken, caught unaware, who fell thrashing to the ground. She jumped over his body towards another. When he got his blade up in defense, she instead pivoted and attacked a third whose sword was drawn back, ready to strike. She slid her knife smoothly into his neck and ducked around him, again lowering the knife to her side as he fell, adopting a confused and fearful expression. There were only two left, if she didn’t count the badly injured one writhing on the ground.
The Sunken in front of her didn’t know what to think now. What had looked like easy prey had just felled much of their group. They hesitated. Behind them, Nalani saw two of the Sunken escaping on dragons. It seemed they’d earned enough status through Anders’ murder, or the murder of the other CA riders, to charm a pair of mounts. In the distance she saw Miriam squaring off with another of their enemies. Nalani recognized the hunch in her shoulders as she stalked in the low fighting stance the Corvale favored.
It had been more than two years since Miriam had set Nalani up as a resident SDC agent in Surdoore. The work had been mostly quiet, apart from the training sessions when Miriam came to town. Those were intense, starting with the art of wrapping men and women around a finger. Once Nalani had demonstrated sufficient skill in that area, the lessons had grown more fun. Miriam always stressed direct confrontation as a last resort, a failing of the maneuvering and deception which was her bread and butter. The lessons on the direct had always been Nalani’s favorite. Lessons on fighting your way out of a corner when your plans fell apart.
Miriam had seen the potential in her and pushed her hard. They were not friends exactly, but they’d formed a bond. That bond had deepened after one particular evening when some work with a merchant syndicate had gone south. Miriam had been on the Plate to learn more about their alliances in Delhonne. Nalani and Miriam had gotten the boss’s son and his friends to show them into the syndicate headquarters after hours, but before they could begin collecting any intel, one of the group had grown suspicious of the blonde foreigner in their midst. Convinced she worked for a rival group, he’d put Miriam down with an unexpected blow. He’d been right that she was a spy, wrong about her loyalties. Miriam was out of the fight long enough for her pupil to prove her value. Nalani had drawn enough blood to frighten off the group of hard men.
After waking on a cold stone floor, her heart still beating only thanks to Nalani, Miriam’s brittle shell had cracked. The two had grown closer. The lessons had not gotten easier. If anything, they intensified. Finally, after close to two years in her service, Nalani was given the job of surveilling the primary SDC interest on the Plate. The CA. Starting with its leader, whose blood was now spilling out onto the stones at their feet.
Nalani’s expression darkened as she looked at the Sunken in front of her. “Fuck this,” she said. “Anders may not have been my favorite person, but he deserved better. I think it’s your turn to be afraid.” She pulled out a second knife and ran towards them.
Nalani’s sudden move caught the Sunken off guard. Once she was between them, she launched a perfect spin, one knife held high, the other low. It drove them both back and when she returned smoothly to center, she leapt sideways, burying both knives into one of the Sunken. She turned back to the other and tossed one of the bloody knives towards him. He took the bait and reflexively swung at it. His blade out of position, she quickly closed and drove her remaining knife up under his chin. The creature fell back, rolling awkwardly as his darkine hit the ground and tossed him to the side. Nalani calmly stud
ied the dark blood on her knife’s blade.
“Not exactly what I was looking for,” Miriam said. She was standing to the side, leaning against one of the low walls surrounding the courtyard’s fountain. Nalani could see more dead Sunken behind her.
“Well,” Nalani said. “Sometimes a girl’s got to have her own style.”
Miriam responded with a smile.
Both women turned at the sound of flapping wings. A large, black dragon landed in the center of the courtyard. It gave a disdainful, prideful look at the confused mass of dragons on the fringes of the fight, then turned and regally regarded Miriam.
“Tyrne,” Miriam said. “We could have used you a couple minutes ago.” She walked forward and reached out a hand to caress the dragon’s snout. After meeting his eyes for a moment, she leapt onto his back. “I’ll help you find Cal, but for now let’s see if we can track down Aaron.”
She gave a nod to Nalani, then flew out towards the harbor. The quiet courtyard darkened below her as the falling rains finally bested the flames of the burning towers.
Chapter 37. Fear Will Rule Them
Cal sat crosslegged on the balcony, coldly watching the room below him. Jon and Jenner had gotten out with the princess, drawing most of the remaining Sunken in pursuit. Which left Lord Gale, still resting on his throne, and just three Sunken guards, positioned throughout his new court.
He could take the first, the one closest to the door, with a knife from behind, the way he should have taken Odell as he sat at his writing desk. Little chance the other two wouldn’t hear, but something about the way they held their old, rusty swords left him unworried. Jon’s raid had taken them unaware. They were out of their element, uncertain. Gale might be different, but that was farther down the chain of problems. The hook waiting at the end.
Cal remembered Gale’s thick hand twisting his shirt and lifting him off the ground, the rough coral scraping away the flesh of his throat and chest. The casual disdain as Gale told his guards to hook Cal. The General Michael Rouse hanging from the neighboring hook for the sin of being unafraid. He supposed he could add Lorimer to that tally. Cal was looking forward to learning what Gale could do with a sword. And then tearing him to pieces.
The commotion caused by Jon and Jenner’s escape was dying down. Now was his window. Cal unfolded his legs and quietly rose. It was quick work to circle back to the main entryway. As he crept up behind the Sunken guard, he realized they had a smell. A disgusting odor of damp rot. It had been everywhere under the Plate, inescapable, a part of the miserable package. Above the Plate, contrasted with the night air, it felt wrong.
The guard was inattentive, letting Cal draw within a step before he finally turned. A quick downward slash of his knife bit deeply into the pale, green flesh of his neck. The Sunken made a weak swing at Cal, which he dodged. He circled a few steps, kicked the creature in the back of one leg, bringing him down to his knees, then buried the knife in his head, just next to the rocky, coral crest which rose out of the center of his skull.
Cal released the knife and drew his sword. Rather than wait for the other guards to close, he ran towards the nearest, aware that Gale’s eyes followed him. Cal swung wide, giving the second guard a chance to clumsily parry the blow. Then he spun low, taking out the opposite leg with a sweep. As the guard fell to the floor, Cal moved behind him, placing the fallen Sunken between himself and the remaining guard. The other guard hesitated at the obstacle, which gave Cal sufficient time to drive his sword down in a two-handed thrust, piercing the fallen Sunken’s body. Cal locked eyes with Gale as he did, noting a hint of a smile on the risen Lord’s lips. Uncaring about the death of his men, he was enjoying the show.
Cal squared off with the third guard. He hammered two overhand strikes in, then feinted at a third. When the guard let his blade stray out of position, Cal pivoted into a straight thrust, ignoring the foul blood which splashed over him as the Sunken fell dead at his feet. He turned and looked at Gale.
“The updweller returns,” Gale said mockingly. He was holding a thick hook in his hands, which he scraped against the coral on his arm, filling the room with a grating noise. His black crown sat atop his head, gleaming in the green light of the Sunken lanterns hung throughout the room. Gale rose, his arms spread wide. “Have you come to pay homage to the new House Gale? Mast of House Mast of Castalan. My first noble audience above the Plate.” Gale made a loving gesture towards an empty hook next to his makeshift throne. “I might give you the honor of hanging beside me. For a time only, of course, before you begin to rot.”
Cal looked around. “This place is a dump. And no one cares about your return. You ruled the underside of the Plate. Now you’re the ruler of an abandoned shack. And no one cares.”
Gale’s smile widened. “I am the Lord Grinwell Gale VII. I did rule below the Plate. And now I will rule above it. This is a beginning.”
“Looks more like an overdue ending to me. Your army doesn’t seem to be holding up too well above the Plate. Maybe if it hadn’t been split in half you’d be doing better.”
“The army is not important. Only I am important. None can best me. Those who try will dangle or feed the threshers. But all but a few will lack the courage. Fear will trap them in their houses, trembling as the wind shakes their shutters.”
“Arrogant fucker, aren’t you? There’s bravery to spare up here. Stick around and you’ll learn that the hard way.”
“Who?” Gale asked. “Him?” He gestured to Lorimer, then gave him a gentle push, setting the large body to swinging back and forth. Gale stepped forward to another body. “This one?” He pushed it. “Those who find the heart to defy me will find themselves,” he reached out and grabbed another body with his hook, “right here.” He pulled it close to him then released it, setting it to swing back and forth like the others. The large room was filled with the creaking of long chains. “Soon they’ll decorate my new domain and remind my new subjects of the consequences of meeting my eyes.” He grabbed a lantern hanging at the end of a long chain and held it to his face. “A lesson you will learn, updweller.” He pushed the lantern away, setting it to swing, its green light dancing among the whirling shadows.
Gale was approaching Cal, stepping down from the elevated stage, pushing each hooked body as he passed. “I will rule through fear. And more will follow me and replace any weakness in my army. Fear will be their motivation, survival their reward. What worked below the Plate will work above it.” He moved with that same liquid speed Cal had observed under the Plate. “Cowardice is as inevitable as the tides. My dominion is inevitable. As is your death.”
Cal watched the approaching Lord, the bodies swinging behind him. The cost of his arrogance. Well, two could play that game. Cal pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his marks to the cold, green light. “Come on, then. Let’s discuss the inevitable.” In his mind, the memory of Gale grabbing him, lifting him off the ground, had swelled into a quiet roar of rage. His jaw was clenched, his lips curled back. The blood in his head was beating out a rhythm, matched by the creaking of the swaying dead all around him.
The floor was made of tightly fitted boards, and as Gale drew his sword, Cal noted the Sunken’s bare feet. Better footing among all the water and blood this thing had dragged up from below. Cal slid off his own boots, feeling the wood grain beneath his toes, smooth like the deck of a ship. The swinging bodies behind Gale added to the sense that they were at sea, on a wet and dark vessel far from any others. And that was fine. Cal was a son of Castalan and that meant he was at his most dangerous on the lonely waters.
Gale’s sword was out, long and clean. In his other hand, he still held a hook. He was a head taller than Cal, his menacing crest rising even higher.
Cal gripped the sword he’d gotten from the Castalan Embassy that night so many years ago. The night his partner had returned to Delhonne with dragons by his side and enemies at his heels. The same sword that had killed a dragon and had lain at the bottom of a tunnel with a dead army of Chalk s
oldiers. Now the sword had made the journey back to him, and he raised it between himself and the Sunken Lord. All thoughts of the princess, the kidnapping were far from Cal’s mind. Ideas of escape, alliance, and strategy fell away from the blood beating in his head. Just the memory of Gale grabbing him, twisting his shirt, lifting him off the ground. That was enough. That was his motivation.
As they closed, the howling of a pack of wild dogs rose off in the distance.
Chapter 38. A Setter of Traps
Odell fled east across the edge of the Plate, Aaron fast on his tail. The night sky had cleared, the full moon shining down on the two riders. Odell’s darkine, aglow with green paint along its fringes, marked him clearly a few hundred feet ahead of Aaron. Odell flew confidently for one new to dragons, but his beast was no match for Marsail. It was just a matter of time before Aaron pulled him from the skies.
Of course, there was the question of where he was going. Odell clearly had a destination in mind. He’d wasted no time, flying a half mile out over the harbor before turning east. It was a wise move, limiting the potential for other reinforcements sighting them from Surdoore and intercepting. After that first maneuver, they had been going straight east. They were just past the curve of the Plate where it joined solid land when Aaron saw the first of the columns.
From out of the waters, huge rock structures rose like fingers on a hand clutching for the skies. They ranged from tall to short, some so closely packed a man might jump the gaps, others spread far and wide. Odell was heading for them.
Reaching the first, he banked his dragon around the column. Aaron swore when he didn’t emerge on the other side. So Odell wished to hide, shedding his pursuit among the columns. If he were out of Aaron’s sight for even a brief while, the Sunken could land the dragon and seek cover. He knew the terrain and was playing out his hand.
Alliance of the Sunken (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 3) Page 23
