Chapter I, part 1: Charoden.

Liriel’s long, blond hair was whipping wildly around her face as she was plummeting downwards. She could see the land below rushing up, towards her, at an incredible speed but for some reason she wasn’t afraid. She was wearing a beautiful silver dress that seemed to blend in with her figure perfectly. As it flapped against the wind, she heard a booming laughter besides her.

She saw that her pale, white hand was gently connected with another’s one. Turning her head, the image of a man overcame her senses. She wasn’t sure if it was the frame of the big, muscled man or the gentle, red haired face that captured her eyes the most. But out of a whim, she decided it was the latter; his big emotional eyes were filled with serenity, the affection that came out of them as she looked at her, straight in her soul, was evident even to the daftest woman. He was surely beautiful, but simultaneously, overly exotic for her normal tastes. But, here and now, it didn’t matter. They were grasping each other’s hand, like lovers, as they were falling to their death. But she didn’t care, and judging by his smile, she thought that he didn’t either…

“RISE UP YOUNGLIIIIINGS”

The unexpected, thundering voice made Liriel jump. Her head hit something hard, causing her to regain her senses. In the dark, vast room the few torches that were scattered around were unable to provide enough illumination. She rubbed her head where she had hit it in the bunker that was above hers. Her military, short cropped hair offered little resistance against her strong fingers.

“Come on Raymond.” She faintly whispered. “You don’t have to wake us up like that. It’s cruel!” She said as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

The giant man that was standing in the entrance of the room turned his head towards her as he spoke. The smile that he gave her was ruined by his missing front tooth.

“Come on laziness incarnated… WAKE UP” The loud, sharp finale of his words forced Liriel and the surrounding children to cup their ears.

Slowly, she tossed her bed covering. She was already dressed in a manner of speaking. The soft, woolen clothing that they used to wear when they slept was little different from the undergarment of their armors.

She took a good look at Raymond again. He was busy now, rushing from bed to bed, tossing violently down anyone who was fool enough to not stand up by himself. Men or women, it held little difference on the way he treated his protégées.

He was already in his battle armor. A poor stitched collection of battered metal plates. Despite their obvious bulk, they produced little noise as the large man was moving around. The glint of the metal was already lost, but the huge silver emblem of the clan was kept in top notch condition. Despite his size, his movements were far too gracious, and that was without taking into account his age. An age that was only apparent in his hair color and the white, soft, long beard of his that fell in cascading waves towards his chest. Its color and length something that even old sorcerers would envy. He let the thin hair free nowadays, maybe as a small private revolution against the years he had it securely tied and tucked underneath the metal chestplate.

It took only ten minutes for the young men and women of the small barracks to do a quick bath and change to fresh undergarments. Fresh, of course, was a relative term. The badly stained and suspiciously hardened clothes, made the whole lot of them, look like worse than peasants.

But unofficially, the hardened the cloth was, the better one could boast about. Like a kind of a measurement between them; it signified how much sweat and blood had been shed to it in the strained years of their training.

Their armors were relatively in good condition, unlike Raymond’s. But Liriel had a suspicion that his hand modified plates were not only sturdier, but also allowed much more freedom of movement.

After all, he had denied uncountable times to wear the shinning, traditional armor of a trainer. Instead, he wore with pride, even in formal situations, his trusted battle armor. “Metal hardened through hundreds of fights, is metal to be prized”, he used to say to them when they inquired, “I respect the nobles and the council, but their silky garments pale in comparison to this masterpiece”.

And in reality, no noble could say much against him. A boy gifted with strength and agility from a young age. A man that his eyes alone inspired bravery to the soldiers, a war hero that not only had survived through so many decades of war, but had also masterminded some of their best plans. In the end, it took a special kind of a man to become an ‘honorary’ general; it took a man that had denied becoming a Dragonrider just for the sake of staying with his infantry. Someone that even after his retirement insisted that he should be the one that would train the youngest classes.

Sighing Liriel looked at the bunch that has now formed a neat line for inspection, a ragtag group that averaged fifteen years old. ‘The pride of Charoden’ they were called. It was traditionally the name given to the youngest class, from ages past. She understood it was an attempt to inspire pride into them, pride that they would join the real military of her little clan. Because that was all that Charoden seemed to be in the great clans that ruled the continent, just a small clan unworthy of their attention, a remnant of an old age.

They knew better themselves of course. They were one of the oldest clans still to be alive and kicking, so old that no one could even remember who was this ‘Charoden’ who started the clan. They were prided for their magic, their military and their diplomats and each one of those filled a particular spot, all necessary for their continuity as a clan. The military and sorcerers were the main battle force that protected their most prized possessions, the two mountaintops that were also breeding grounds for wild dragons. The diplomats were having a real strain in managing to prevent some of the biggest clans out there to rush them over so as to claim them. They have grown big by not being stupid. Charodians were raised to be warriors first of all. From the age of twelve till sixteen, all those that wouldn’t be trained as sorcerers were forced, not only to be trained as soldiers, but also expected to be put in the battlefield. After all, the small number of the true, permanent army wasn’t sufficient to battle off all those who tried in vain to seize the nests by force. But the biggest clans… well they could erase them off the map with ease. Despite having a real big ratio of Dragonriders, due to the gift of the land they owned, despite having some really powerful mages, the massive size of the armies that some of their opponents could master was simply overwhelming. And so it was necessary for some of those mages to ‘enlist’ in other clans, some of their warriors to lead armies that they couldn’t care less about, and even some of their prized dragon eggs to be given out… all in the name of ‘friendly relations’. But Liriel knew that this wasn’t charity. It wasn’t because the big clans pitied them that they allowed them to be. It was because of the superb quality of the Charodians that they ‘lent away’ that earned them a chance of living. “‘Tis something in their blood” foreigners would speak softly when they thought that they couldn’t be heard…

When Raymond was finished with his inspection he let a little sigh. Liriel couldn’t pinpoint if this was from relief that each day fewer and fewer young ones needed adjustment in their armors, or if this sigh was aimed at the only bunker that still seemed to house a tangled body underneath it. Not even the great battle master tried to make young Jacob stand up if he didn’t wish it. The penalty that Liriel would face if she couldn’t don her armor after nearly all the three years of her training would be steep, but no one seemed to bother that this boy, who was even slightly older than her, probably couldn’t even lift the combined weight of the armor, the great shield and the sword, let alone the short lance… She sometimes envied the freedom that this boy was given. But deep inside her she knew that she wouldn’t want to share his fate.