Oracus found himself face to face with Garrin under the shadow of the palace the next morning. It was early, and the air was still cool, but it was to be a sunny day in Afarra once again.

They occupied the gravel sparring area to the rear of the palace, which was long and thin, with several archery targets to one side. It was better maintained than the training area in Thessley, as you would expect, but it was far less busy. It seemed the soldiers of Afarra didn’t do their training at dawn; so Oracus and Garrin were alone.

Oracus was stood in the green leather armour he had taken from the armoury, and he also had a lightweight helmet perched on his head. Garrin mirrored him, and they both held a silver sword in their hands with a plain golden handle.

“Should I assume now that I'm actually much worse at sword fighting than you?” Oracus asked. “It would be naïve of me to think the Garrin I sparred with in Thessley a few days ago was the real Garrin. I’ve seen you kill a man since.”

Garrin smiled knowingly. “I won't let you off as lightly as I did before. You're a good swordsman though, Oracus. That much is clear.”

Oracus attempted to prove Garrin right and charged with his sword raised, determined to catch his friend off-guard. He swung for the head, but Garrin deflected the strike and retaliated with a blow that knocked Oracus to the ground.

“You’re better than that,” Garrin said simply, and he gestured for Oracus to get back to his feet.

When he was ready, Oracus tried again to defeat his opponent quickly. He thrust at Garrin and tried to stab his chest, but the attack was dodged and Oracus found himself on his back again.

He remained recumbent for a moment to regain some of the air that had been knocked out his lungs. When he got up, he decided being smarter with his attacks might be the best way to outwit Garrin. He raised his sword until the hilt was level with his face, then he feigned to strike Garrin’s left, but instead, turned and swung at his right shoulder. Garrin cleverly anticipated the move, ducked under Oracus’s sword and swiped his legs from beneath him. For the third time, Oracus hit the floor hard.

The humiliation of defeat endured for a further half hour. Oracus would repeatedly get up, attack Garrin, and then find himself on the ground, or on the end of a painful strike to his torso.

“I can't do this anymore,” he wheezed from the floor, through deep breaths of exhaustion and pain. “You're faster than I am, and you seem to know what I'm going to do before even I do. I haven't struck you once and you’ve hit me a hundred times.”

“You're predictable,” Garrin said simply. “You always attack me first; you never wait for me to make the initial move. And when you attack, your eyes give away your intentions every time. You look at the part of my body you’re planning to strike.”

“You’re saying I don’t know how to use a sword?” Oracus assumed unhappily.

“No, you’re actually very good with a sword. It’s your brain that needs practise.” Garrin prodded his temple with a finger. “Come on, let’s try again.”

Reluctantly, Oracus agreed and faced Garrin. Looking at Garrin’s armour, he could see barely a mark on it, but his own was covered in dents and scratches. He focused his mind and decided this time he would wait for Garrin to make the first move. When Garrin did eventually strike, Oracus was fast enough to deflect the blow. Garrin staggered backwards and grimaced, then launched himself at Oracus again and swung his sword several times at Oracus’s body. Oracus blocked each of the attacks with his sword but Garrin was fast and his strikes fierce. They stepped apart for a second, and Oracus took the time to inhale a deep breath. But Garrin was quick to take advantage and charged his shoulder into Oracus’s chest. Oracus fell backwards and gasped as the gravel floor peeled the skin off the palms of his hands.

“That was better,” Garrin praised. “You made me work for that.”

*

In the meadow adjacent to the sparring area, just out of Oracus and Garrin’s view, Bandor was stood with Aquila. It was calm and peaceful except for the occasional sound of clashing swords beyond the long grass, and there was barely a breeze to ripple the tops of the pines in the nearby woodland. The clouds were yet again scarce above Afarra, and the morning air was beginning to warm. Sunlight beamed across the meadow, and the flowers offered fragrant aromas that nestled unpleasantly in Bandor’s sensitive nose.

Bandor was with Aquila, as Oracus was with Garrin, to train. But Bandor wasn’t being trained to kill or fight – he was already programmed to be very effective at that. In fact, he was required to learn the skills needed by a Lavorian during battle. As Aquila had wisely said, ‘A Lavorian should instinctively put its Rider’s life before its own. But a skilled Lavorian would always intervene before a sacrifice became necessary.’ And to do that, a Lavorian must understand its Rider’s mind, and foresee its Rider’s intentions.

“I often know what Oracus is thinking,” Bandor explained. “And I can usually sense his emotions too.”

“That’s part of a Rider and Lavorian’s bond,” Aquila replied. “I can read Garrin's thoughts. And I see what he sees, hear what he hears, and taste what he tastes. Over time, you will learn to do this with Oracus, but it takes a lot of practise to develop.”

“How do I do it?” Bandor enquired.

“Well, the greater the distance between you and Oracus, the harder it will be to connect to his mind,” Aquila explained. “But whenever you are close, and you sense his mind is accessible, you must delve into it. The more you enter his mind now, the stronger your bond will become in the future.”

Bandor attempted to link his mind with Oracus’s, but he could feel nothing this morning. Their usual bond seemed to be missing. “I don’t feel anything today,” he said.

“Let’s get closer to the sparring area,” Aquila suggested. “Maybe the distance is too much.”

Together, they proceeded towards the edge of the meadow, carving a path through the long grass. Nearer the sparring area, the clanging of swords became louder.

“Any better?” Aquila said.

It was, and Bandor nodded. With Oracus now in sight, their minds had joined. And notably, Bandor could feel a frustration within his Rider.

“See if you can go deeper,” Aquila urged.

Bandor did as Aquila suggested and closed his eyes to help his concentration. At first, he didn’t know what he was searching for. But then he became drawn to something that intrigued him. Following his intuition, he reached further into Oracus’s mind, but it was like trying to grasp something slippery. Yet after several failed attempts, he finally clutched the feeling and pulled himself in.

Bandor’s immediate reaction was of surprise. Then the dull aching pain came. He opened his eyes and saw Garrin was stood over him. He was lying on his back on the gravel, feeling exhausted and hurt. They were under the shadow of the palace, and his sword was free of his hand. He had been defeated.

Bandor’s vision faltered and he lost his focus. He was stood once again in the meadow with Aquila, and thankfully, the pain in his body had already eased.

*

Oracus lay on his back feeling exhausted and hurt. Garrin stood over him with his sword in his hand and a grin on his face. Oracus’s sword had escaped his grasp and lay abandoned in the gravel several feet away, and his armour was in a state beyond repair.

When Oracus had fallen for what must have been the thousandth time, he’d felt a strange sensation in his mind. Passing it off as a result of too many blows to the head, he climbed gingerly back to his feet and prepared for Garrin’s next onslaught.

“No, that’ll do for today,” Garrin said, much to Oracus’s relief. “Why don’t we take a seat for a minute? I have something to show you.”

With his curiosity piqued, Oracus found the strength to follow Garrin to a wooden table beside the sparring area. Garrin picked up a stone from the ground, placed it on the table and sat. Oracus dropped heavily into the seat opposite and tried not to focus on his aching muscles.

“The quirks of being a Rider are not just the Lavorian they bond with and the improved fighting skills they acquire,” Garrin said. “They also gain a superpower. For example, I can manipulate earth and water with my mind.” As he spoke, the stone on the table rose into the air and floated at eye level. Then it wobbled and dropped back onto the table with a clunk.

Oracus let out a gasp of shock. “How did you do that?”

Garrin laughed. “Do you want me to show you again?” This time, the stone lifted off the table and launched itself across the sparring area as if Garrin had thrown it with his hand.

“That’s incredible!” Oracus exclaimed, his eyes wide with fascination.

“All Riders have a power, Oracus.”

“You mean I can move stones with my mind too?” Oracus said, pointing at himself.

“You can’t move stones, no,” Garrin answered. “Every Rider’s power is unique. No two are the same.”

“Then how do I find out what mine is?” Oracus asked without hesitation.

“Patience,” Garrin said. “I discovered mine when I was angry one day. I accidentally hit Aquila in the face with a rock.”

“So I need to get angry?”

“No, you need to wait. It will show itself when the time is right.”

Oracus bit his lip and strummed his fingers on his knee. He looked at another stone on the floor and tried to move it with a powerful stare. Nothing happened. “What’s Torvanon’s power?” he asked suddenly.

“He can manipulate metal with his mind. He's been a Rider for decades so can do some amazing things.”

“Do you mean powers get stronger over time?”

“It’s practising that makes them stronger. It’s like building a muscle, I guess.”

Oracus felt a pang of glee. Followed by a stab of doubt. The thought of having a power was exciting, but what if his power turned out to be boring and useless? Surely if it was so great he’d have noticed it by now.

“Is everything okay?” Garrin asked him. “You look puzzled.”

Oracus was midway through nodding when he felt that same odd feeling in his head again, like someone was meddling with his brain. He shook his head and tried to force the sensation away, but it persisted until he heard a voice.

“Hello, Oracus,” it said.

It wasn’t through his ears that Oracus heard Bandor, it was more like a direct connection to his brain. It was the most peculiar feeling he had ever experienced.

“Humans see things much differently to Lavorians,” Bandor observed.

“You can see what I’m seeing?” Oracus replied, speaking somehow through his mind and not his mouth.

“I can, but the colours are very dull!” Bandor said. “It feels like night.”

“How did you get into my mind?”

“Aquila taught me,” Bandor said. “But it’s really hard to concentrate–”

Oracus lost contact with Bandor and squinted to refocus his eyes on what was around him. He was surprised to find Garrin staring at him.

“Bandor?” his friend asked with a smile.

“How do you know that?” Oracus answered.

“Because your eyes glazed over and you weren’t listening to a word I was saying.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“Don’t apologise,” Garrin said. “It was eight weeks before Aquila and I could link our minds. You’ve found yourself a strong Lavorian, Oracus.”

*

Bandor shook himself and his metal fur jingled quietly. He had successfully connected with Oracus’s mind, but it had taken a lot of effort to do so.

“Why did that drain so much of my energy?” he asked, dropping onto his belly in the long grass.

“Why does it cost so much energy to run a long distance?” Aquila said. “Simply because you’re doing something your body isn’t used to. You’re still quite a distance from Oracus too, that’s no easy feat.”

“Tell me it gets easier,” Bandor prompted, panting slightly.

“With practise,” Aquila assured.

Bandor put his head on his paws and closed his eyes. “We see things a lot differently,” he said.

“Our senses are stronger than a Human’s,” Aquila agreed. “And our Riders will rely on them in dangerous situations.”

“Do we always feel their pain when we enter their minds too?”

“If Oracus is feeling pain, then you will feel it too,” Aquila explained. “But a more experienced Lavorian can enter his Rider's mind without feeling pain, or he can project the pain entirely upon himself so his Rider isn’t disadvantaged in a fight.” Aquila ruffled her metal feathers and snapped her beak. “I’ve heard a Lavorian with ultimate control can totally eradicate pain in himself and his Rider – but it’s so difficult to accomplish I’m not even sure the mighty King Jowra can do it.”

Bandor lifted his head and looked through the shoots of grass towards the sparring area. He couldn’t wait until he was strong enough to take Oracus’s pain away from him, even if he had to endure it himself. Maybe by then, he would be able to enter Oracus’s mind without it being so exhausting too.

After a moment, Aquila unfolded her wings and stretched them out. “Garrin and Oracus are done,” she said as she flapped them gently. “You can go and get some rest now.”

Bandor yawned as he got to his feet, and along with Aquila, he waded through the grass towards where Oracus and Garrin were waiting.