Oracus: The Lavorian Rider

Thirty-Two - Accept Or Die

Oracus sat with his mother and father in their home in Thessley, talking in front of the fire. The warmth of the flames was blissful, but not so much as the love he felt when the three of them were together. Oracus's heart fluttered joyously; a family who made him feel happy and safe was what he'd desired above all else, and he would cherish the feeling like no other.

But there was something missing in their cosy, thatched house – it was a presence in his mind he had become very accustomed to recently. Bandor.

There was a moment of regret as Oracus realised he would have to let Bandor go. It was a shame, but he had his family with him now, and all was peaceful. He closed his eyes and soaked up the joy.

Then there was a sharp knock at the door.

"That'll be Broid," his father advised, lifting himself from his chair.

The knock sounded again, loud and impatient this time.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming!" Padaquin shouted.

A loud crash thundered through the house as the door was kicked off its hinges. Gravaz stood imperious in the doorway with Lapsin by his side.

"Who are you?" Oracus's father demanded.

Gravaz stooped through the doorway and struck Padaquin's face with his fist. "I am Gravaz, trusted servant of King Jowra."

Catania screamed and Oracus jumped from his seat. He tried to link his mind with Bandor's and summon his power but realised he was no longer a Rider.

Gravaz laughed sadistically. "Men usually kneel when I enter a room," he said arrogantly.

"I will never kneel to you!" Oracus refused. He faced the Ulatori bravely, but Gravaz's fist met his stomach and his legs buckled.

"That's better," Gravaz said as Oracus dropped to his knees. "Now you will accompany me to Melzor. You can watch your mother and father being fed to Wravias and Pseubas in the keep–"

Icy water splashed over Oracus's face and wrenched him from his dream of Gravaz and his parents. A distressing mixture of relief and pain coursed through his body.

His hands were bound above his head and he hung several feet in the air from a frame in a small village square. Snow and frost covered the rooftops of surrounding wooden buildings, and the icy air gnawed at his bare skin. He had been stripped of his clothes and his weapons had been taken from him too. He was alone and vulnerable on the square, but a hundred yellow eyes were staring at him from all around. Powerful men and women wearing long, fur robes were everywhere. They were Ulatoris, just like Gravaz, all several feet taller than Oracus with the same grey skin. Even in his drowsy state, the sight of the Ulatoris made Oracus try to free himself. He yanked at the vines binding his wrists, but to no avail.

"State your business here, Rider!" An Ulatori with an ugly crown on his head stomped across the square. He was colossal, even compared to the other Ulatoris, and he towered over Oracus. He was bare-chested, despite the temperature, and his muscular torso was half covered in tattoos. "STATE YOUR BUSINESS HERE!" he bellowed again, spraying spittle from his huge mouth.

"I don't know where I am," Oracus said fearfully.

The Ulatori growled loudly and the crowd to his rear growled with him. Some of them jeered and waved their hands unhappily.

"You are in Valaroth, Human. Home of the Ulatoris. Now tell me why you are here before I kill you."

"I'm here by mistake," Oracus said. "I didn't mean to intrude." He searched for Bandor's mind but felt nothing. His fear increased tenfold.