Choosing a name was difficult, Oracus thought. He must have considered and ultimately rejected a thousand names for the Lion-like creature in the last few hours, and he still couldn't make up his mind.

It was mid-afternoon, and he was in a run-down barn at the far side of his father's farmland, lying on a spilled bale of hay with the cub curled up beside him. He had been in the barn since daybreak, with his sodden clothes slowly drying after he had carried the Lion through the forest in the storm. With Thessley being so small, the barn was the only place Oracus knew that would keep the cub out of sight from the locals – nobody but Oracus and his father had been there in several years.

Other than a few murmurs, the Lion hadn't stirred from its sleep, but Oracus had struggled to keep his eyes off it. With metal fur protecting its whole body and silver teeth and claws like tiny knives, it was a creature he couldn’t help but admire. Watching its chest rise and fall with every sleepy breath, he wondered for hours what it was, and where it might have come from. He had never heard of rocks falling from the sky before, and he had never known of curious beasts being born from rocks either. But what concerned Oracus most of all was that the rock and creature seemed to have fallen for him, either by luck or mistake. And he had no idea what he was supposed to do about it.

But it wasn’t just the appearance of the Lion that worried Oracus, he was also unsure how the villagers would react should they discover it. He doubted they would want to do anything other than kill it and discard of it. Anything out of the ordinary was frowned upon in Thessley, much like knowledge of the rest of Pharia, or Elnir’s foolish stories. But Oracus felt a strange connection with the creature, and he had no intention of giving it up, no matter how forceful the villagers might be.

Oracus fidgeted anxiously and the cub slowly roused from its repose. It looked up at him with sleepy yellow eyes, then rose to its feet and stretched. After raising its head and sniffing the air, it padded carefully across the barn with its nose pressed against the ground. Within seconds, its alert body had stiffened and it began to prowl towards the corner of the barn with unblinking concentration. Oracus watched in awe as the cub leaped and dived at the floor with astonishing speed, and then trotted triumphantly towards him with a limp mouse in its jaws.

Oracus gasped as a thought suddenly struck him. The Lion had reminded him of a line written in The Beasts of Legend:

Undetectable and silent, the Bandor only ever reveals itself when its teeth are clamped securely around its victim's throat.

“Bandor!” Oracus shouted happily. “Your name is Bandor!”

The Lion purred, and then started to tear into the helpless mouse’s flesh.

It hadn’t occurred to Oracus that Bandor might require food. And now he doubted that the infestation of rodents would keep him sufficiently nourished for more than a couple of days. Oracus would have to travel into the Raspian Forest and hunt. And with an extra mouth to feed than just himself and his father, he would need more than just a few rabbits, he would probably need a deer.

“I'm going to get you some more food,” Oracus said, getting up. Bandor looked at him briefly, with blood dripping down his silver chin. “You're not to leave this barn, okay?”

Unsurprisingly, there was no reply, but Oracus somehow knew that the Lion had understood him. He paused for a moment and grimaced as the last of the meat was removed from the mouse’s tiny bones, then turned on his heels and left.

Oracus ate and bathed at home before grabbing his bow and arrows for the hunting trip in the forest. The forest seemed more welcoming in the daylight, with birdsong floating through the branches and the scent of flowers rich in the air. But the strange occurrences from the night before still left Oracus feeling wary.

As the undergrowth thickened and the bright sunlight was hindered by a denser canopy above, Oracus spotted hoof marks in the dirt and signs that deer had been feeding on the bushes around him. All concerns of the forest left him as he focused on the spoor. It appeared that the herd had been spooked recently and fled east, leaving distinctive tracks in their wake. Oracus quickly pursued the deer and hoped they hadn’t travelled too far; dragging a whole deer carcass for miles through the forest would take hours or days, time that he would rather spend back in Thessley with Bandor.

After an hour of pushing through the trees and bushes as fast as he could, Oracus sensed that he was nearing his prey. He slowed to a halt, listened cautiously, and then crept for a while longer until he spotted two bucks and four doe drinking from a stream in a clearing. Still undetected and hidden behind the trees, Oracus carefully slid an arrow from his quiver and nocked it to his bowstring. He chose the smallest of the females as his target and focused his aim. But as he drew the arrow back towards his cheek, the herd sensed a threat and scattered. In a moment of panic, Oracus released the arrow and watched it sail harmlessly past the deer and into the forest beyond. The deer escaped into the trees, and Oracus was left to toss his bow aside in frustration.

He slumped against the trunk of a tree and sighed. He had been so close. Now he would have to pursue the deer further into the forest or locate another herd nearer to Thessley. For a while longer, he sat and thought, then he approached the stream to take a drink. The clearing through which the stream passed was filled with the sound of trickling water. Trees in the clearing were sparse, but colourful flowers sprouted near the water’s edge and mushrooms were grouped in the damp shadows of dead stumps. Where the trees were missing, sunlight shone down and bounced off the surface of the water, filling the air with warmth.

As Oracus stood after quenching his thirst, he took a deep breath and tasted smoke on the breeze. He looked around himself, puzzled. Then the distant blast of an unfamiliar horn made his heart stop in his chest.

Apprehension flooded his body, and he found himself dashing out of the clearing and towards the origin of the noise. For half a mile, he ran, and the scent of the smoke became stronger with every step he took until he found himself on the brim of a huge hollow that looked down at dozens of grand white tents with hundred of soldiers stomping between them.

The soldiers wore crimson battle robes and armour, with swords on their waists and metal shields strapped to their backs. Each one looked fierce and unpleasant, unlike anyone Oracus had seen before in Thessley, and at the centre of them all, a colossal campfire billowed black smoke high into the sky.

Oracus watched the camp for as long as he dared. The soldiers were loud and aggressive, often breaking into fights amongst themselves. And if they weren’t beating each other with fists, they were cutting chunks of meat off a wild boar that had been spitroasted over the fire, or downing flagons of ale. When Oracus had seen enough, he left the hollow behind him and ran as fast as he could back to Thessley, hoping the people of the village would believe him when he told them soldiers were stationed in the forest.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

After what seemed like hours, Oracus stumbled onto the path that led to his house and gulped deep breaths of air. The orange sun was lowering behind the thatched houses as he bounded over the gate and crashed through his front door. He shouted for his father, but it looked like the house had been empty for several hours, so he knocked on the doors of his neighbours, but all those houses appeared vacant too.

Oracus’s worry soon became panic. Desperate to find someone, he rushed to the village centre and found all the shops and stalls dark and deserted; even the Old Mill was void of light and music. He spun around and squinted into the windows of the shops, hoping that someone would jump out and yell “Surprise!” at the top of their voice. But it was clear this was no elaborate joke. Thessley had been abandoned, and Oracus was all by himself.

Sheer desperation had now set in, and Oracus wondered what had driven the villagers away. Had they already been warned of the soldiers in the forest? Had they seen the smoke rising into the sky from their camp maybe? Or was it because–

“Oh no,” Oracus uttered to himself. “Bandor!”

Oracus was swiftly on the move again, bundling through his father’s farmhouse and into the field behind, pleading silently that the Lion was still in the derelict barn. He raced across the grass, which was now in the shadow of dusk, and heard a voice bellow at him from the farmhouse he had just ran through.

Oracus stopped in his tracks and turned, hoping it was a villager who had shouted him. Instead, he found himself staring at four muscular soldiers in red armour, all wearing helmets that covered their heads and faces.

Together, the soldiers advanced, and one of them removed his helmet. He bellowed again, this time with words that Oracus could understand. “What is your business here, boy?”

All four soldiers drew their swords as they neared, and Oracus gasped as he saw how grotesque the leader was. A broad, bald man with a face so badly scarred it barely resembled a face. He had only one ear and his nose had been partially cut off, and all but three of his teeth were missing from a slanted mouth.

“What is your business here, boy?” the monstrous man repeated impatiently.

Oracus’s hands began to shake and his heart thundered in his chest. He was terrified, but he tried his best not to show it. “This is my village,” he shouted. “I live here.”

The man looked around and shrugged. “Do you live here alone? I see nobody else.”

“No, a lot of people live here. And you’ll be sorry when they return!"

The man turned to his accomplices and laughed loudly. “We’ll kill anybody who opposes us,” he said. “And a handful of peasants wielding sticks won’t scare us.”

Oracus could see the men were far from concerned by his threat. And maybe it wasn’t wise of him to be so hostile when he was standing alone against them. “Then take whatever you want and leave,” he offered.

The man gave a lopsided smile. “Give us the Lavorian and we’ll be on our way.”

The proposal was such an unexpected one it took Oracus’s breath away. A Lavorian? The creature that Elnir had mentioned during his story the night before? Hadn’t he said the King had total control over the Lavorians and who became their Riders? Surely the soldier was mistaken.

And then it was like someone flicked a switch in Oracus’s head. How had he not realised it before? Bandor was a Lavorian! He was exactly as Elnir had described. And the man in the field was demanding to be given Bandor so he could take him back to the King.

Oracus’s mind was suddenly spinning so quickly that he struggled to comprehend everything he had learned during the last day. But the one thing he was sure about was that he wasn’t willing to hand Bandor over, especially to men who hadn’t been invited into his village. Feeling a surge of hatred and reckless courage, he no longer cared for stalling the soldiers – he wanted them dead.

Without consideration, he pulled the bow from his back, nocked an arrow to the string and fired it at the grotesque soldier’s face. The arrow was shot perfectly, but with the speed and precision of nothing Oracus had seen before, the man unsheathed his sword and swatted it away like an annoying fly.

“Wrong move, boy,” the man said fiercely.

Oracus’s bow-arm slumped to his side as the four men all started to advance. He wanted to load another arrow, but he was too scared to move. Dread had turned his limbs heavy, and he was sure his life was about to end. The darkness closed in on him, and trepidation gnawed at his bones.

“Please, I don’t want to die!” he begged.

But as the words left his mouth, a ferocious shriek erupted from the sky above and brought the four soldiers to a halt. They looked blindly into the night and Oracus’s spirits rose. Then, without warning, two of the four were wrenched out of sight by a huge creature Oracus couldn’t make out in the darkness. Terrified screams echoed all around the field until silence fell. Then a gust of wind ruffled Oracus’s hair as the unseen beast shot past him with astonishing speed and carried the third soldier into the night, leaving the deformed man all alone.

“Show yourself!” the man demanded as he swung his sword hopelessly through the air.

Another screech pierced the night and a huge creature descended from the sky. Oracus fell backwards in fear, while the soldier took several steps back at the sight of his enemy.

When the beast’s claws touched the ground, Oracus could see it was a bird of some kind, but it stood taller than him and had wings as wide as three barns. The bird’s beak looked as sharp as any weapon, and it carried the same armour as Bandor, yet the bird's armour was not of fur, but feathers. Looking closely, Oracus noticed the bird resembled the Eagles he had sometimes seen soaring over the canopy of the Raspian Forest whilst hunting. But this Eagle was much larger, and it had a bridle circling its head, with reins being held by a Rider on its saddled back.

“You should not be here,” the Rider shouted forcefully at the soldier. He dismounted the Eagle and pulled his silver sword free of its sheath. Oracus could not see his face, but his hair was blonde and wavy. “Leave now or I will kill you.”

The soldier gathered himself and puffed out his chest. “There are hundreds of soldiers ready to take over this village. Do you plan to kill them all?”

“I gave you a chance,” the Rider said coolly. Then he swiftly moved towards the soldier, knocked aside his raised weapon, and thrust a fatal stab into his heart. He held his sword in place for long enough to see the life drain from his victim’s eyes, and then slowly withdrew it, leaving the once powerful man to slump lifelessly onto the ground.

For a short time, the Rider kept his back to Oracus, as if deliberately keeping his identity a secret.

“Who are you?” Oracus stammered.

Eventually, the Rider turned around and revealed a familiar face that Oracus hadn’t expected.

“Garrin?”

His best friend was stood before him with blood on his hands and a glumness in his eyes. He looked exhausted and apprehensive.

Oracus remained on the ground, worried his legs wouldn’t support him if he stood. “Garrin, what’s going on?”

“I can't tell you here, Oracus. We need to leave.”

“You just killed that man!” Oracus stated, pointing at the dead body on the grass by Garrin’s feet.

“Seriously, we need to go,” Garrin urged.

With shock preventing him adhering to his friend’s order, Oracus switched his attention to the Eagle. “Is that a Lavorian?”

“Oracus, listen to me. In a few minutes this field will be full of soldiers wanting to kill us. If we don't go now, we might not leave with our lives.”

Garrin’s plead brought Oracus to his senses and he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “What shall we do then?” he asked.

Garrin sheathed his sword and marched towards the Eagle. “Ride together,” he said.

Oracus began to follow, but then remembered Bandor was still in the barn. He couldn’t just leave him there for the soldiers to find. “Garrin, wait for me!” he shouted.

Before Garrin could respond, Oracus had set off at a sprint towards the barn. When he reached the door, he kicked it open and rushed inside, and found Bandor waiting patiently for his return.

“We’re leaving,” Oracus said simply. He scooped Bandor into his arms and crashed back out the door again.

As the night air hit Oracus’s face, he heard the bellow of a nearby horn and spotted a hundred fiery torches floating onto the field. Panic began to set in, and he ran as fast as he could back to where Garrin and the Eagle were waiting.

When Oracus reached them, Garrin helped him onto the Eagle’s back and then pulled himself into the saddle, just as the soldiers were beginning to close in.

“Brace yourself,” Garrin warned, and the Eagle spread its gigantic wings and took off.

Cold wind washed over Oracus’s skin as the Eagle rose. Beneath them, outraged shouts left the mouths of the soldiers, and arrows were loosed from their bows. Many of the arrows clanged against the Eagle’s metal underbelly, but some whistled past Oracus’s ears and into the darkness above.

Finally, as Thessley and the soldiers were left behind, Oracus breathed a huge sigh of relief. It had been touch and go for a moment, but he had somehow escaped with his life. Just.