It took a lot of persuasion for Torvanon to endorse Oracus and Bandor’s departure from Afarra. Had Kivali not been there, he would probably have refused to let them leave. Torvanon was worried about their capture; the rebellion needed as many Riders as it could gain, losing one to Jowra before the war had properly started would be a huge blow, especially when he considered the journey unnecessary.
But with a well revised route of the trip from north-west to south-east planned with Torvanon himself, and Kivali’s promise of keeping Oracus and Bandor away from danger, there was no reason for Torvanon to keep Oracus in Afarra against his will.
So, for the following week, Oracus prepared endlessly for the journey ahead. If he wasn’t eating or sleeping, then he was training in the sparring area or visiting his father’s grave or working on his connection with Bandor. Sometimes, he would sit in a quiet room and try to deduce his power. And very occasionally, he would take a lonely walk through the city and procrastinate.
When the day came for the trip to begin, Oracus walked to the field where the apple trees overlooked the ocean. He expected the journey across Pharia to be rigorous and trying, so he wanted to make the most of the peacefulness before he left.
It was a windy morning on the shore. The branches of the trees swayed clumsily, and the waves of the ocean crashed noisily onto the sand. Oracus’s hair kept wafting across his face, and he repeatedly ran his fingers through it to calm it down. He stared out at the horizon while the crisp golden leaves rolled past him.
When the time came for Oracus to return to the palace and pack his supplies, he took a route through the city that passed the cemetery. He stood by his father’s gravestone for a short time and let the tears fall, and then forced himself to go before he changed his mind about the journey. Oracus’s biggest concern was leaving his father behind, but he assured himself the grave wouldn’t disappear in his absence. When he returned, he would be able to visit his father again.
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At the palace, Oracus changed his clothes and filled a pack with food and water. He attached a sheathed sword to his belt and hooked a bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. Then together, he and Bandor navigated their way through the palace, and through the streets to the city gate.
Kivali and Quent were already waiting by the open portcullis when they arrived. With them, Garrin and Torvanon stood side by side, both smiling to hide their dismay.
“It’s about time,” Quent said with a sneer as Oracus and Bandor approached.
Kivali was much less sharp, but she didn’t look as relaxed as usual. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked.
“We’re ready to go,” Oracus answered with a nod.
“You can still change your mind though,” Garrin said. “You don’t really have to leave.”
Oracus grasped his friend in a tight hug. “I need to do this,” he whispered in his ear.
“You’ll be back soon though, won’t you?”
“As soon as I can,” Oracus replied. “Maybe Jowra will be dead by then and we can return to Thessley.”
“We can hope,” Garrin replied.
When they let go of each other, Torvanon pushed Garrin aside and embraced Oracus himself. “Be safe out there,” he warned. “And make sure you come back in one piece.” He released Oracus but then held him by the shoulders at arm’s length. He stared into Oracus’s eyes and contemplated him. “It’s been a pleasure having you here,” he said finally.
Oracus smiled warmly, but Kivali pressed for them to leave and he turned towards the drawbridge. Looking back, he waved to Garrin and Torvanon. “See you both again soon,” he said. And with Bandor beside him, he followed Kivali and Quent across the drawbridge and onto the vast fields beyond the moat.