Garrin found himself thinking with prolonged concern about his friend. Oracus had only trained for a few weeks before leaving Afarra and Garrin was worried he wasn’t ready for the dangers that awaited in Pharia. There was the Black Forest to the far south, the Grevlors and Lisors in the Eastern Mountains, several of the King's cities throughout the land which were full of soldiers, the Riders under the King’s command, and of course, the King himself. Pharia was a perilous place these days, and with only Kivali and Quent accompanying Oracus and Bandor, Garrin was worried about their wellbeing.

Garrin shook himself out of his reverie and focused on the task at hand. He was sat in the council room with Torvanon and Horvos, along with Elnir, the white-haired storyteller from Thessley.

“I have never told a soul, but I think it is time I did,” Elnir was saying, his eyes wide and his old hands shaking apprehensively. “You need to understand I am telling you this because I want to help.”

Torvanon had his fingers interlaced under his bushy orange beard. “Please tell us what you know,” he said calmly.

“Well, I was born in Melzor, the King’s city, and I lived there for many years,” Elnir started. “When I was eighteen, I was offered a job as one of King Amarad's guards. At first, I guarded the city gates and patrolled Melzor's streets, but I soon earned my place as a sentinel in the palace corridors.”

“I was also one of King Amarad’s guards.” Torvanon stated, looking curiously at Elnir. “But I don’t remember you.”

“Yet I remember you,” Elnir replied. “And that is because you look the same as you did sixty years ago. However, I am not a Rider, so time has aged me, and I have become old and withered.”

“But I do not recognise your name either,” Torvanon expressed.

“Ah, well,” Elnir sighed. “That is because Elnir is not the name I used to own. I’m sure you would remember me if I mentioned the name Fluzal to you.”

Torvanon’s eyes widened in memory. “That name I do remember, yes.”

“I changed my name so I could try and forget my dreadful past,” Elnir explained. “When you left the city, Torvanon, most of the King’s guards and soldiers left with you. But being young and foolish, I stayed for a part in Jowra's domination. For several years, Jowra travelled with Wravias and took control of cities and villages all over Pharia while I stayed and controlled the people of Melzor in his absence, feeding my hunger for power. During those years, Jowra became obsessed with Lavorians. If he wasn't brainwashing innocent villagers or building his army, he was researching Lavorians in old books and texts he had found in libraries throughout the land.” Elnir rubbed his aged hands together slowly. “To my surprise, he returned from his travels one day and presented me with an Orbular. “A gift from your King” he told me, and it was the greatest moment of my life when that Orbular broke open. My Lavorian was a Boar; Suidae I called her. She was a beautiful creature and I loved her very much – more than anything I have loved before. And as a Rider, I gained the power of telepathy; I could read the minds of anyone around me. Jowra was thrilled when he found out, he was so pleased. But I stupidly misunderstood his pleasure. I thought he was happy with me, but it was my power that he cherished. Because of my power, he knew the thoughts of everyone we encountered, and those who secretly opposed his regime were killed for their treachery. I hate to think about it now, but I was the cause of so much death. And I was naïve to believe that my position beside Jowra would last forever.” At this point, the old man’s voice began to break, and he coughed before he continued. “The King’s reliance on me was a heavy burden for him. I had a power he so desperately craved for himself, and he couldn't stop me from seeing his thoughts either. Incredibly, he didn't know what his own power was, even several years after becoming a Rider. No matter what he tried, he just couldn’t discover it, and none of his texts or books gave him an answer. He became frustrated and helpless, and relied more and more on my power to maintain his reign.” Elnir then rapped a knuckle on the table. “But in the end, his luck changed, and my world came crashing down at the same time. During an excursion to the mountains in the east, he encountered another Rider and killed him. Within a day, he returned to Melzor with a happiness in him I had never seen before. He had learned that by murdering other Riders, he would inherit their powers, and that meant there was no limit to how strong he could become.”

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“And that affected you because he no longer needed you or your power,” Torvanon presumed.

“On the contrary, it affected me because he did need me and my power,” Elnir answered. “I read his mind that day and discovered his plan to kill me and take my power. So I left Melzor with Suidae and travelled north towards the Raspian Forest. But Jowra and Wravias intercepted us before we could get there, and Suidae was killed by Wravias. She sacrificed her life to save mine, and I somehow reached the forest and found a tiny village called Thessley.” Elnir nodded his head at Garrin. “Suidae was dead and I was no longer a Rider, and unfortunately for Jowra, my power died with her. I lived for fifty years in Thessley, and I regretted the choices I made every single day. If I had never become a guard in Melzor, or if I had just followed you when you fled, Torvanon, then I may have been happy in my old age with a family who love me and without the regret of a dead Lavorian.” Elnir finished and swept the tears from his face with a handkerchief. He then pulled a smoking pipe out of his breast pocket and lit it.

“That’s quite a story,” Torvanon said. “But why tell us now?”

“I’m an old man with many secrets and not much longer to live. I needed to clear my conscience a little,” Elnir explained. “And it was a way of warning you too.”

“Warning me of what?” Torvanon questioned seriously.

“That Jowra will only strengthen as time continues to pass,” Elnir said. “There’s no time like the present.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Torvanon replied.

“Jowra doesn’t like risk,” Elnir said, and he let a long stream of smoke flow out of his nostrils. “If he hasn’t attempted to conquer this city already then he isn’t totally ready. Why wait for him to be ready?”

Torvanon bowed his head. “Thank you for the advice, Elnir. You may leave now.”

Elnir lifted himself gingerly out of his seat and returned Torvanon’s bow. He then hobbled to the door and left a trail of smoke behind him. But before he left, he turned back and spoke softly, “Will anything come of me admitting my past to you?”

Torvanon paused for a moment before replying. “Losing your Lavorian is punishment enough. I won’t be locking you away for something that happened decades ago.”

The room fell silent as Elnir exited. Garrin and Horvos both looked at Torvanon for a clue as to what he was thinking, but the slight frown on his face gave little away.

Garrin always thought he, himself, had been carrying the biggest secret in Thessley since he had bonded with Aquila, but it had been nothing compared to Elnir’s. And how wrong he had been when he had labelled Elnir an eccentric fool with a tall tale to tell. The man had once been a Rider, as well as Jowra’s right-hand man.

“Do you really intend to let him live here without making him pay for what he did?” Horvos asked Torvanon.

“You know better than that,” Torvanon replied with a glance at his army’s commander. “The man is old and full of remorse. It would be a waste of a cell if I ordered him to be imprisoned.”

“Very well. But what if he speaks of his past to drunken men in the alehouses?” Horvos said. “It would probably get him killed and cause a lot of unrest amongst the people.”

“As I understand it, he has told stories to drunken men for fifty years in Garrin’s village and never once mentioned his prior involvement with Jowra.” Torvanon looked at Garrin for clarification.

“I didn’t know any of what he just told us,” Garrin answered.

“Besides, the men in the alehouses here could probably do with hearing something entertaining for a change. Paying to hear a geriatric’s outlandish tales instead of whispering about Jowra’s oppressive tyranny will only do them good.”

Horvos grunted in response and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“And Elnir does have a point too,” Torvanon continued. “We’ve been waiting for Jowra to make the first move for years. And I’m beginning to believe we should be more daring with our strategies.”

“You want to attack Jowra first?” Horvos questioned.

“It was what Garrin suggested in our last meeting, but I was quick to shoot it down to appease Quent and Kivali. I think I was wrong.”

“Do you think we can succeed?” Horvos asked.

“I don’t want to attack Melzor right away,” Torvanon explained. “I want to destroy Alvoria first and get the soldiers home before Jowra has a chance to retaliate.”

“But we don’t know how well defended Alvoria is,” Horvos claimed.

“That is why I want Garrin and Aquila to fly there first,” Torvanon said. “They can scout the city before we commit to an attack.”

Torvanon’s sudden plan shocked Garrin and his heart began to beat faster in his chest. “When do you want me to go?” he enquired.

“Today,” Torvanon said. “The sooner we start this, the better.”

Garrin stood up and his body tingled with apprehension. “I’ll be back as soon as I can then,” he said. He then switched his attention to his Lavorian. “Aquila, get yourself ready. We’re travelling to Alvoria.”