Alvoria was a city only a few miles south of the Raspian Forest, and within a stone’s throw of the expanse of water known as Bulu Lake. It was so small, it appeared to be more a village than a city, and when Garrin scouted it with Aquila, it had been remarkably unsecure. He hadn't witnessed colossal walls and vast lines of defences, with turrets manned by hundreds of archers. Instead, he had seen a few wooden buildings built upon a deep mine full of explosives, with only a hundred soldiers stopping him from wreaking havoc.

It would have been easy for Garrin to fly back to Afarra and allow Torvanon to decide how they should proceed. After all, he had only been sent there to observe. However, Garrin was keen to prove himself to Torvanon, and by destroying Alvoria singlehandedly, he would undoubtedly do that.

At daybreak on the day following his and Aquila’s arrival, a large cart was drawn towards Alvoria’s gate by two horses. Using Aquila’s incredible sight, Garrin could see the cargo was stored in barrels, and that’s when he seized his opportunity.

“This is our chance,” he said to Aquila. “Let’s go.”

In a smooth movement he had made a thousand times before, he grasped the reins around the Eagle’s neck and swung a leg over her back. Then Aquila took off and the wind whipped Garrin’s blonde hair back and forth across his face.

When they had ascended to several-hundred feet, Garrin’s stomach lurched.

“You’re nervous,” Aquila pointed out.

“Not of being so high,” Garrin explained. “I just don’t want to mess this up.”

Beneath them, the horse-drawn cart looked miniscule. It was like an ant approaching the entrance to an anthill.

“Now is our time,” Aquila stated. “Prepare your arrow.”

Garrin took both hands from Aquila’s reins as she hovered carefully. He gripped her back tighter between his thighs and then pulled an arrow from his quiver. With a match, he lit the arrow, and then nocked it to his bow.

“Are you ready?” Aquila urged.

“I’m always ready,” Garrin fired back.

Aquila tucked her wings into her sides and dived towards the city gate at speed. This time, flying was what caused Garrin’s stomach to lurch.

As Aquila came to a hover again above the city wall, Garrin could hear the frightened shouts of the alerted guards. He drew on his bowstring and released the arrow at the cart.

His shot was true, and the fiery arrow pierced a barrel. Within a second, the cart exploded, and a ball of flames rose up into the sky. The heat from the explosion singed the hairs on Garrin’s face, and Aquila retreated to a safer distance.

“That was close,” Garrin said, rubbing his cheeks.

“But it worked,” Aquila replied. “Look!”

Where the cart had been passing through the city gate, a huge hole had been made in the wall and a dozen buildings nearest the explosion had been destroyed. A fire raged, and it swept through the city hungrily.

Many of the guards had died to the explosion, but the rest were screaming orders to their comrades in the hope of finding some organisation. Garrin and Aquila descended into the city and found a spot free of fire and smoke, but it soon became clear the enemy soldiers sought that area too.

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Garrin loosed several arrows as the enemy approached, he then alighted Aquila and drew his sword.

“Keep them worried about what flies above,” Garrin ordered. “I’ll fight them off from down here.”

Aquila did as she was told and took off into the air once again. Meanwhile, Garrin began to cut down the foes who reached him first.

The smell of fire and smoke drifted on the air, and Alvoria was soon a scene of devastation. As bloodied men fell beneath Garrin’s sword and Aquila’s talons, it resembled more of a massacre than a battle. And whenever the enemy appeared to regroup and come forward as one, Garrin would use his power to create a whirlwind of dirt that engulfed them and broke their unity.

“I think they’re almost defeated,” Garrin said much sooner than he could ever have hoped. As he spoke, an arrow whistled past his face and disappeared into the smoke behind him. “Kill the rest of their archers and we’ll get out of here!”

But the words had barely left his mouth when the ground trembled beneath his feet.

He stopped in his tracks and turned towards where the entrance of the city had been obliterated. “What was that?” he said.

It took a moment, but Aquila’s reply came clear and fearful, “It's a Lavorian!”

Garrin's body filled with dread. “Please tell me it’s a friendly Lavorian.”

“If enormous and angry means friendly, then yes, it’s friendly,” Aquila answered.

Rooted to the spot, Garrin stared to the south as every tremor that followed came more intense than the last. “Are those its footsteps?” he cried.

It suddenly became Garrin’s greatest wish that the smoke would keep him hidden. But when the Lavorian reached the city, it smashed through what remained of the wall and seemed to buffet the smoke away with its enormous body.

The Lavorian was an Elephant, and it was truly colossal. Each of its legs was like a tree that had been growing for a thousand years, and its body and head were beyond comparison. Beneath its searching eyes, its trunk swung like a giant pendulum.

Craning his neck, Garrin could see up to a man who stood on the Elephant’s head, and he was so high up he appeared no bigger than an insect. But in no time, the Rider had jumped from the Lavorian’s head and slid down its trunk with impeccable balance, before landing delicately on the ground a few yards away from Garrin.

“What a strange circumstance we find ourselves in,” the man said. He was a little older than Garrin, perhaps mid-twenties, and he carried himself with a sickening arrogance. He had short black hair and olive skin, and thin white stripes had been painted beneath his eyes. “I’m Zarad. And he’s Mammat,” the man finished, pointing first at himself and then at his Lavorian.

Garrin was too shaken to respond to Zarad

“A man destroys a city alone but is then too frightened to speak when faced by a Rider and Lavorian,” Zarad said with a malevolent grin. “Surely not?”

“I’m not scared of you!” Garrin shouted, finally finding his voice.

Zarad seemed amused. “You realise this is King Jowra’s city, right?” he asked. “Why would you want to provoke him?”

“Keep him talking,” Aquila said inside Garrin’s mind. “I’ll get us out of here when he’s distracted.”

“More silence?” Zarad went on. “You must be really terrified.” The Rider took several steps towards Garrin, leaving only a small distance between them. “I suppose I should give you a choice: you can either surrender and agree to join King Jowra’s forces, or I can kill you right here and end this madness.” He looked around at the buildings that were still crackling with flames. “What will it be?”

“I would never fight for Jowra!” Garrin exclaimed.

“So be it.”

Behind Zarad, Mammat reared onto his hind legs and produced a deafening sound through his trunk. When his front feet hit the ground again, the force of the quake knocked Garrin off his feet and onto his back.

“Any last words before you die?” Zarad asked, now with triumph dancing in his eyes.

“Aquila! Now!” Garrin bellowed.

Zarad looked confused in the second before Garrin flung dirt in his face. And before the King’s Rider could do anything, Aquila had swooped through the city and plucked Garrin from the ground with her talons. The titanic trunk of Mammat attempted to swat them from the sky, but Aquila was too agile and spiralled acrobatically through the air to avoid it.

It was a time to be relieved when they reached the puffy clouds that hung over Alvoria. And as they started their flight back to Afarra, Garrin was sure he could still hear Zarad’s cries of fury coming from the destruction they had left in their wake.