The journey ahead was due to be treacherous. Oracus, Bandor, Kivali and Quent would travel through the Raspian Forest from west to east and only enter open land to evade Fervia, one of King Jowra’s cities in north-east Pharia. They would then travel through the Eastern Mountains to Lalacia, another of Jowra’s cities, to restock their supplies before continuing through the mountains to Tallarin.

Kivali and Quent expected the journey to span several days. It usually wouldn’t take so long, but the direct routes and tracks through Pharia were extensively patrolled by Jowra’s soldiers these days, and it was wise to stay well clear of soldiers, especially with a Lavorian present.

Since Oracus had been told the first part of their trip would be through the Raspian Forest, he had been thinking more and more about Thessley. He wondered if it would be possible to stop there on the way. But he was unsure about mentioning it to Kivali or Quent.

“Just ask them, Oracus,” Bandor said. “The worst they can say is no.”

“I guess so,” he replied. He then disconnected from Bandor’s mind and spoke aloud to Kivali and Quent. “Is there a chance we could go to Thessley?”

Quent and Kivali looked at each other. “Not a chance,” Quent said simply.

“There are things in my house that are important to me and I didn’t get chance to collect them before.”

“Soldiers will be waiting for someone to return so we won’t be going there,” Quent declared.

“What if we–”

“No means no!” he snapped, and his big ears turned red with anger. “Get it into your head.”

Bandor growled and Kivali looked from Oracus to Quent, and then back. “Maybe we could travel there to see if it’s guarded,” she suggested. “If it is then we’ll travel around it, but if it’s safe then Oracus can go to his house and gather what he needs.”

“We’ll be killed if we go there,” Quent said sharply.

“Not if we’re careful,” Kivali assured.

Quent huffed petulantly. “Fine,” he said. “But if we’re caught by King Jowra’s men then it’s on your head.”

It was still early morning and Afarra could be seen in the distance behind them. They were on the grassland that preceded the Raspian Forest, but the wall of trees ahead was getting ever larger.

“So how much further is it to Thessley?” Oracus asked as they approached the trees.

“It will take us until nightfall,” Kivali answered.

“Do you know how to get there?”

“I think so,” Kivali answered, nodding her head. “And Bandor should know the way too. Lavorians are pretty good with directions.”

As they stepped into the forest, it seemed quieter than usual. Similar to how it had been on the eerie night when Bandor fell from the sky. Other than the twigs snapping under feet, it was silent, and thick shadows lingered in places they shouldn’t. Somehow, Oracus could sense the forest was unhappy, and it seemed very unwelcoming, even to him. He wondered if the soldiers were still in there, cutting down its trees and lighting fires on its floor.

For several hours, the four of them walked through the undergrowth until they encountered the main river of the forest. Suddenly, from being surrounded by only dense trees and darkness for most of the journey, they entered a magical clearing where the autumn sunlight broke through the canopy and shined onto colourful flowers and the gently-flowing river below. There, the singing birds and chirping insects were in full voice, and their harmony mixed gloriously with the rippling water.

“This is the halfway point to Thessley,” Kivali advised. She walked to the water’s edge and refilled her flask. “Have a drink and take a rest.”

Oracus knelt on the riverbank and filled his own flask; the cold water lapped pleasantly at his fingers and distracted him from the thoughts he’d been having of the King’s soldiers. When his flask was full and he’d taken a sip, he sat down and propped himself against Bandor’s side. He took in a few deep breaths and let the scent of damp wood and flowers linger in his nostrils. The smell reminded him of when he used to hunt. As he thought about the game he used to track, he unhooked his bow from his shoulder and flexed the string.

“I used to enjoy hunting here,” Oracus said. “It was always nice to escape the village.”

“Now being here scares you?” Bandor asked.

“It feels different,” Oracus said. “I just want to go back to Thessley and it be the same as it used to be.”

Oracus rested against Bandor again and drank some more water from his flask. He thought about Thessley for a while, and then watched Kivali as she kicked off her boots and dipped her feet in the water. With the sunlight shining down on her, her hair seemed to glow.

“She’s beautiful,” Bandor said discreetly to Oracus. “You should go and talk to her.”

Across the clearing, Oracus noticed that Quent was watching Kivali too. He was sat by the stump of a dead tree and was craning his neck awkwardly to look at her. When he spotted Oracus observing him, he scowled unhappily and snapped his eyes away.

A moment later, Kivali got up from the riverbank and put her boots back on. She shook her hair and it glimmered some more, and then she walked over to Oracus and drew her sword. “Time for a bit of training?” she asked.

Oracus stood up and drew his own sword. “Sure,” he said.

When they were facing each other in the centre of the clearing, Kivali began to swirl her sword through the air and tempt Oracus to attack. When he refused, she struck at him with as much speed and venom as she could muster. Oracus swiftly blocked the attack and the birds in the branches above scattered as their swords clanged loudly together. Kivali followed up with several strikes Oracus was able to parry, then she aimed stabs at his chest and he parried them too.

“She always leaves her right hip unprotected,” Oracus heard Bandor say in his head.

Oracus continued to block Kivali's attacks until she left her right hip uncovered just like Bandor had observed. When the opportunity came, Oracus lunged and struck Kivali on her side, and then held his sword triumphantly at her throat.

Kivali winced and pushed Oracus away from her. With a groan of displeasure, she cursed him. “You were lucky,” she claimed.

They continued to spar, but Oracus being victorious for the first time over Kivali seemed only to invigorate her. For the rest of their battles, she never exposed her hip again, and she continually dealt painful strikes to Oracus’s arms, legs and body.

When they finished, Oracus washed his sweaty face in the river and splashed cool water on the worst of his cuts. By now, his one victory over Kivali was almost forgotten.

“Does Quent train with a sword?” he asked her as she joined him at the river.

Kivali raised her eyebrows at Oracus. “Does he look like he can fight?” she said quietly.

“Well, no,” Oracus admitted. “But isn’t it dangerous out here if you can’t use a sword?”

Kivali laughed. “Quent considers himself more brains than brawn. He thinks he can talk himself out of trouble,” she said. “Truth is, he’s probably more likely to talk himself into trouble.”

After resting a little longer, they progressed up-river until they found a narrow stretch of water where they could safely cross. Then, they pressed on through the forest until night approached and the light above the canopy started to fade.

“We should be there shortly,” Kivali said as she ducked under a low hanging branch.

“It’s about time,” Oracus replied, yawning and wondering how much more walking his feet could take.

No more than a few minutes later, dim light trickled through the trees ahead and they emerged from the forest and onto the edge of a field that overlooked Thessley. To their right, Oracus spotted the old barn where he had first taken Bandor. And further down the field, his father’s farmhouse stood abandoned and dark. Behind the village, the orange sun was beginning to disappear beyond the horizon.

“Come on, let’s go!” Oracus shouted as the sight of his home filled him with excitement and longing.

Quent grabbed his arm with his long, bony fingers and hissed at him, “You can’t just go stomping down there! Did I not warn you there might be soldiers here?”

Bandor growled fiercely and Quent quickly released Oracus.

“Go and get yourselves killed then,” Quent spat. “Nobody cares if you die anyway.”

“Quent!” Kivali admonished. “Will you please be civil for once?” She turned to Oracus. “He is right though. We need to scout the place for soldiers first.”

Quent smirked over Kivali’s shoulder before the four of them began to walk along the treeline. They moved slowly until they reached the bottom of the field, and each cast a sharp eye over Thessley for any movement. But by the time they came to the farmhouse, it was clear that the village wasn’t being patrolled. By the look of it, Thessley had been empty for a long time.

Much to Quent’s frustration, there was nothing to stop Oracus moving further into the village. And by the time they had stepped into the village centre, night had completely fallen. With the silver moonlight shining down, it was evident the King’s soldiers had pillaged what they could from the stalls and shops before leaving. Oracus was saddened to see shattered glass and debris scattered over the ground. And he was distraught when they left the village centre and came to the wooden houses that were now no more than piles of ash.

Fearful his house had fallen to the same fate, Oracus quickened his pace through the village streets. Thankfully, the soldiers had left his home standing, and he sighed with relief. When he reached the front door, he paused and took a breath, wondering what horror he might find inside. But when he entered, everything was as it used to be, and his eyes filled with nostalgic tears. He was in the sitting room, where his father’s rocking chair stood still and empty by the fireplace, and the scent of tobacco from his father’s pipe still lingered in the air. There were work-boots on the hearth, with dry mud from the farm still clinging to them, and a deerhide coat hanging on a hook beside the door.

Oracus proceeded into his bedroom and found everything in there untouched too. His mirror hung whole on the wall above his desk, his books were still ordered nicely on their shelf, and his collection of swords were still propped against the foot of the bed.

Oracus grabbed the sword he had been gifted by his father and studied it. It was sharper and cleaner than his other swords, and the emerald in the hilt was gleaming, even in the darkness of the house. He waved it in front of himself before fastening it to his belt, leaving his sword from Afarra in its place. Then he turned back towards the door and realised that Kivali was watching him from the doorway.

“Everything alright?” he said.

“Do you think it would be okay for us to stay here tonight?” she asked. “It's too dark outside to keep travelling and it saves us building shelter.”

“I guess so,” Oracus replied, unsure how he felt about staying in his home without his father.

“Good. I'll convince Quent we’re safe while you start the fire and cook some food.”

Soon after, Quent was sulking in the corner of the sitting area while the fireplace glowed orange and sausages from Kivali’s pack sizzled over the flames. The smell of cooking meat had filled the small house and the warmth from the fire was making Oracus drowsy.

When the sausages were cooked, Oracus served them to Kivali and Quent, and kept one for himself.

“So, what's Tallarin like?” he asked Kivali as he took a bite. He was intrigued to know what was waiting for him and Bandor in the city.

“Well, it isn't anywhere near as beautiful as Afarra,” Kivali answered. “There aren’t any sandy beaches or courtyards full of flowers. There’s just a lot of stone and dirt.”

“It sounds like you don't like it,” Oracus said, shocked by her response.

“It's not that I don't like it,” she explained. “It’s been built to protect the people from Jowra and his forces so there's nowhere I'd feel safer. But I would be lying if I said it was pretty.”

Oracus took another bite of his sausage. “If Tallarin is so well defended, maybe Jowra won't bother attacking,” he reasoned.

“Are you really that naïve?” Quent said slyly with a shake of his head. “Of course he’s going to attack.”

“It’s more a case of when,” Kivali added. “Tallarin is well fortified but Jowra is powerful and has other Riders fighting for him.”

“Other Riders?” Oracus said, alarmed.

“There are a few,” Kivali replied. “They protect some of his cities around Pharia and carry out his commands.”

“And he trusts them all?”

“Well, I believe he scares them into obeying him,” Kivali answered. “And fear can be as powerful as trust.”

“You think they’re that frightened of him?”

“Frightened?” Quent said with a snort. “They’re all terrified of him! And rightly so.”

“He's been a Rider for far longer than they have,” Kivali explained. “He’s much stronger and he has more than just one power.”

“More than one power?” Oracus repeated. “I didn’t know a Rider could have more than one!”

“Well, his power allows him to inherit another power from any Rider he kills,” Kivali said.

“Are you going to tell me he’s killed Riders in the past?” Oracus quizzed worriedly.

Quent openly laughed this time. “More than you’d dare to imagine,” he said.

Oracus looked to Kivali to deny Quent’s response, but she nodded firmly.

“It's Jowra himself that controls the number of Riders in Pharia,” she explained. “He tracks the Orbulars, the rocks that the Lavorians are born from, and has them delivered to him in Melzor where they’re introduced to slaves. Once a slave becomes a Rider, Jowra kills the slave and takes their power for himself.”

Oracus gasped, “That’s awful.”

“That isn’t all,” Kivali continued, her expression sullen. “When a Rider is killed by another Rider, their Lavorian loses its armour and becomes vulnerable like any other wild animal. Every time Jowra killed a Rider in the past, he took the armour from their Lavorian and somehow used it to build another Lavorian of his own.”

Oracus’s mouth opened in horror. “He has two Lavorians?”

“Two Dragons called Wravias and Pseubas,” Kivali answered.

“Dragons?” Oracus stammered. He tried to imagine what they would look like, and how big they might be. No wonder Jowra was feared.

Bandor raised his head at the mention of other Lavorians. “Has anyone ever made a Lavorian before?” he asked.

“Never,” Kivali replied. “If he hadn’t done it, I would tell you it’s impossible.”

“And has he bonded with it like his other Lavorian?”

“As far as we know, yes,” Kivali said.

From the corner of the room, Quent yawned loudly. “I think we should all get some sleep now instead of talking about this nonsense.”

“We do have another long day tomorrow,” Kivali agreed. “Let’s get some rest and continue this conversation in the morning.”

Everybody prepared themselves to sleep in the sitting area by the warm fire. Before long, soft snores were rippling through the room, but Oracus stayed awake for a while longer, reminiscing about his life in Thessley, and thinking over his fondest memories. Leaning against Bandor’s side in his old home gave him a strange feeling of both comfort and regret, and he wondered if he would ever spend another night there after this one.

When he finally convinced himself to close his eyes, Oracus took in deep breaths full of the scent of burning logs and let the slow rise and fall of Bandor’s chest send him to sleep. There, he dreamt about Dragons and Riders.

*

Bandor awoke abruptly and lifted his head, his ears raised attentively. Something had roused him from his sleep, but whether it was a noise or merely his imagination he was not sure. The flames in the fireplace had burnt out and left the room in nothing but darkness, but Bandor could see as clearly as if it were daytime. The others were asleep, all peaceful and still. Kivali and Quent were lying on the other side of the room, while Oracus had slumped onto his side.

A sound outside made Bandor turn to the door. It was probably just a rat or a fox, but his thin, metal tail flicked anxiously nevertheless. For a few seconds, he waited in complete silence, wondering if the culprit had gone, but then the distressing sound of crunching gravel and hushed whispers grasped his ears.

“Yes, he said he'd seen light in the window,” one voice muttered.

“But nobody's been here for months, who'd show up now?” another voice replied.

“I don't know but it's that house there.”

“The one with the fence?”

“Yes.”

Bandor stood quickly and Oracus’s head clunked onto the wooden floor.

“What’s wrong?” he grumbled.

“They know we're here, get up,” Bandor said sharply.

“They know who's what?” Oracus replied sleepily.

“The King’s soldiers. We hve to leave. Get up now!”

Oracus almost leaped out of his skin, “The King's wha-”

“Ssssh, they'll hear you!”

From across the room, Kivali stirred. “What's going on?” she mumbled.

“There are soldiers outside,” Bandor whispered urgently to her. “We have to get out of here.”

Kivali came to her senses much quicker than Oracus had. She shook Quent's leg to wake him and grabbed the sword that was still attached to her belt. She moved silently to the window at the front of the house and then immediately turned away from it. “Everybody move to the back of the house!” she demanded. “They’re here.”

Quent scurried to the backdoor and Bandor watched Oracus follow him. But before Bandor could join them, the backdoor was hit from the outside with such force that it came off its hinges and knocked Oracus and Quent off their feet.

As the door crashed to the floor, a huge man stepped into the house and looked down at the mess he had caused. He stood taller and wider than any man Bandor had seen before and his skin was a dull shade of grey. He held a huge hammer in his hand, and his colossal torso was covered by crimson armour. The man moved further into the room and the broken door crunched under his heavy boots. He paused over Oracus’s recumbent body and Bandor growled fiercely, warning him not to advance any further. But the man just smiled, and that’s when Bandor noticed his eyes were as yellow as lamplight.

For a second, Bandor held the intruder’s eye, and then he prepared to attack. But before he could launch himself forwards, Kivali’s hand grasped his mane and the house started to spin around them. The man with grey skin and yellow eyes disappeared, so too did Oracus and Quent, and a darkness like Bandor had never experienced momentarily washed over him. Next thing he knew, he was stood beside Kivali within a dense patch of trees in the Raspian Forest.

Bandor was unsure what had just happened, or how he and Kivali had been transported out of Thessley. But when he looked up at her, he saw only an expression of utter terror on her face.