Oracus: The Lavorian Rider

Twenty-Two - The Princess Of Tallarin

The next two days went Grevlor- and Lisor-free. Only wild birds and the occasional rabbit crossed the group's path. The weather was pleasant for most of the journey, except when the intensity of the sun became too much at around midday. But at least there was no rain, and that allowed the fragrant scents of the mountain flowers to spread.

Oracus and Kivali sparred regularly during the remainder of their trip, much to the amusement of their new spectators. Morpac and Uswir, as the two men had introduced themselves, enjoyed applauding Kivali's frequent victories and grumbling whenever Oracus's sword found its mark. Perhaps they considered Kivali the more attractive fighter.

But all-in-all, Morpac and Uswir were good company. Despite their ordeal, they were very friendly and told some compelling stories. Morpac, the prisoner who had been struck by the Lisor, was tall and slender, and he had no hair on his head. Other than the bruising on his eye and the redness on his neck where the sun had burnt him, he was very pale. Uswir, on the other hand, was dark-skinned and short. He was more muscular than Morpac, and he had a lot of dark facial hair and very bushy eyebrows. Both men were metal workers, and spent a lot of their time forging weaponry, so Oracus was intrigued by their knowledge.

By the time they were almost at Tallarin, Oracus had improved his power too. If he concentrated hard enough, he was now capable of teleporting short distances successfully. But being able to teleport during combat like Kivali had in the cave required a whole lot more skill. Every time he focused on using Kivali's power while they sparred, he would forget to block her sword and end up receiving a fierce blow to the ribs.

When the group eventually began their descent of the mountain path, Oracus had his first view of Tallarin's huge defensive wall. Strategically built between the mountains on either side, the two-hundred foot wall was black and intimidating, and shielded the city behind it. Oracus had seen the wall once before during one of his dreams of Catania.

"It looks exactly as it did in my vision," he told Bandor nervously.

The closer they came to the wall, the more colossal it seemed to become. And by the time they were stood at its base, Oracus could no longer see the watchtowers that sat atop it. At different levels, archers peered at them through arrowslits in the blocks, and Oracus's stomach squirmed with fear.

"Halt!" a voice bellowed from an aperture in the wall ahead of them. "State your business here."

"Two of us are messengers returning home," Kivali replied. "Two are rescued prisoners. And the other two are guests from Afarra – a Rider and Lavorian, no less."

"You will proceed one at a time," the voice returned. "And if you disobey my commands, you will be killed."

With the sound of a chain being released, a thick iron door in the wall began to open. Behind the door, a man wearing a blue robe was waiting with his fingers caressing the handle of his sheathed sword.

"It's much stricter here than it was when I arrived at Afarra," Oracus whispered out the corner of his mouth.

"Just answer their questions and you'll be fine," Kivali responded.

Individually, the six were ushered forwards and each taken into a separate inspection room within the wall. In Oracus's room, a woman was waiting for him.

"Sit down," she ordered him.

Oracus took to the only chair in the room, it was metal and cold.

"Where have you travelled from?" the woman asked sternly.

"From Afarra," Oracus replied.

"And you have always lived in Afarra?" the woman said quickly.

"No, I lived in a village called Thessley until quite recently."