The Stronghold

By Ashley Abbiss

Tif, Tren and Prand have finally made it to safety ‎in the dragonfighter stronghold, but for Tif and Tren, ‎it’s not quite what they expected. ‎
On the journey there, the little family had worked ‎as a team as they fought for survival against the ‎Kaldish who were determined to stop them. ‎
Now, Prand is busy with his duties as a lord in the ‎High Command, while Tif and Tren are beginning ‎their formal training. ‎
From fighting alongside their father as equals to ‎mere apprentices, the lowest of the low, is something ‎of a comedown and they have to adapt and do it ‎quickly because they’re already behind the rest of the ‎class. ‎
It’s not all plain sailing, either. Tren finds herself ‎placed in the same dormitory cubicle as the local ‎queen bee and her gang of bullies, who take an instant ‎dislike to the interloper. ‎
She also finds herself on the wrong side of ‎stronghold politics thanks to the Kaldish knife that ‎she acquired on the way there. Life in the stronghold ‎is not starting out well.‎
Tif has his own struggles. He is still recovering ‎from the wound that almost killed him on the way ‎there, and he becomes the target of some unwanted ‎female attention, but his main problem is himself. ‎
He knows that how well he does in basic training ‎will affect the rest of his career in the dragonfighter ‎military, but he’s a person who won’t knuckle down ‎unless he has a definite goal in mind. ‎
He has no idea what he wants to do. Unless he ‎can resolve this dilemma, he may well find himself ‎without sufficient marks to allow him to follow his ‎chosen path when he does decide. He urgently needs ‎to either overcome his weakness or find a goal.‎
As the twins battle to find their place in this new ‎world, they also find out some startling things about ‎their father that they’d never known.‎
Meanwhile, out in the world beyond the ‎stronghold, war draws ever closer. When an army ‎appears right outside the stronghold, both Tif and ‎Tren find themselves on the front line, fighting to ‎protect their new home and the surrounding area.‎
At the same time, Prand is away on a mission to ‎find out more about the cryptic comments a Kaldish ‎made to Tren. What he finds may well uproot them ‎again just when they’re beginning to feel settled.‎

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Abbiss
• Release date: Feb 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005086640

Ashley Abbiss

Hello there. I’m Ashley Abbiss. ‎I live and write in beautiful New Zealand, where I live with one large dog, who looks nothing ‎like Friend from my Daughters of Destiny books. She is, however, almost as intelligent and definitely as ‎opinionated, and if she can’t quite speak in the way Friend does to Niari, that doesn’t really ‎hold her back much!‎I write fantasy, mostly of the epic variety. Let me say right up front that if you’re looking for a quick read, you’re in the wrong place. But if you like a substantial, ‎satisfying story that you can really get your teeth into, stick with me. I may have something ‎you’ll enjoy. There’s no graphic sex in my books. If that’s what you want, you’ll have to look ‎elsewhere. There is violence, and there is swearing, though mostly of the ‘s/he swore’ variety, ‎nothing overly graphic or offensive. I also write about strong, independent female characters, ‎so if your taste runs to something more macho, or something more frilly and helpless, this may ‎not be the place for you. ‎I’ve always loved wandering in different worlds, be they fantasy or science fiction, although ‎lately I tend to prefer fantasy. The only proviso is that they have to be believable worlds, ‎worlds that feel real, that have depth and scope – and they must, absolutely must be fun to ‎visit. I read for escape and entertainment, and I don’t really want to escape from this world ‎into one even grimmer. Trouble, tension, and danger I can deal with, what sort of story would ‎there be without them? Where would Pern be without Thread, Frodo without Sauron, Harry ‎Potter without Voldemort? But there has to be hope, and there has to be a light touch. Happy ‎ever after does have a lot going for it, even if initially it’s only a very small light at the end of ‎a long, dark tunnel. My personal favourites include Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy, Anne ‎McCaffrey’s Pern series, and the fantasies of David Eddings, and lately, they’ve been joined ‎by J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and a few others. Of those, David Eddings was probably my ‎greatest inspiration.‎I began to wonder if I could create my own world, one just as believable and multi-layered as ‎theirs. Could I create a world with its own history, geography, social structure, deities, and all ‎the rest? One that hung together? That a reader could believe in? It became a challenge, one I ‎really wanted to see if I could meet. So I dusted off my writing skills, learned a few more, ‎cranked up the imagination, and got busy. I’d always been good at creative writing, but ‎though I’d made a few attempts to write after I left school, none of them came to anything. ‎That was until I started writing fantasy. Suddenly, I knew I’d come home. ‎I quickly discovered that I’m not the sort of writer who can plan a book (or a world!) before I ‎start. I just can’t do it. But I can create characters, and suddenly the characters took on a ‎reality of their own and took over the stories, often to the extent that they actually surprised ‎me. And the stories worked. Their world worked. Sometimes I had to go back and fix the ‎odd contradiction, but mostly it worked and was very natural and organic. Even though my ‎first attempts were pitiful, I knew I’d found where I belong. I persevered, I learned, I wrote. ‎I discovered that the characters are key for me. Once I get them right, they tell their own ‎story. I was away. There were dark days during which my stories became my refuge, my ‎characters my friends. And I kept writing. There were happy times when I didn’t need a ‎refuge, but my characters were still my friends, and they drew me inexorably back. I kept ‎writing. ‎And now, I hope my characters may become your friends too, my worlds ones where you also ‎like to walk; perhaps even your refuge from dark days. Come join me in a world where magic ‎is real and the gods are near, where beasts talk and men and women achieve things they never ‎dreamed they could. But most of all, come and have fun! ‎Happy reading.‎Ash.‎

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE - TREN

Tren was feeling depressed. It was three days ‎since they’d arrived at the dragonfighter stronghold, ‎and so far, it wasn’t living up to her expectations. She ‎wasn’t entirely sure just what she had expected, but ‎she did know that this wasn’t it. ‎

For a start, she was alone. Her twin brother, Tif, ‎was still in the hospital recovering from the wound ‎that had nearly killed him when they and their father ‎had fought off a band of Kaldish, the assassins of the ‎dragonrider folk, on their way here. ‎

And she hadn’t seen Prand, her father, since he ‎dropped her off at the guest quarters a few hours after ‎their arrival. Tren was normally a person who enjoyed, ‎and even preferred, her own company, but for one of ‎the few times in her life, she was feeling a sharp sense ‎of loneliness. ‎

They’d become a team, she and her father and ‎brother. They’d faced death together, they’d fought ‎together, relied on one another for their very lives in ‎the last days and weeks. The experience had bonded ‎them together as never before, and now it felt terribly ‎wrong not to be with them.‎

But her brother was in the hospital getting well, ‎and her father had his duties as a lord in the Dragon ‎Force. And she was here to get the training that she ‎should have had four years ago. They each had their ‎duties and the places that they needed to be. That was ‎just the way it was now that they were finally safe in ‎the stronghold.‎

Her brother would be joining her in the training ‎centre before long, but he most probably would not be ‎assigned to the same training squad. She wasn’t sure ‎how much she would see of him since they would ‎both be busy with their training. But that couldn’t be ‎helped. War was coming. ‎

The Dragonriders, long believed defeated and ‎their dragons extinct, had rebuilt their numbers and ‎were on the move again. Tren wasn’t there to socialise, ‎she was there to train, to prepare herself for the battles ‎that were bound to come sometime in the near future. ‎

Tren and Tif hadn’t believed in the dragons, ‎thinking them extinct, and therefore they hadn’t been ‎committed to the dragonfighter cause. In fact, they’d ‎considered it ancient history, totally irrelevant. While ‎they shared their father’s pride in their family history, ‎the traditions and practices associated with that ‎history had felt rather like a millstone around their ‎necks.‎

They’d resented the traditional training their ‎father had insisted on putting them through, thinking ‎it a total waste of time. In fact, they’d felt that their ‎childhood had been stolen from them, sacrificed to ‎their crazy father’s obsession with the family legacy ‎and his consequent determination to believe in the ‎dragons in defiance of the evidence.‎

Because of that lack of belief and commitment, ‎Prand had felt unable to present the twins for formal ‎training when they turned sixteen, as should have ‎happened. The dragonfighter stronghold was top ‎secret, a necessary precaution to protect it from ‎discovery and subsequent destruction by the dragons. ‎

All dragonfighters swore an oath that they would ‎never reveal the location to anyone who wasn’t a ‎dragonfighter and committed to the cause. Tif and ‎Tren may have been born into a dragonfighter family, ‎but they weren’t committed because they didn’t ‎believe. Therefore, their father had not been confident ‎that they would respect the need for absolute secrecy ‎and so he hadn’t told them anything about the ‎stronghold.‎

They knew better now, of course, having been ‎actively hunted and seen a dragon with their own ‎eyes. Now, they were both utterly committed to ‎preparing themselves to face the dragons and the ‎dragonrider forces, the Baraniti. But, because of their ‎previous attitude, they were four years late getting to ‎their formal training. ‎

The twenty-year-old twins were going to be ‎training with a bunch of sixteen-year-olds, and Tren ‎wasn’t looking forward to it one bit. She didn’t start ‎training until the next day, but she’d already met most ‎of her squad mates because they all shared a ‎dormitory and some of them had been there when she ‎moved in. And what a giggling lot of idiots they ‎were!‎

Tren had forgotten how silly teenage girls could ‎be. Actually, come to think of it, she’d never really ‎known. It had been a couple of years since she left to ‎work in the town, but she was sure the young women ‎she’d associated with back home in the village weren’t ‎this scatty. ‎

And these were young women (she shuddered at ‎applying the term to them) who, like her, had been ‎trained from infancy to be warriors, to defend their ‎people and their religion against the incursions of the ‎Baraniti. You’d think that would lend them a certain ‎amount of gravitas, but apparently not. ‎

Tren just hoped they behaved differently in ‎training than they did in the barracks because the ‎thought of having to entrust her safety to this lot on ‎active duty made her shudder. Frankly, if this was the ‎way they behaved in the field, she’d be better off ‎alone.‎

There was supposed to be no ranking in the squad. ‎They were apprentices, after all. They hadn’t proved ‎themselves yet, so they were all equal. What counted ‎was what they achieved themselves, not who their ‎parents were. She, for instance, was simply Apprentice ‎Tirulen here, not even any family name, for precisely ‎that reason. ‎

That didn’t seem to cut much ice with the group ‎of young women with whom Tren had to share her ‎cubicle of the dormitory, though. Tren gathered that ‎they were mostly the daughters of non-commissioned ‎Ground Force troops, except for one young miss, ‎whose mother appeared to be a squire in the Dragon ‎Force.‎

The Ground Force was a regular army. They were ‎the backbone of the army, the ordinary troops and ‎administrative and service staff. Except for the ‎officers, they required no special training except in a ‎few areas like engineering and medicine and some ‎non-combat roles such as law and accounting. Any ‎other training that was required was generally done on ‎the job. ‎

Everyone started out in the Ground Force, and ‎most remained there for the duration of their careers. ‎The Dragon Force, however, was an elite unit of ‎highly-trained operatives who performed specialised ‎duties such as espionage, assassination, and fighting ‎actual dragons and dragonriders rather than just the ‎Baraniti ground forces. ‎

They were also the specialist physicians, ‎magicians, code makers and technologists. In short, if ‎a job was highly specialised and required advanced ‎training, especially if it had a large magical ‎component, it generally fell under the umbrella of the ‎Dragon Force.‎

As a consequence of her mother’s perceived status ‎as a member of the Dragon Force, this young woman, ‎Mirris, lorded it over the others like a little queen, and ‎they hung on her every word like a bunch of ‎sycophants. Tren had merely introduced herself as ‎‎‘Tren’, and Mirris seemed to assume that she ‎outranked her, too. ‎

Perhaps she thought Tren was embarrassed to ‎admit her parents’ lowly status or something. Tren ‎wouldn’t put it past her. There seemed to be a good ‎dollop of snobbery in the young woman’s make-up, ‎and people usually judged others by their own values. ‎Tren didn’t bother to disabuse her of the notion.‎

Actually, as a Dragon Force lord, Tren’s father far ‎outranked a mere squire, but she wasn’t interested in ‎playing that particular game, so the misunderstanding ‎didn’t bother her at all. Tren didn’t need her father’s ‎status to bolster her ego, and they’d all find out the ‎truth sooner or later, anyway. Meanwhile, Tren ‎intended to just get on with her training and learn all ‎she could. ‎

Tren wanted to get into the Dragon Force ‎eventually. She wanted to specialise in magic, and that ‎was the best route to doing that. But not everyone ‎was accepted. It was very much an elite unit and entry ‎was by invitation only. Even if you passed the entry ‎exam, you still may not get in. If she planned to realise ‎that ambition, she would need to put her nose to the ‎grindstone and keep it there. ‎

She’d been issued with uniforms (it appeared that ‎apprentices wore a rather drab, nondescript grey), ‎bedding, textbooks and paper and pens before being ‎led here and shown to what was to be her bunk. There ‎were four cubicles in the dormitory, with eight bunks ‎in each. Tren’s was the bottom bunk at one end, ‎tucked in the corner of the cubicle behind the door. ‎

Each bunk had a clothes chest, a narrow locker, ‎and a desk and chair associated with it. The bed above ‎hers was empty, and there were a couple of chests and ‎two desks between her and the next rank of bunks, so ‎she was more or less out on her own and isolated from ‎the others. That suited Tren just fine.‎

The chest and desk that she chose to use were also ‎out on their own, tucked in between the bunks and the ‎wall behind the door. When the door of the dormitory ‎stood open, it was quite private in there, almost a tiny ‎room of its own. Tren reckoned she’d be able to get ‎on with her work in there without being bothered by ‎anyone else. ‎

The trouble with having two desks side by side, as ‎the other one of this set was with the first one ‎associated with the next pair of bunks, was that it was ‎too easy to get chatting, or even just be distracted by ‎the comings and goings of the next person and lose ‎one’s concentration. Tren couldn’t afford to do that.‎

She was already behind the rest of the squad. This ‎group had started training almost two weeks ago. ‎Ideally, Tren should have waited until the next intake, ‎but with the Baraniti on the move and war coming, ‎she’d been encouraged to join this intake and catch up ‎as she went along. ‎

She had been offered the choice to wait if she ‎wished, but that would have been tantamount to an ‎admission that she didn’t feel up to the challenge, and ‎she rather thought that wouldn’t have been the best ‎way to start out. Not for someone with the ambitions ‎she had, anyway. Besides, what would she do with ‎herself for several weeks until a new intake started? ‎

She’d jumped at the chance, confident that she ‎could catch up the academic side of things fairly ‎quickly. All she had to do was knuckle down and put ‎in the work. She knew she had a good brain, and she ‎was fairly sure she wouldn’t want to spend much time ‎socialising with her fellow squad members. Not only ‎were they so much younger, but she wasn’t much into ‎socialising at any time. It shouldn’t be a problem.‎

And she wasn’t worried at all about the physical ‎training. After all, she’d been trained by her father, ‎who she now knew to be one of the best, if not the ‎best warrior she’d ever seen, she’d worked as a town ‎guard, and she’d already, along with her father and ‎brother, fought and defeated two groups of Kaldish. ‎She had a good grounding in the basics, she was fit, ‎she was experienced. She had little doubt that she ‎could cope.‎

Now, she straightened from making up her bed, ‎folded her underwear and toiletries into her chest, ‎hung her cloak and spare uniform in the locker and ‎followed it with the backpack that contained her ‎personal belongings. ‎

Then she removed her knife. They weren’t ‎allowed to carry weapons of any kind except when ‎they were explicitly required for training. Tren felt ‎naked without her knife, but she could quite see the ‎reasoning behind the restriction. ‎

With so many people living in close proximity, ‎there were bound to be disagreements from time to ‎time and they could quickly spiral into something ‎much more serious if both parties were armed. If ‎nothing else, her experience as a town guard had ‎taught her that. Even the most even-tempered of ‎people could become violent if provoked far enough. ‎

She took the knife out of its sheath to check it ‎over before putting it away. The blade seemed a little ‎dull, so she sat on the bed and got out her sharpening ‎stone. She could just imagine the ruckus if she turned ‎up at training with a dull blade. Best to do this before ‎she put it away. That way, she wouldn’t forget.‎

‎What’s that? a voice said behind her. ‎

Tren looked up from her work to find Mirris and ‎her group of acolytes standing there staring at her ‎knife. Ah, so they were going to challenge her now, ‎were they? She’d been wondering how long it would ‎take them. She’d thought they’d wait a bit, but she ‎guessed the knife was just too big a temptation. It was ‎quite distinctive.‎

‎It’s my knife, Tren said. What does it look ‎like?‎

‎It’s got a dragon on it, one of the girls said ‎accusingly.‎

‎Yes, Tren said evenly, not bothering to look up ‎from what she was doing. It does. In fact, it has two. ‎There’s another one on the pommel cap.‎

‎Let me see it! Mirris demanded, holding out a ‎hand.‎

‎No, Tren said.‎

She heard a concerted gasp from the other girls. ‎Mirris herself looked rather as though she’d just been ‎slapped. Apparently, she wasn’t used to being ‎refused. ‎

‎I beg your pardon? Mirris said, drawing herself ‎up in what was most probably an attempt to imitate ‎her mother.‎

‎I said no, Tren said. I have no intention of ‎handing you my knife.‎

She wondered what Mirris would do now. She ‎rather thought her flat ‘no’ had convinced her that ‎asking again would only result in embarrassment, and ‎grabbing for a naked blade that had just been ‎sharpened wouldn’t be wise. The thing hung there for ‎long seconds.‎

‎You shouldn’t have that, Mirris said. Everyone ‎will think it’s a dragonrider knife.‎

‎That’s probably because it is a dragonrider ‎knife, Tren said. I took it from a Kaldish. After I ‎killed him with it, of course.‎

All the time, she went placidly on with her ‎sharpening, not bothering to look up. Frantic ‎whispering broke out in the ranks of the girls. Tren ‎tried hard not to smile.‎

‎You are such a liar! Mirris snarled. I bet you’ve ‎never been within five leagues of a Kaldish. That’s ‎just a cheap copy you picked up somewhere so you ‎can wave it around and pretend you’re some kind of ‎mighty warrior. You want to watch that, new girl. We ‎don’t like that sort of thing around here.‎

‎Well, isn’t that just too bad? Tren said, her ‎voice hardening. For your information, Mirris, I ‎couldn’t care less what you like or don’t like. And I’d ‎be careful who you accuse of lying if I were you. ‎

CHAPTER TWO – TIF

Tif lay in his bed in the stronghold hospital staring ‎at the ceiling. His sister and father had just left, and ‎he’d just had another dose of medication for the pain. ‎He felt exhausted, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep just ‎yet. After all, he’d slept all the way here.‎

He was a bit disappointed about that, actually. ‎He’d wanted to see the entrance and how the map ‎worked to open it. He’d wanted to see what the ‎tunnels were like, where they led, what the stronghold ‎was like, but he’d missed all that. Damn.‎

At least they’d made it here at long last, and in ‎more or less one piece. He supposed he should be ‎grateful for that. Well, he was grateful for that bit of ‎it. He was just disappointed about the rest of it. And ‎he’d been downright flabbergasted when Prand and ‎Tren had told him about what had happened after he ‎was wounded. ‎

He couldn’t imagine how they’d felt, exhausted, ‎wounded, with him out of action and thinking more ‎Kaldish were coming. From what Tren had said, he ‎gathered they’d more or less prepared themselves for ‎death, knowing there was no way they could stand ‎against another band of Kaldish and hope to survive.‎

And then it had turned out to be that Cernosh ‎bloke that they’d met back in the city instead, out ‎looking for them because they hadn’t turned up at the ‎stronghold. A very great deal had happened while he ‎was unconscious and hovering on the brink of death. ‎Tren had stopped him from bleeding to death and ‎Prand had done what he could to stabilise him, but Tif ‎understood that he’d still been so ill that they were ‎afraid to move him at that point. ‎

He pulled his thoughts firmly out of that line. He ‎didn’t really want to think about how close he’d come ‎to being killed in that battle. Obviously, his father was ‎at least partially right in his insistence that Tif and ‎Tren weren’t trained nearly well enough. ‎

Tif still wasn’t willing to accept that they were ‎quite as useless as Prand seemed to believe, but he ‎knew he’d made mistakes in that fight. Mistakes that ‎had almost cost him his life. He’d been kind of blasé ‎about the training he was about to undertake before, ‎but now he knew that he really needed it.‎

War was coming. That meant there were going to ‎be more battles, and sooner or later, Tif was going to ‎find himself fighting for his life again. Next time, he ‎was going to be prepared. Next time, he was going to ‎know what he was doing. He was determined that he ‎was never going to be caught that way again.‎

He must have drifted off because when he opened ‎his eyes again, it was much later. Some of the lights ‎that floated up near the ceiling had gone out, plunging ‎the room into semi-darkness. It was a bit hard to tell ‎for sure since he wasn’t used to the way things ‎worked here yet, but he thought it must be night. ‎He’d heard that they did have night and day here, ‎even though the whole complex was underground.‎

‎Ah, you’re awake, an attendant said, sticking ‎his head around the door of the room. Are you ‎hungry? You slept right through dinner and I didn’t ‎like to wake you, so I saved it for you.‎

‎I’m starving, Tif said as his stomach gave a ‎rather embarrassing rumble. ‎

The attendant laughed and disappeared again, to ‎return a couple of minutes later with Tif’s dinner.‎

‎Thanks, Tif said. ‎

‎It’s only soup and bread, I’m afraid, the ‎attendant said apologetically as he helped Tif into a ‎sitting position and got him organised. You can only ‎have soft food for a couple of days to give your gut ‎time to heal. Magical healing is good, but it isn’t ‎instantaneous, and it can only work with your body.‎

‎Yeah, I get it, Tif said. This will be fine. It ‎smells good, anyway.‎

‎If you’d like a word of advice, the attendant ‎said, grinning, try not to get stabbed in that spot next ‎time. A couple of fingers’ width further over and ‎you’d be eating meat and vegetables.‎

‎I’ll keep that in mind, Tif said, grinning back. ‎‎Although, I sincerely hope there isn’t going to be a ‎next time.‎

‎That’s definitely a better plan, the attendant ‎said. ‎

Tif tried to laugh but winced and gave up the ‎attempt as the muscle action pulled at his wound.‎

‎Sorry, the attendant said. I’ll leave you to your ‎meal. I’ll bring you another painkiller once you’ve ‎finished.‎

‎Yeah, that would be good. Thanks. How long am ‎I going to have to be here, do you know?‎

‎Well, that’s up to the physician, of course, but ‎probably a few days before you’re up and out of here, ‎and then usually about a week before you can do any ‎strenuous exercise. As I said, magical healing is fast. ‎Although, it probably doesn’t feel like it at the ‎moment.‎

Tif groaned. I’ll be dead of boredom before ‎then!‎

‎Well, if you want something to read, your father ‎brought in the textbooks for your training course. ‎They’re on the table there.‎

‎Oh, yeah, he said something about that, Tif ‎said. Apparently, I’m all signed up, but the rest of ‎the class is about two weeks ahead, so there’s some ‎catching up to do. I suppose I’d better make a start ‎while I’m lying around in here.‎

‎Sounds like a good plan, the attendant said. ‎‎Get caught up as much as you can before you’re ‎actually in class and they start piling more on you. ‎Well, I’ll leave you to it. I need to get back to my ‎other duties.‎

He disappeared, leaving Tif to his dinner, which ‎was surprisingly good. He quickly emptied his bowl ‎and then, because there was no point in trying to sleep ‎again just then, he reached across for the book on top ‎of the pile. ‘History of the Dragonfighters’. Well, it ‎could have been worse. ‎

He knew a bit about the history of his people, but ‎he was willing to bet that there was a lot he didn’t ‎know, too. Prand or somebody had slipped a note ‎inside with the information that he needed to study ‎the first four chapters to catch up with the rest of the ‎class. Handy to know. There was an assignment to be ‎caught up, too, but he could worry about that later. ‎

He opened the book and began to read. He was ‎deep into what was actually a quite interesting ‎account when the attendant came back. That ‎interrupted things a bit because he wanted to check ‎Tif’s dressings as well as give him his painkiller and ‎remove the dinner dishes. Once that was done though, ‎he returned to his reading until he felt ready to sleep ‎again. ‎

There was one thing to be said for being stuck in ‎bed, Tif thought the next day, and that was that there ‎was nothing to do but read. He dozed a little now and ‎then, his body still weak enough to need the rest. But ‎when he wasn’t doing that or eating his meals, he had ‎his head in a book and, by the time he was ready to ‎sleep for the night, he’d made quite a decent hole in ‎the reading he had to do.‎

The history had been quite interesting, as had ‘The ‎Theory of Magic’. The one on dragonfighter military ‎etiquette had been fairly tedious but he’d stuck with it ‎because he realised that was important stuff to know. ‎Not saluting someone or forgetting their correct title ‎was almost bound to upset them. Besides, that was ‎the one that the assignment was on, so he’d have to ‎read it sooner or later anyway.‎

The book on weapons didn’t have much to offer ‎that was new, but he enjoyed it anyway because the ‎chapters he had to read were on the sword, his ‎favourite weapon. The book on battle tactics was ‎absorbing and he found himself reading further than ‎required. Their father hadn’t done a lot with them on ‎tactics, concentrating instead on teaching them how to ‎deal with one on one encounters, so that was almost ‎all new.‎

The ‘Introduction to Unarmed Combat’ though, ‎had almost sent him straight back to sleep. It really ‎was an introduction, as basic as they came. There ‎wasn’t a thing in there that Tif didn’t know. In fact, ‎he’d known it so long he couldn’t even remember ‎learning it. ‎

It just seemed to have always been a part of him. ‎He plodded his way through it anyway just in case ‎there was something in there that might trip him up in ‎an exam. However, he was more than grateful when ‎his dinner arrived, and he had an excuse to set the ‎book aside for a while. ‎

Dinner was soup and bread again. It was tasty ‎enough, but Tif hoped he got the all-clear to eat proper ‎food soon. Soup was a nice enough meal, just not for ‎dinner. He wanted proper food, something he could ‎get his teeth into. ‎

He didn’t work again after he’d eaten his dinner. ‎Suddenly, he felt completely exhausted. He waited ‎until the attendant came back for the bowl, then had ‎him help him to the bathroom, climbed back into bed ‎and that was that until he was woken for breakfast the ‎next morning. ‎

He woke feeling very much better. Something had ‎changed during the night. He could feel it the moment ‎he opened his eyes. For the first time since being ‎wounded, he felt restless, eager to get up and get ‎moving. ‎

First, he wanted his breakfast, and then he wanted ‎the physician to come and tell him he could go home. ‎His new home, that was. He understood that he’d ‎already been assigned a bunk in the men’s dormitory, ‎although of course, he hadn’t seen it yet. ‎

An attendant appeared, a woman this morning, to ‎see if he needed help getting to the bathroom.‎

‎Do you know, I think I can make it on my own ‎this morning? Tif said. ‎

The attendant smiled knowingly. Ah, healing ‎spell kicked in, has it? she said. They tend to do ‎that. They work away quietly in the background for a ‎day or two and you don’t feel as though anything’s ‎happening at all, and then suddenly you feel ‎completely well.‎

‎Yes, that’s exactly what’s happened, Tif said. ‎‎Last night, I couldn’t get out of bed without help, ‎yet this morning, I feel as though I could go for a ‎run.‎

‎Yes, if the spell’s worked, you probably could, ‎the woman said. But let’s not risk that just yet. You ‎take yourself to the bathroom if you think you can, ‎and I’ll tag along just in case you find you need help. ‎You can get a kind of false start with some of these ‎spells, where you feel better but then go back again. ‎It’s not common, but it does happen, so better safe ‎than sorry, wouldn’t you say?‎

‎Definitely, Tif said, throwing back the covers ‎and swinging his legs out of bed.‎

They set off together. The attendant stayed close ‎just in case, but Tif made it easily there and back. ‎Apart from a little tightness in the region of his wound ‎and a slight feeling of weakness, he felt perfectly well. ‎He ate breakfast and waited impatiently for the ‎physician to arrive.‎

It was midmorning and he’d almost finished the ‎assigned reading before he heard the unmistakable ‎sound of the physician’s voice in the next room. He ‎quickly finished the section he was reading, marked ‎his place, and laid the book aside. He was sitting up ‎waiting expectantly when the physician finally came ‎through the door. ‎

‎Apprentice Tifan, good morning, she said as she ‎breezed into the room. Your attendant tells me your ‎healing magic seems to have done its job, is that ‎right?‎

‎I think so, Tif said. I feel completely different ‎this morning.‎

‎Yes, that’s the way it usually works. If you’d ‎just lie back and let me have a look, and if everything ‎looks as it should, you’ll be able to go back to ‎barracks.‎

Tif obediently lay back on the bed, determined to ‎do nothing to prejudice his chances of getting out of ‎there. He was most chagrined when he couldn’t ‎control a little yelp of pain as the physician probed his ‎wound, but to his relief, she seemed unconcerned. ‎

‎Yes, it’s going to be tender for a while, she said. ‎‎The tissues are just newly-healed, and the nature of ‎the spell means that they’re only just knit together ‎right now. It takes a little time for the spell to ‎consolidate the repair. Be careful that you don’t have ‎any impacts on that side if you can possibly help it for ‎at least a week and try to resist the urge to poke at it. ‎It may itch, too. Try not to scratch it. If you absolutely ‎have to, do so as gently and with as light a touch as ‎you can. All right?‎

‎Yes, Ma’am, Tif said.‎

‎No heavy exercise for a week, the physician ‎said. You can walk, you can do some stretching ‎exercises if you wish. In fact, those can be beneficial ‎as long as you take care. You can try running for short ‎periods to start building up your fitness again, but no ‎jumping, weapons practice or anything like that.‎

‎No, Ma’am, Tif said. His heart sank a little, but ‎right then, he’d have agreed to anything to get out of ‎there.‎

‎I’ll see you in a week, then, the physician said. ‎‎The attendant will bring you a note for your tutors ‎and another for the matron of your dormitory along ‎with a bottle of painkiller. You may find you need it, ‎especially for the first few days. You’ll need to wait ‎for those, but then you may go.‎

‎Yes, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am, Tif said ‎gratefully.‎

An impatient half hour later, he was on his way, ‎his books, his notes and his bottle of medicine ‎carefully stowed away in the satchel he’d been issued ‎to carry his stuff to classes in, eager to finally make ‎the acquaintance of his fellow apprentices and settle ‎into his new life. ‎

Classes would start tomorrow, so he didn’t have ‎much time to do that. But even so, he couldn’t stop ‎from gawking as he walked. To think this whole city ‎was underground.‎

‎Weird, he said to himself. This would take some ‎getting used to.‎

CHAPTER THREE - TREN

Tren laid aside her tools and took her time ‎examining the blade and testing the point of the knife ‎against her thumb. She made a last pass over the blade ‎with her oily rag before sliding it back into its sheath ‎and rising to put it in her locker, pointedly ignoring ‎her audience.‎

‎You ought to watch yourself, Mirris said, ‎glowering. After all, all sorts of accidents can happen ‎on the practice grounds.‎

‎Yes, Tren said flatly, fixing Mirris with a steady ‎gaze. They can, can’t they?‎

‎Are you threatening me? Mirris demanded, ‎taking a step back. ‎

She didn’t seem to like having her own threats ‎thrown back at her. Apparently, though, the retreat ‎had been involuntary because she made haste to ‎correct that indication of fear, looming forward again ‎even more belligerently than before.‎

‎No, dear, Tren said with a chilly smile. I’m ‎promising. If anyone tries to attack me, I will defend ‎myself, and when I do, I will do my utmost to ‎persuade them what a really bad idea it was. That’s ‎my promise. ‎

Mirris looked disconcerted for a moment, then she ‎snorted. I shouldn’t think you’re up to much, ‎anyway, she said dismissively. I mean, what kind of ‎dragonfighter has to wait years before they’re good ‎enough to even begin formal training?‎

The sycophants all snickered and Tren felt a hot ‎spurt of anger. She’d known that was what people ‎would think, but to have it said in so many words was ‎something else again. She suppressed the anger ‎ruthlessly. She wasn’t about to start trading insults ‎with Mirris, and besides, it was always a good thing ‎when your enemy underestimated you. They’d find ‎out that they were wrong soon enough. ‎

‎I guess we’ll see when we all hit the practice ‎ground, won’t we? she said placidly, although she ‎struggled to keep her voice from shaking with fury.‎

She turned away, ignoring them, and put her knife ‎away before turning to her chest and taking out ‎textbook, pen and paper and sitting down at her desk ‎with them. When she looked up again, her roommates ‎were in a little knot at the far end of the room, ‎whispering together and shooting baleful looks at her ‎when they thought she wasn’t looking. ‎

Good, that had got rid of them. Tren put them ‎firmly out of her mind and settled to her work. There ‎was a bunch of reading that she had to catch up, plus ‎an assignment that the others had already handed in. ‎She had an extension so she could get it done, but she ‎needed to get onto that before she had a pile of other ‎work to worry about. ‎

She did take the time though, to devise a nice ‎little spell that would not only prevent access to her ‎chest and locker to anyone but her but would also tell ‎her if anyone tried. She didn’t trust her new ‎roommates any further than she could throw them. ‎She also set it to deliver a nice little stinging slap to ‎any hand that touched the spell.‎

The whole thing left her feeling rather depressed ‎again. Perhaps she could have handled that better, ‎although something of the sort had been bound to ‎happen at some stage. Mirris would want to assert her ‎authority over Tren as she did over the others, and ‎Tren wasn’t about to bow to that, so a confrontation ‎was inevitable, really. ‎

Tren gave a mental shrug and turned her attention ‎back to her work. It was probably just as well to get ‎the ground rules laid down earlier rather than later, ‎and she’d never expected to make friends here ‎anyway, so there was no real loss. Now, hopefully, ‎they’d leave her alone and she could get on with what ‎she was here for. She opened her book and began to ‎read about tactics for unarmed combat.‎

Half an hour later, she was bored out of her skull. ‎So far, she hadn’t read a single thing that her father ‎hadn’t been teaching her and Tif since shortly after ‎they were able to walk. It was also quite noisy in the ‎room, and she was almost certain the other girls were ‎deliberately trying to disrupt her concentration. ‎Something seemed to hit the floor with a clatter every ‎minute or so, and she was fairly sure they weren’t all ‎that clumsy.‎

With a sigh, she packed up her things, shoved ‎them in the satchel she’d been given to carry her ‎books around in, slung it over her shoulder, and left ‎the room. She got two steps before she turned around ‎and hurried back, pretending to have forgotten ‎something. What she actually did was cast the same ‎spell she’d put on her chest and locker on her bed.‎

It had just occurred to her that a fairly obvious ‎trick if her roommates wanted to get back at her ‎would be to interfere with her bed, and she really ‎didn’t want to have to wash out her bedding or find ‎her sheets sewn together or something equally ‎inconvenient. Then, that small job done, she went on ‎her way again, feeling much more secure.‎

There was a library somewhere in the training ‎complex and Tren knew they were allowed to use it, ‎but she didn’t know exactly where it was. She ‎assumed it would have someplace where she could ‎study, and it seemed like a better option than sitting ‎around while her roommates did their best to distract ‎her. She’d been shown the matron’s office when she ‎came in and advised to go there for anything she ‎needed, so she headed there for directions. ‎

A quarter of an hour later, she stood outside the ‎library and looked at it with appreciation. It stood on ‎the opposite side of a square to the temple, the two ‎buildings both built out of white marble and matching ‎each other in size and grandeur. Well-groomed lawns ‎and beautifully-kept garden beds occupied the space ‎between, and there were paths, seats, even a fountain ‎spewing water into the air.‎

The two other sides of the square were occupied ‎by smaller buildings, mostly administrative offices for ‎the temple staff and housing for the priests and ‎functionaries. It was just like any other temple ‎complex that she’d seen except that the whole thing ‎was underground. ‎

Tren was still getting used to that. It still gave her ‎a very strange feeling to look up and see, not blue sky ‎and sunshine, but a rocky roof liberally peppered with ‎magical lights. And the fact that they built actual ‎buildings with roofs had made no sense to her at all ‎until her father had informed her that they had ‎weather down here. ‎

It rained. It got cold. The sun – or, at least, the ‎lights - beat down in summer, it occasionally snowed ‎in winter. There were night and day. There was even ‎wind. The makers, he had explained, had tried to ‎make it as little like living underground and as much ‎like living on the surface as possible. ‎

Going underground had been the only way to ‎avoid discovery by the dragons, but they realised that ‎many people would find it uncomfortable. There was ‎also the problem that children born and raised ‎underground were likely to have problems with ‎agoraphobia when they went above ground. ‎

Going above ground and being able to cope there ‎was essential, of course, because they existed to fight ‎the Baraniti. Therefore, the designers had tried to ‎build something as much like a surface city as ‎possible, although, even then, most families chose to ‎raise their children out in the world to prevent those ‎problems from arising. ‎

Getting used to living underground was much ‎easier than the other way around. Instead of separate ‎small caves, the dragonfighters had built huge, open ‎caverns that ran for leagues and were tall enough to ‎contain two, three or even four-storey buildings. Even ‎tall forest trees could grow down here. There were ‎huge columns of rock dotted about to support the ‎roofs, of course, but wherever possible they were ‎disguised.‎

Tren had to admit that they’d succeeded ‎admirably. There were a few quirks, like the fact that ‎the city was built on many levels rather than being ‎spread out on one, but that was a necessary ‎compromise. Other than that, unless she happened to ‎look up or be close to the wall of a cavern, Tren could ‎almost imagine that she was still above ground.‎

The lights were designed to exactly mimic ‎sunlight, and there was rain and other weather just as ‎there was above, hence the ability to grow plants and ‎even trees down here. In fact, according to Prand, the ‎magic that caused it was set up to exactly mimic what ‎was happening above. If it was raining up there, it was ‎raining down here. The city was an impressive feat, a ‎marriage of engineering and magic. ‎

But this wasn’t getting her study done. With a last ‎look around, Tren walked purposefully up the steps of ‎the library and through the door. As soon as she ‎stepped inside, she found herself wrapped in an ‎atmosphere of calm, quiet industry that was very ‎restful. It was certainly a nice change from the ‎atmosphere in the dormitory. ‎

Yes, she could work here. In fact, she could see ‎herself spending most of her free time here. It would ‎be a very good place to get on with her work without ‎interruption. A quick question to the librarian on duty, ‎and she was shown to what the man referred to as a ‎reading room, a large room filled with lines of desks ‎where people dressed in the uniforms of the various ‎services sat studying.‎

‎You can sit anywhere, the librarian explained. ‎‎You can read for as long as you want. If you take ‎books off the shelves, just leave them on the desk ‎when you’re finished. He nodded to one of his ‎colleagues, who was walking down an aisle picking up ‎books and placing them in the trolley she was ‎wheeling. We’ll collect them and put them away.‎

‎Isn’t that a little unfair? Tren asked before she ‎could stop herself. ‎

The librarian grinned. Not really, he said. We ‎prefer it that way. We used to have people put the ‎books back themselves and you wouldn’t believe the ‎chaos. People seem to think that somewhere on the ‎right shelf, or even any shelf, will do. We couldn’t ‎find a thing, and neither could anyone else. Believe ‎me, this way is much better.‎

Tren laughed. Yes, I can see that, I guess.‎

‎Come with me and I’ll give you a quick tour and ‎explain where everything is and what the procedures ‎are if you want to take a book out, the man said, ‎leading the way.‎

Ten minutes later, when they arrived back in the ‎reading room, Tren had a good idea of how the library ‎worked. She was fairly confident that she could find ‎at least the right section now, she’d learned how the ‎catalogue worked, and she was beginning to feel at ‎home in the place. Her guide was a very good teacher.‎

‎Thank you, she said with real feeling. "I think ‎I’ll be able