Oracus: The Lavorian Rider

Fifteen - Return To Thessley

After resting a little longer, they progressed up-river until they found a narrow stretch of water where they could safely cross. Then, they pressed on through the forest until night approached and the light above the canopy started to fade.

"We should be there shortly," Kivali said as she ducked under a low hanging branch.

"It's about time," Oracus replied, yawning and wondering how much more walking his feet could take.

No more than a few minutes later, dim light trickled through the trees ahead and they emerged from the forest and onto the edge of a field that overlooked Thessley. To their right, Oracus spotted the old barn where he had first taken Bandor. And further down the field, his father's farmhouse stood abandoned and dark. Behind the village, the orange sun was beginning to disappear beyond the horizon.

"Come on, let's go!" Oracus shouted as the sight of his home filled him with excitement and longing.

Quent grabbed his arm with his long, bony fingers and hissed at him, "You can't just go stomping down there! Did I not warn you there might be soldiers here?"

Bandor growled fiercely and Quent quickly released Oracus.

"Go and get yourselves killed then," Quent spat. "Nobody cares if you die anyway."

"Quent!" Kivali admonished. "Will you please be civil for once?" She turned to Oracus. "He is right though. We need to scout the place for soldiers first."

Quent smirked over Kivali's shoulder before the four of them began to walk along the treeline. They moved slowly until they reached the bottom of the field, and each cast a sharp eye over Thessley for any movement. But by the time they came to the farmhouse, it was clear that the village wasn't being patrolled. By the look of it, Thessley had been empty for a long time.

Much to Quent's frustration, there was nothing to stop Oracus moving further into the village. And by the time they had stepped into the village centre, night had completely fallen. With the silver moonlight shining down, it was evident the King's soldiers had pillaged what they could from the stalls and shops before leaving. Oracus was saddened to see shattered glass and debris scattered over the ground. And he was distraught when they left the village centre and came to the wooden houses that were now no more than piles of ash.

Fearful his house had fallen to the same fate, Oracus quickened his pace through the village streets. Thankfully, the soldiers had left his home standing, and he sighed with relief. When he reached the front door, he paused and took a breath, wondering what horror he might find inside. But when he entered, everything was as it used to be, and his eyes filled with nostalgic tears. He was in the sitting room, where his father's rocking chair stood still and empty by the fireplace, and the scent of tobacco from his father's pipe still lingered in the air. There were work-boots on the hearth, with dry mud from the farm still clinging to them, and a deerhide coat hanging on a hook beside the door.

Oracus proceeded into his bedroom and found everything in there untouched too. His mirror hung whole on the wall above his desk, his books were still ordered nicely on their shelf, and his collection of swords were still propped against the foot of the bed.

Oracus grabbed the sword he had been gifted by his father and studied it. It was sharper and cleaner than his other swords, and the emerald in the hilt was gleaming, even in the darkness of the house. He waved it in front of himself before fastening it to his belt, leaving his sword from Afarra in its place. Then he turned back towards the door and realised that Kivali was watching him from the doorway.

"Everything alright?" he said.

"Do you think it would be okay for us to stay here tonight?" she asked. "It's too dark outside to keep travelling and it saves us building shelter."