Hunted

By Ashley Abbiss

Twins Tren and Tif don’t believe in dragons. ‎Which is unfortunate because they’re hereditary ‎dragonfighters. ‎

All their lives since they were old enough to ‎understand, Tifan and his sister Tirulen have been ‎trained by their father, honing their bodies and their ‎minds, learning to fight hand-to-hand, with weapons ‎and with magic, all to prepare them to face the ‎dragonriders and their huge, fire-breathing beasts.‎

Except that there are no dragons. No dragon has ‎been seen for two hundred years, since the ‎dragonriders were defeated and all the dragons were ‎killed. As if the weight of all that family history and ‎expectation aren’t enough, they’re doing it for ‎nothing. Their crazy father is forcing them to train to ‎meet a foe that no longer exists.‎

Tren rebels and heads for the town where she ‎hopes to build a normal life away from all the ‎craziness. But when both she and her brother are ‎attacked by some fairly serious-looking people and ‎they return home to find their entire village burned to ‎the ground, they realise they were wrong.‎

The dragons do still exist, and they and the ‎dragonrider folk are on the move again, and ‎apparently, after them. Along with the father that they ‎now realise isn’t crazy after all, the twins must try to ‎make it to the dragonfighter stronghold, the only place ‎they will be safe, pursued all the way by a group of ‎ruthless dragonrider assassins and hunted from the air ‎by dragons.‎

Although a story in its own right, "Hunted" is also ‎the first part of a classic, epic fantasy trilogy.‎

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Abbiss
• Release date: Dec 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005629007

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 groaned and rolled over. Only then did she ‎realise that the pounding she could hear wasn’t just in ‎her head. Someone was knocking on the door. ‎Swearing under her breath, she opened her eyes, ‎squinting against the glare of the light, dim in her little ‎garret room, but still bright enough to stab right ‎through her eyes and into her brain. Or so it seemed to ‎her as she winced and squeezed them almost shut ‎again.‎

She sat up, one hand groping under the pillow for ‎her dagger while with the other, she tried to keep the ‎top of her head from flying off. She removed her ‎hand from the dagger. One little altercation in an alley ‎and she was jumping at shadows. She shook her head, ‎which turned out to be a major mistake. She cradled ‎her head and hoped she wouldn’t throw up. The ‎knocking came again, more urgent this time.‎

‎Who’s there? she croaked.‎

‎Tren, it’s me, Tif. Open the door.‎

She staggered to her feet and removed the bar ‎that she’d placed across the door so she could rest ‎without worrying about anyone interrupting her.‎

‎Tif? she said to the young man standing there. ‎‎What are you doing here?‎

‎By the beard of Aranisul, Tren! You look awful. ‎What’s happened? Tif said as he pushed into the ‎room.‎

‎It’s not as bad as it looks, Tren said, waving a ‎hand. She went back to sit on the bed while her ‎brother took the room’s only chair. I’d be all right if I ‎could just get rid of this headache. She grinned, ‎although it was more a grimace than anything. Don’t ‎worry, the other guy looks worse.‎

‎But what happened?‎

‎Someone tried to rob me when I was coming ‎home, Tren said. ‎

‎What happened exactly? Tif said, leaning ‎forward.‎

‎What does it matter? Tren said irritably. I was ‎on my way home at the end of my shift and two guys ‎jumped me in an alley. I fought them off, but I got ‎this cut on my arm and whacked my head against a ‎brick wall during the scuffle. End of not very exciting ‎story.‎

‎They had knives?‎

Tren sighed. Yes, they had knives, she said with ‎exaggerated patience. Why couldn’t he just leave it ‎alone and let her get over her headache in peace? If he ‎went on like this much longer, she was going to ‎disgrace herself by throwing up. Most robbers do. It ‎generally makes it easier to persuade people to part ‎with their valuables.‎

‎Don’t be sarcastic.‎

‎Well, stop asking stupid questions when the top ‎of my head is about to fly off.‎

‎Sorry, Tren. But this is important, more important ‎than you realise. Are you sure they were trying to rob ‎you?‎

‎I didn’t wait about to ask them, Tren said. I ‎was kind of busy defending myself. What else would ‎they be doing?‎

‎Trying to kill you, maybe.‎

She looked at him, saw the earnestness in his face, ‎and burst out laughing. At least until a particularly ‎vicious stab of pain from her head told her that was as ‎bad an idea as shaking her head had been. She ‎groaned and put her head in her hands.‎

‎You’ve really got a problem there, haven’t you? ‎Tif said. Let’s see what the damage is.‎

‎Don’t. Leave it alone, Tren said, pulling away as ‎he rose to his feet and bent over her.‎

‎Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to hurt you. I just ‎want to look.‎

Tif bent over her, gently parting her blood-matted ‎hair with his hands as she cowered and hissed.‎

‎Oh, god of light, Tren! This is about as big as a ‎goose egg, and I think it needs stitches. It’s actually ‎still bleeding. I thought you said you just whacked ‎your head. This looks as though someone pounded it ‎against that wall.‎

‎That might have happened, Tren admitted.‎

Tif pulled back the collar of her tunic to expose ‎her neck. While they were strangling you, by the look ‎of those bruises, he said. ‎

Tren slapped his hand away and pulled her collar ‎back to cover the livid marks that would surely be ‎dark bruises by the end of the day.‎

Tif put his hands on his hips and glowered. Why ‎do you always have to act so tough, Tirulen? he ‎demanded.‎

‎"Why do you have to loom over me and do the ‎whole big brother thing, Tifan?" Tren threw back.‎

‎I am your big brother.‎

Tren snorted. By twenty minutes. I’m not sure ‎that actually counts. It certainly doesn’t with me.‎

‎Come on, Tif said, grabbing her by the arm and ‎pulling her up. You’re going to see an apothecary ‎right now. That head wound needs cleaning at the ‎very least. He can look at the cut on your arm, too. ‎And you certainly need something for the pain.‎

‎Those things always make me sleepy, Tren said. ‎

‎Well, we’ll see if he’s got something that won’t, ‎Tif said. But you can’t stay like this, that’s for ‎certain.‎

‎Nag, nag, nag, Tren said. ‎

But she didn’t resist as her brother pulled her from ‎the room. Much as she hated to admit it, she did feel ‎truly awful. Even something that left her feeling ‎drugged and dopey would be preferable to the pain ‎she was in at that moment. Not that she was about to ‎admit that to Tif, though. She grabbed her purse – ‎these people would want to be paid, after all – and let ‎him lead her to the local apothecary.‎

An hour later, her wounds had been cleaned and ‎neatly bandaged, the one on her arm stitched, and ‎she’d taken the first dose of a medicine guaranteed to ‎kill the pain while not making her sleepy. She took ‎that with a grain of salt. In her experience, those ‎things always made her drowsy. ‎

She’d said so to the apothecary, and he’d sold her ‎another medicine which he said would help her to ‎wake up if the other one had a hangover effect. She ‎only hoped one or both of them worked the way they ‎were supposed to. ‎

While she’d rather like a decent night’s sleep, ‎something she wasn’t likely to get without a little help ‎with the pain, there was nothing she hated more than ‎to feel fusty and hungover for half the day ‎afterwards. It was like fighting with yourself – and ‎losing.‎

With that job done, she took Tif to her favourite ‎tavern. For one thing, the medicine had left a foul ‎taste in her mouth that she was eager to wash out. For ‎another, it was getting on for dinner time and she had ‎nothing at home to feed them with. There was a ‎communal kitchen on the ground floor of her boarding ‎house, but she hated using it. ‎

She wasn’t much into cooking anyway, and the ‎place always seemed to be full of other people. Tren ‎wasn’t much into socialising either, and she disliked ‎the pervading smell of cooking cabbage that always ‎seemed to linger there. She bought most of her meals ‎either at street stalls or here at the tavern. It didn’t ‎cost too much more than buying the food and ‎preparing it herself, and it saved her the hassle.‎

‎What did you mean before about what happened ‎to me not being a robbery and someone trying to kill ‎me? Why on earth would you think someone was ‎trying to kill me? she asked when they were seated at ‎a table with mugs of ale before them. ‎

Her head was clearing now as the pain subsided ‎and amazingly, she didn’t yet feel like falling asleep ‎right where she sat. She now had time to wonder ‎about what Tif had said. It sounded a bit far-fetched ‎to her. More than a bit, actually. But she also ‎wondered what he was doing there in the town. It ‎was the better part of a day’s ride from the village ‎where he lived with her father. Not a journey to be ‎made on the spur of the moment.‎

‎What are you doing here anyway? she asked, ‎prompted by that thought.‎

‎Pa sent me to warn you, Tif said. ‎

‎About what?‎

‎About being careful and keeping an eye open for ‎anyone trying to attack you, Tif said. It appears I ‎was a little late. I’m just glad you’re okay. Well, more ‎or less.‎

‎Tif, she said wearily. You always want to start ‎in the middle of things and just expect me to know ‎what you’re talking about. I’m sore, I’m tired, and I ‎really can’t be bothered, so would you please start at ‎the beginning?‎

‎Being attacked hasn’t improved your disposition ‎any, I see, Tif grinned.‎

‎Tif!‎

‎All right, all right. Don’t be so impatient. You ‎always have to have everything spelled out. ‎

Tren rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and ‎tapped her foot. ‎

Tif rolled his own eyes. Prickly, his sister was. ‎Always had been. He folded his hands on the table in ‎front of him and leant forward a little, lowering his ‎voice. Yesterday, I was attacked by two men with ‎knives, just as you were today. Like you, I managed ‎to fight them off, although I got a bit of a gouge ‎across the ribs for my trouble.‎

Tif pulled his tunic up to show a bandage around ‎his lower ribs.‎

‎And? Tren said. I mean, I’m sorry you got hurt ‎and all that, but I completely fail to see the ‎connection. The world’s a dangerous place in case you ‎haven’t noticed. There are rogues all over, and most of ‎them carry knives. What’s so special about two knife ‎attacks a day’s travel apart?‎

‎I don’t know, but Pa thought there was ‎something significant about it. He insisted that mine ‎was a murder attempt and not a robbery, and when I ‎stopped and thought about it, they did seem more ‎interested in going for me rather than my purse. I ‎mean, most ruffians will back off and go find an ‎easier mark if money’s all they’re after, but these guys ‎just kept coming until I killed one of them and hurt ‎the other pretty badly. Pa sent me straight off as soon ‎as I’d been doctored, to tell you to be careful.‎

‎I’m sorry, Tif. I still don’t get it. You got ‎attacked by a couple of guys with knives. So what? ‎Most thugs can’t afford a sword, so they use knives. ‎Why? Because everyone carries a knife if only to eat ‎with. What’s so unusual about a couple of would-be ‎robbers that it gets Pa excited enough to send you to ‎me? How could he possibly have known that I’d get ‎attacked too? It has to be a coincidence. Unless there ‎was something special about the two that attacked ‎you?‎

‎I told you, they didn’t act like ordinary robbers. I ‎also got the impression that they weren’t expecting me ‎to be trained. I think they were a bit surprised when I ‎fought back as effectively as I did. But I don’t think ‎it was that. One of them had a weird tattoo thing on ‎his arm. I noticed it when we were tussling. Pa got ‎this really worried look when I described it, and that’s ‎when he told me to come to you. I don’t suppose you ‎noticed anything like that on your two?‎

‎I was a bit busy to be wasting time trying to peer ‎up their sleeves, Tren said. What did this thing look ‎like, anyway?‎

‎Kind of sinuous, like a snake with wings. Pa said ‎it’s the mark of the dragonmen.‎

‎Oh, for… You have got to be kidding me. Not ‎Pa and his crazy dragon theories again! I mean, maybe ‎it was the mark of the dragonmen when there were ‎such people, but that doesn’t mean the guy that ‎attacked you was a dragonman, does it? More likely ‎some thug who thinks a dragonman tattoo makes him ‎look tougher. And you fell for it?‎

‎No, of course not, but you should have seen Pa, ‎Tren. He was really upset. The only way I could calm ‎him down was to promise to come to you. ‎

‎You shouldn’t encourage him.‎

Tif spread his hands. You know what he’s like, ‎Tren. He’s proud of our family heritage.‎

‎Yeah, being proud is one thing, Tif. Being ‎delusional is something else again. There haven’t been ‎any dragons for two hundred years. Therefore, it ‎follows that there haven’t been any dragonfighters for ‎two hundred years, or dragonriders, come to that, ‎because there are no dragons to fight or to ride any ‎more. Yet we’ve been forced our whole lives to train ‎to fight these beasts that no longer exist.‎

‎You didn’t use to mind, Tif said.‎

‎Yeah, well, I grew up and realised that Pa may ‎be our father, and I love him to bits, but he’s also ‎nuts.‎

Tif looked at her. And yet, he sent me to warn ‎you and I get here to find you’ve been attacked, too. I ‎don’t know what to make of that.‎

‎There isn’t anything to make. It’s a coincidence, ‎pure and simple. And not that much of a coincidence, ‎given the crime rate. Tren sighed and rubbed her face ‎with her hands. Unfortunately, it’s just going to ‎convince Pa that he was right, and that’s just going to ‎make him worse than ever.‎

‎He wants you to come home.‎

‎Absolutely not. No way. I have a life, Tif. I have ‎a job, I have friends, I have things to do. I’ve finally ‎escaped from the madness, and there’s no way I’m ‎going back.‎

‎He thinks it’s too dangerous for you to stay here ‎alone. Look, just come for the weekend. That won’t ‎disrupt your life all that much, and it’ll set his mind at ‎rest to have you there and see that you’re all right.‎

‎No. You know perfectly well that there’ll just be ‎arguments again when I want to leave. No.‎

‎Tren…‎

‎No. How many ways do I have to say it before ‎you get the message? I am not going back home. Not ‎happening. I’d like to enjoy my weekend, thank you, ‎not spend it arguing.‎

Tif sighed. He won’t like it.‎

‎Tough. And don’t try to make me feel sorry for ‎you, either. If you had any sense, you’d get out like I ‎did and make a life for yourself.‎

CHAPTER TWO

‎I have a perfectly good life, thank you all the ‎same! Tif said, stung. Just because I didn’t make the ‎same decision you did… just because I decided to ‎stay home and not abandon Pa. Don’t you dare, Tren. ‎Don’t you dare!‎

‎Sorry, Tif, Tren said, looking a bit startled at the ‎outburst. Please, don’t let’s argue. I don’t see that ‎much of you these days. Let’s just enjoy the evening ‎together. Do you have somewhere to stay?‎

‎I was hoping to stay with you.‎

‎Okay, as long as you’ve got your own bedroll. ‎You saw my place. The only place other than the bed ‎where you could sleep is the floor.‎

‎Of course I have a bedroll. You know Pa and his ‎ready for any eventuality thing. I have a bedroll, a ‎tent, emergency rations, you name it. So, that’s fine. ‎Thanks.‎

‎Where’s our food? Tren demanded. I’m ‎starving.‎

‎Busy place, Tif said, looking around.‎

‎It’s a nice, friendly place, and it serves good ‎food, Tren said. It’s always popular at dinnertime. ‎

‎I take it that the medicine is working then, if ‎you’re feeling hungry? Tif said.‎

‎Amazingly enough, the pain’s almost gone, Tren ‎said. And even more amazingly, I don’t feel like ‎falling asleep in my dinner.‎

‎Something’s finally going right, then? Tif ‎grinned.‎

‎Not before time, either, Tren said. It’s been ‎one of those days so far. First, my sergeant was in a ‎bad mood, which put everybody else in a bad mood, ‎which made for a horrible shift, and then I get ‎attacked on the way home.‎

‎It still beats me why you wanted to go join the ‎city guard in the first place, Tif said. You knew it ‎had a bad reputation.‎

‎It’s not as bad as people say. It’s a job that I ‎have the skills for, and it gets me away from home ‎and Pa continually going on about our ‘destiny’ like ‎we don’t have a right to live our lives the way we ‎want. I don’t intend to stay with the guard forever, ‎just until I get a bit of experience under my belt and ‎can move on to something better.‎

‎Right, Tif said. ‎

He didn’t know why he even bothered asking. He ‎knew perfectly well that his sister didn’t really care ‎what she did for a living. All she wanted was to ‎escape, to get out from under the weight of hundreds ‎of years of family tradition. It hadn’t been his choice, ‎but he couldn’t blame Tren for hers. ‎

Some days, he knew just how she felt. The ‎expectation of history could be a weighty thing. ‎Especially when the purpose of those traditions was as ‎dead as the dragons they’d once been designed to ‎stand against. Nowadays, his people were simple ‎traders. ‎

He and his father made a living buying up the ‎crops and livestock of his rural neighbours and then ‎selling the produce on in the towns. They made a ‎good, if unspectacular, living. By village standards, ‎they were quite well-off and therefore important in ‎their own small way, but they were nowhere near the ‎noble status of their ancestors. ‎

Yet the pressure of the past was always there. His ‎pride in his ancestry obsessed their father, who ‎staunchly maintained that one day, the dragons would ‎be back and the dragonfighters would come into their ‎own again. This despite the fact that no one had seen ‎a dragon in over two hundred years.‎

From early childhood, the twins had been trained ‎to fight so they would be ready when the dragons ‎returned. They were taught the old dragonfighter ‎methods, training both their bodies and their minds, ‎learning to fight both with weapons, with their bare ‎hands, and with magic. Although magic, like most ‎everything else, was a mere shadow of its former self ‎if the histories were to be believed. ‎

Tif had to admit though, that the dragonfighter ‎training they’d received was far superior to anything ‎he’d seen taught elsewhere. He could quite see why ‎Tren had chosen the career path she had. She was ‎uniquely suited to be a warrior and she could go far if ‎she got the chance. ‎

Besides, he just couldn’t see her serving in a shop ‎or working as a children’s nurse or a maid or ‎something. It just wasn’t Tren. Even the sort of ‎trading that he and his father undertook didn’t really ‎suit her. For all her complaints about the way they’d ‎been raised, the only thing that really did suit her was ‎exactly what she was doing. ‎

She was extremely athletic and what she lacked in ‎physical strength she more than made up for in agility ‎and sheer cunning spiced with a streak of ferocity that ‎made her formidable as an opponent. It was as though ‎she’d been born to hold a sword. Tif wasn’t too ‎shabby at the martial arts himself, but he had to work ‎hard for everything he achieved. ‎

For Tren, it just seemed to come naturally. Tif was ‎surprised that she’d come off as badly as she had ‎against her two assailants, actually. That was a bit of a ‎worry now that he thought of it. If they’d been just ‎ordinary footpads looking for a purse to lift, she ‎should have been able to handle them without even ‎breaking a sweat. ‎

Perhaps his father was right and there was more to ‎it. Tif couldn’t think what since he didn’t subscribe to ‎the theory that there were still dragons, and therefore ‎dragonriders, in existence any more than Tren did, but ‎he decided to keep his eyes open for trouble just the ‎same. He also decided not to tell Tren about it. He ‎was too tired to be bothered having another argument.‎

Their food arrived finally, and they sat chatting ‎about other things as they ate. Tif did most of the ‎talking, filling Tren in on all the news from back home ‎and what the various people that they’d both grown ‎up with were up to. ‎

‎Mala had a boy, just as you said she would, Tif ‎said. Her husband’s convinced that you’re a witch.‎

Tren laughed. Depends on how you define ‎witch, I suppose, she shrugged. If you care to look ‎at it one way, we’re all witches in our family because ‎we use magic.‎

‎Yes, I suppose you’re right, Tif said. You do ‎kind of draw attention to it by making these ‎predictions though, Tren.‎

‎Well, I’m not ashamed of it, Tif, Tren said. So, ‎it follows that I’m not going to hide away and pretend ‎that I am. Besides, it’s part of the great family ‎tradition, isn’t it? If they don’t like it, that’s their ‎problem. All I did was tell her it was going to be a ‎boy. I can’t see anything terribly dastardly about ‎that.‎

‎It’s just that people get a bit skittish when you ‎do weird stuff like that, Tren, Tif said. ‎

‎So? As I said, it’s their problem. I’m not going to ‎lose any sleep over it.‎

Tif left the subject there. He knew that continuing ‎to talk about it would only annoy Tren and make her ‎defensive. He moved the conversation on to some of ‎the other denizens of the village, chatting about this ‎and that in that casual way that we do about people ‎we know well. They were just finishing up with a final ‎cup of ale when Tif looked out the window and ‎stiffened.‎

‎Tren, he said quietly. There are a couple of ‎people loitering in a doorway across the way and they ‎appear to be watching this tavern. I noticed them ‎before and they’re still there. Take a look and see if ‎you recognise them.‎

‎What for? They’re probably just waiting for ‎someone.‎

Tif took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. ‎‎Please, Tren. Just humour me. It’s not actually going ‎to cost you anything.‎

‎All right, if you insist, Tren said irritably. ‎‎Which doorway?‎

‎That shop a couple of doors down to your left.‎

Tren turned her head casually that way, leaning ‎her chin on her hand as though in a brown study.‎

‎I see them. No, I don’t recognise them. They’re ‎probably just waiting for someone.‎

‎They look like fairly serious people, Tif said. ‎

‎Yeah, well, debt collectors are often tough ex-‎soldiers, and they often watch the taverns. It’s a good ‎way to find people who don’t want to be found. For ‎some reason, it never seems to occur to them that ‎someone might find them in their favourite tavern.‎

‎Or the temptation just gets too much, Tif said. ‎

‎That, too.‎

‎And you know all this, how? Tif asked.‎

Tren snorted. I’m a member of the town guard, ‎Tif. We get to either break up the fights or pick up the ‎pieces afterwards. I tell you, this job is a good way to ‎see the seamier side of town life.‎

‎I’ll bet.‎

‎Are we done here? Tren asked. Because I’m ‎feeling a bit tired after my exciting day. And probably ‎due to that damned medicine, too. Although I do ‎have to say, it’s not half as bad as some I’ve taken. ‎And it does kill the pain very efficiently.‎

‎Well, that’s good, Tif said. And you do have ‎that other medicine if you don’t feel great when you ‎wake up. Mind you, I’m not surprised you’re feeling ‎done in, even without the medicine. Let’s get out of ‎here. We have to swing past the livery stable so I can ‎pick up my bedroll, and then we could probably both ‎do with a decent night’s sleep.‎

‎No argument there, Tren said, draining her ‎tankard.‎

Brother and sister left the tavern and turned in the ‎direction of the local livery stable. ‎

‎Those two from the doorway are following us, ‎Tif said a short time later. You don’t have any ‎unpaid loans or anything, do you?‎

‎Not that I know of.‎

‎Then I don’t think they’re debt collectors.‎

‎Funny, Tren said. They’re probably just going ‎in the same direction we are. However, it has been one ‎of those days, and there’s one way to be sure. Down ‎here.‎

She grabbed Tif’s arm and cut left into an alley, ‎dragging him with her. They dashed down the alley ‎before cutting sharply right and into a deeply-‎shadowed pathway on the other side of the street. A ‎bush hung over a picket fence making it quite dark ‎and offering some cover.‎

‎Now what? Tif said as they hunkered down ‎behind the overhanging branches, peering through the ‎leaves at the street beyond.‎

‎Now we wait, Tren whispered. If they ‎followed us into that alley, they’ll be coming out any ‎moment now.‎

Full darkness had fallen while they were eating, ‎and the street was dark. There was no moon yet, and ‎no light penetrated except for the odd glow from a ‎window where a lamp burned behind the curtains. It ‎made seeing the mouth of the alley difficult, at least ‎for Tif, who was unfamiliar with it. ‎

He squinted in the direction he thought it was and ‎hoped for the best. He figured he’d at least see an ‎indication of movement if anyone came onto the ‎street. The moments crept by as Tif’s eyes adjusted to ‎the darkness. He’d just reached the point where he ‎was fairly sure he could make out the darker darkness ‎of the mouth of the alley when that darkness moved. ‎

A couple of shadows emerged onto the street, ‎really only visible as a ripple of movement and a ‎slightly darker blur among the shadows already there. ‎It wasn’t possible to see faces, just a paler blur in the ‎general darkness. A momentary glint of light spoke of ‎a drawn weapon of some kind as the shadows leaned ‎together, presumably discussing what to do next.‎

‎Apparently not debt collectors. Tren’s voice was ‎a mere thread of sound in his ear, her breath tickling ‎his cheek as she leaned close. And apparently looking ‎for us.‎

‎What now? he breathed back.‎

Tren’s hand squeezed his upper arm in a gesture ‎that clearly said, wait, be quiet. They waited, still as ‎statues in the darkness beneath the bush as the two ‎they were watching separated, one going up the street, ‎the other down. When they’d both disappeared ‎around their respective corners, Tren sprang into ‎action.‎

‎Come on.‎

She led the way in a dash back to the alley. Down ‎that, and a few moments later they re-emerged in the ‎street they’d just left. She didn’t stop but led the way ‎at a jog towards the livery stable. She slowed before ‎they reached the corner it was on and they stopped in ‎the shelter of a shop doorway. ‎

‎Okay, Tren said. I have no idea what’s going ‎on here, but I admit that it did look as though those ‎two were looking for us. One of us, anyway and, from ‎the fact they had drawn weapons, I don’t think their ‎intentions were friendly. They’re definitely not the ‎same ones who attacked me, so it’s possible that they ‎followed you. That means it’s also possible that they ‎know your horse is at the stable. We’ll have to be ‎careful here.‎

‎Yeah, I kind of figured that, Tif said. So, what ‎do you suggest? You know this town. Is there a back ‎door?‎

‎Well, yes, but if they’re watching one, they’ll ‎certainly be watching the other, Tren said. They’re ‎both about equally used. However, since the livery ‎stable is usually the first stop for people looking to ‎skip town, the Guard has a permanent watching-post ‎near here. One with a view of both doors.‎

‎Will they let us use it?‎

Tren grinned. I wasn’t actually going to bother ‎asking, she said. It’s not manned all the time. We ‎don’t have the manpower to do that. We only put ‎someone there when we’re in pursuit of someone and ‎we think they may try to leave.‎

‎Ah, Tif said. And I gather that there’s no one ‎there at the moment?‎

‎Exactly.‎

‎And you know how to get in?‎

‎Of course. Unfortunately, we can’t get to it from ‎here without passing the stable, so we’ll have to ‎backtrack and work our way around. Come on.‎

CHAPTER THREE

Tren led the way out of their hiding place and ‎back the way they’d come. Halfway down the street, ‎she ducked into an alley. Tif, perforce, followed her. ‎This was Tren’s territory. Tif didn’t know the town at ‎all well, so he had no choice but to let his sister lead. ‎Tren emerged from the alley onto the street running ‎parallel to the one they’d just left and immediately ‎turned right.‎

They stayed to the shadowy side of the street, ‎which meant frequent changes of side as they passed ‎taverns and other establishments that spilled light out ‎into the night. They passed through an intersection ‎which Tif was sure must be the street where the livery ‎stable was and kept on going until they reached ‎another street running perpendicular to the one they ‎were on. ‎

Tren turned down this, right again, until they once ‎again passed an intersection that Tif was sure led to ‎the livery stable. Yes, he could see its sign sticking out ‎from the wall down the street as he followed Tren ‎past. They only went a couple of buildings further ‎down the street they were on, and then Tren stopped ‎in front of a nondescript two-storey building that ‎looked as though it had once been a house but had ‎now been converted to other uses. ‎

A doorway led to what looked to be a shop on the ‎ground floor, now closed and bolted for the night, but ‎Tren bypassed this and made for an external staircase ‎that climbed up the side of the building. Tif followed ‎her up to a tiny landing facing a door sealed with a ‎large padlock. ‎

‎Just a moment, Tren said. ‎

She bent and withdrew a long, thin instrument ‎from inside her boot, with which she proceeded to ‎probe the lock, a look of intense concentration on her ‎face. A moment later there was a click, she gave the ‎padlock a twist, and the door was open.‎

‎Been learning new tricks, I see, Tif said with a ‎raised eyebrow as he followed her through the door.‎

‎It’s a handy one at times, that, Tren said as she ‎bent and replaced the tool in her boot. I learnt it from ‎an old burglar.‎

Tif’s other eyebrow joined the first and the two ‎migrated almost up to his hairline. Sounds like ‎you’ve made some interesting friends here in the ‎town.‎

Tren grinned. You could say that. This, as you ‎can see, is an apartment, but it’s owned by the town ‎guard. We use it as a safe house when we need one, ‎and it also comes in handy for surveillance. We want ‎to go through here. Try not to bump into anything. I ‎don’t want to make a light in case it’s seen.‎

‎Right, Tif said, once again following in his ‎sister’s wake as she began to pick her way across what ‎seemed to be a living room towards a door in the wall ‎ahead of them. ‎

It led to a large bedroom. A bed, unmade, stood ‎in the middle of the room, its head pushed against the ‎left-hand wall. A chest stood at its foot, a small ‎bedside table up near the head. Against the wall ‎where the door was was a washstand with drawers ‎underneath. In the far wall were a pair of windows ‎that let enough light into the room for him to see all ‎this, and in front of each window was a chair. ‎

‎"And here