The recruits were startled the next morning to see the Lore Master standing silently in the centre of the Southern Hall

‘Today is a good day for you to learn something of our lore’ He tapped his staff on the stones ‘Pay attention!’

‘Magic is light. Light is magic. Any magic that you encounter, spell or device, started out as light and was harvested by someone or something and stored.’

‘Dragons are creatures of magic. They come in many colours, some common such as red and green some less so such as white and grey. Rarest of all are the purples and blues but the colour signifies nothing. No research has ever uncovered a difference in temperament, power or any other thing linked to colour. Their wings are always black. It is the colour best suited to capturing light. It is believed that their primary purpose is to capture light and flight is secondary.’

‘Dragons come in a range of sizes but grow for most of their very long lives. They are thought to mature to adulthood at about 100 years old, if they survive that long and will usually be about twenty feet long at that point. Once they get above forty feet long they are usually considered drakes and are.. yes Prince Vann.’

Vann lowered his hand. ‘You said “if they survive that long”, as though that’s not a common occurrence. What happens to them?’

The Lore Master stood in silence for a minute and the trainees began to grow uncomfortable before he finally spoke. ‘Dragons lay eggs, many eggs in each clutch. When they hatch, the dragonlets are dumb brutes. They tear each other to pieces for food; kill or be killed. Some clutches will all die, either killed or from their wounds. More successful clutches will yield a handful that will survive past the first few days. They will move away from their hatching ground and spend the next months hunting whatever they can find for food. If they survive past the first year, their intelligence starts to develop as do their wings. The second culling happens once they can fly. They will often hunt livestock or humans and I don’t need to tell you what the consequences of that are. They may also stray into the territory of another dragon who will kill and eat the interloper as soon as their presence is noticed. Perhaps only one in a thousand will become a fully-fledged adult with a territory of their own. Now where was I?’ His blindfolded face pointed straight at Vann

‘Ah yes. Drakes! The most powerful of all dragons. Usually more than a thousand years old with huge experience. Many spend their time studying magic and will be worthy opponents if they ever risk flying west from their mountains.’

He stopped as several more hands shot into the air. ‘Yes Bria?’ he asked with a resigned air.

‘You said they live in the mountains. Is that the mountains on the far side of the barren plains and why do they come all this way?’

‘They are barren of civilisation, but not herd animals. The dragons have destroyed any settlement that humans have tried to build. It's… the dragons’ larder if you will. Your second question. We don’t precisely know. They come west every few hundred years and they are due now. No more questions!’

He took a piece of chalk from his pocket and stooped to draw a crude dragon on the flagstones.

‘Now. Attend me. Dragons are covered in armour scales; the same armour that you wear. It is almost impossible to breach. Almost but not completely. A dragon lives on meat but thrives on light and is very defensive of its wings. Shred them and the dragon may take decades to recover. It will not kill them. I repeat. It will not kill them but they can be coerced by threatening their wings. Flights of arrows will persuade them to land to reduce the size of the target. Older, wiser dragons may fly away rather than risk a confrontation. Younger rasher dragons will usually attack.

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Dragons come when they are ready, but it is usually late in the afternoon. They have most of the day to charge in the sunlight and some of the day left to soak up more power whilst they fight. They use this power to heal themselves, and they will heal quickly. To destroy a dragon, you must do so much damage that their life ebbs away faster than they can heal but they do have their weak spots to be exploited.’

‘Rabbit. Ask him to conjure a dragon illusion so that you can see one and observe its weak spots.’

Jemryn gulped and put up his hand ‘Lore Master, we saw you send a little messenger dragon. Could you conjure an illusion of a full sized one so that we can see it and observe its weak spots. Or is that too much magic?’ He felt the presence in his mind chortling with glee at the last sentence.

The Lore Master slowly turned so that his blank mask faced Jemryn and his staff came up to point at the boy’s chest. ‘Boy, magic isn’t for games or party tricks. I could reach out and stop your heart, and maybe should for your impertinence.’

The presence snickered. ‘He could try but he’d get a shock. Don’t worry Rabbit. There are advantages to having me as a passenger.’

The Preceptor clapped his hands. ‘Let’s have no talk of killing. Jemryn asks well enough and he raises a valid point. Seeing a full size dragon and being able to examine it safely could be very useful. An illusion, if you please, Lore Master

The Lore Master rapped his staff on the ground in irritation. ‘Preceptor, I scarcely think that I should squander magic when we may be attacked at any time.’

The Preceptor folded his arms. ‘All the more reason to prepare recruits well. An illusion is required’

‘Very well, very well.’ The Lore Master stamped over to the centre of the hall and stood completely still.

After a couple of minutes Bria opened her mouth to speak but the Preceptor scowled and shook his head.

After several more minutes a faint glow appeared in the eastern end of the hall. It grew and solidified over the next few minutes into a red dragon about twenty-five feet long.

‘Ah Celosia! The last dragon we fought. The Lore Master must concentrate to maintain this’ said the Preceptor. ‘Gather around it.’ He strode over to it followed by the recruits and the knights. ‘Do not attempt to do what all the stories say and stab them in the heart. The chest scales are the thickest because dragons tend to fight each other on the wing, rending at their opponent’s chest. Anything else will put their own wings at risk. Their weak spots are the eyelid, under the jaw, in the wing pit, behind the front legs and the cloaca.’ He looked at the young men who had started smirking. ‘Yes boys, you’ll stab it in the arse when your friends are dying up front.’

He walked round behind the dragon which obligingly raised its tail to point out the exact weak spot. ‘Anywhere that moves must have thinner scales. Think about a suit of plate. It’s the joints that are the weak spots and particularly the wing pits. That’s where we aim for.’

He walked back to the head. ‘Lift its head up, Lore Master’ The dragon raised its head and the Preceptor pointed out the fine scales between the jawbones at the base of the throat. ‘Just behind those are the arteries that serve the head. Sever those and you will kill the dragon.

He turned back to the recruits and the dragon dipped its head back down and breathed. White fire crackled all around them making all the recruits jump.

The Preceptor grinned. ‘Very good Lore Master. A nice touch. Thank you for the demonstration. Please go back to your mirrors to rebuild your reserves. And now we will begin with the first halberd form. Bria, you lead.’

* * * * * * *

Rosa stole away from the giant doors that had been left ajar and sat back down in her chair.

‘You’re jealous of your power. Persuading you to squander your reserves will be difficult and you will suspect. But I know you now, you yellow worm. I need to reach the tree and tap its power.’ She paused for a moment. ‘The weapons.’

She stood up and went to the chest under the table and took out the remaining eleven poleaxes, unwrapping each and laying them on the table. She picked up the first and carefully unscrewed the pommel exposing a bright crystal disk. ‘Ah ha. Well charged.’ She put her finger on the disk and concentrated for a few minutes, watching as the disk dimmed and stopping before the gleam completely vanished. ‘A thimbleful; I will need hundreds but the tree will recharge them if we can get them close. It will be slow but we may sneak the power in, thimble by thimble. The girls will carry them in and out for me. There are enough to swap, and none shall suspect. I must write to the Preceptor, but carefully. I do not know that he is my ally. Only that I believe that he is the Lore Master’s foe.’ She carefully screwed the pommel back on and reached for another poleaxe.