Oracus sat with his mother and father in their home in Thessley, talking in front of the fire. The warmth of the flames was blissful, but not so much as the love he felt when the three of them were together. Oracus’s heart fluttered joyously; a family who made him feel happy and safe was what he'd desired above all else, and he would cherish the feeling like no other.

But there was something missing in their cosy, thatched house – it was a presence in his mind he had become very accustomed to recently. Bandor.

There was a moment of regret as Oracus realised he would have to let Bandor go. It was a shame, but he had his family with him now, and all was peaceful. He closed his eyes and soaked up the joy.

Then there was a sharp knock at the door.

“That’ll be Broid,” his father advised, lifting himself from his chair.

The knock sounded again, loud and impatient this time.

“Okay, okay. I'm coming!” Padaquin shouted.

A loud crash thundered through the house as the door was kicked off its hinges. Gravaz stood imperious in the doorway with Lapsin by his side.

“Who are you?” Oracus’s father demanded.

Gravaz stooped through the doorway and struck Padaquin's face with his fist. “I am Gravaz, trusted servant of King Jowra.”

Catania screamed and Oracus jumped from his seat. He tried to link his mind with Bandor’s and summon his power but realised he was no longer a Rider.

Gravaz laughed sadistically. “Men usually kneel when I enter a room,” he said arrogantly.

“I will never kneel to you!” Oracus refused. He faced the Ulatori bravely, but Gravaz’s fist met his stomach and his legs buckled.

“That's better,” Gravaz said as Oracus dropped to his knees. “Now you will accompany me to Melzor. You can watch your mother and father being fed to Wravias and Pseubas in the keep–”

Icy water splashed over Oracus’s face and wrenched him from his dream of Gravaz and his parents. A distressing mixture of relief and pain coursed through his body.

His hands were bound above his head and he hung several feet in the air from a frame in a small village square. Snow and frost covered the rooftops of surrounding wooden buildings, and the icy air gnawed at his bare skin. He had been stripped of his clothes and his weapons had been taken from him too. He was alone and vulnerable on the square, but a hundred yellow eyes were staring at him from all around. Powerful men and women wearing long, fur robes were everywhere. They were Ulatoris, just like Gravaz, all several feet taller than Oracus with the same grey skin. Even in his drowsy state, the sight of the Ulatoris made Oracus try to free himself. He yanked at the vines binding his wrists, but to no avail.

“State your business here, Rider!” An Ulatori with an ugly crown on his head stomped across the square. He was colossal, even compared to the other Ulatoris, and he towered over Oracus. He was bare-chested, despite the temperature, and his muscular torso was half covered in tattoos. “STATE YOUR BUSINESS HERE!” he bellowed again, spraying spittle from his huge mouth.

“I don't know where I am,” Oracus said fearfully.

The Ulatori growled loudly and the crowd to his rear growled with him. Some of them jeered and waved their hands unhappily.

“You are in Valaroth, Human. Home of the Ulatoris. Now tell me why you are here before I kill you.”

“I’m here by mistake,” Oracus said. “I didn't mean to intrude.” He searched for Bandor’s mind but felt nothing. His fear increased tenfold.

“You meant not to intrude?” the Ulatori returned. “Do not insult my intelligence, Rider!” He struck Oracus’s face with his giant fist and Oracus whimpered in pain. “Do you know who I am?”

Oracus shook his head. “I don’t.”

“I am Sarvon, leader of Valaroth and protector of the Black Forest. If anyone trespasses on my domain, they will be killed. There are no exceptions.”

“Please,” Oracus begged. “I really didn’t mean to be in your forest. I had no other choice.”

Sarvon waved his hand dismissively. “Bring the Lavorian,” he ordered.

The screech of something huge was heard overhead, and a creature descended from the sky. It landed softly in the square and folded its wings into its body, then it screeched again. The beast was a Lavorian – Oracus knew so because of the armour covering its body – but the animal it resembled he had never seen before. It stood on six legs and had sharp spines from the crown of its head to the tip of its long tail. It stood taller than any of the Ulatoris and its green eyes were narrow and fierce above a snout dripping with drool. Now the Lavorian’s wings were folded, it appeared not to have any at all.

When the Lavorian approached Oracus and Sarvon, Oracus noticed something limp in its mouth.

“Bandor!” he cried out. There was no reply from his Lavorian and Oracus feared the worst. “What have you done to him?”

Sarvon struck Oracus’s face again. “He's not dead yet, but he will be. As will you.”

The Lavorian dropped Bandor onto the ground in front of Oracus. The Lion didn’t move.

“Are you going to tell me now why you are here?” Sarvon said.

“I'm not here intentionally, I promise! There was a battle–”

“There are always battles between Humans.” Sarvon clasped Oracus’s midriff in a huge hand. “A race so weak it fights and destroys anything it can in an attempt to prove its power.”

Oracus nodded. “You're right!” he claimed. “But I don’t want to fight. I want everything to be peaceful.”

“Who won this battle you speak of?” Sarvon asked.

“Jowra, I think,” Oracus answered. “Tallarin has been defeated by him.”

The crowd that gathered around the square hissed at the mention of Jowra’s name and Sarvon began to crush Oracus in his hand. His lip snarled angrily and Oracus yelled out.

“Because you have conquered another city, you think you can conquer us?” Sarvon questioned fiercely.

“No!”

“Because you are strong enough to defeat others in your feeble race, you think you can overthrow us Ulatoris?”

“No!”

“It is a shame to kill a Rider and Lavorian, but your presence here leaves me no choice.” Sarvon pulled a large axe from behind his back and the crowd of Ulatoris cheered and whistled. “Goodbye, Rider of Melzor.” He lifted the axe above his head.

“Wait!” Oracus shouted. “I'm not a Rider of Melzor. I want Jowra dead!”

Oracus was sure his pleads would go unheard, but Sarvon didn’t bring the axe down. Then the Ulatori’s expression eased and he lowered his weapon.

“I will give you one minute to explain yourself,” he said.

Hope flowed through Oracus. “There’s a rebellion trying to kill Jowra. He forced me to leave my home, and he killed my mother and father!”

The Ulatoris nearby were hissing again. They wanted Oracus to be killed.

“I promise I'm not lying!” he yelled.

“How did you get into my forest?” Sarvon enquired.

“Jowra invaded Tallarin, where I was living, and I was forced to flee. Another Rider threw me into the ocean – he was an Ulatori called Gravaz!”

The name drew jeers from the Ulatoris. Some of the women screamed.

“Gravaz?” Sarvon bellowed. “He is a traitor!”

“When he threw me into the ocean, the tide brought me to your forest. Because of my injuries, I could do nothing but let my Lavorian carry me through the trees.”

Sarvon turned away from Oracus and patted his own Lavorian on the side. Oracus had the feeling they were communicating in their minds.

“Your injuries are indeed quite severe,” Sarvon said. “But we have the medicine here to help you recover.”

“You want to keep me alive?” Oracus said with surprise.

“Only if you promise me something in return…”

“What could you possibly want from me?” Oracus asked.

“I want Gravaz!” Sarvon growled.

“You want me to kill him?”

“No.” Sarvon shook his huge head. “I want you to bring him here.”

“And you would trust me to leave and then come back?”

“I am no fool, Rider. I will keep you here until I am sure you are capable and willing to fulfil our agreement.”

“And what if you decide I’m not?”

“Then I will just kill you as I was going to when you first arrived.”

Oracus looked down at Bandor and realised he had no choice but to agree. “If it spares mine and my Lavorian’s lives then I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Sarvon bowed his head in acknowledgment. He turned to the crowd of Ulatoris. “Cut him loose and take him to Shurgda.”

The vines were cut and Oracus landed heavily in the snow. He groaned, and two muscular Ulatoris dragged him to his feet with rough hands.

Oracus gasped as the pain in his body peaked again. Then he went limp and let them carry him across the square. “I guess this isn’t the end of the journey,” he said to himself under his breath.

Thank you so much for reading Fire Rider. I am so grateful for you getting this far!

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CHECK OUT THE OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:

ICE RIDER

STORM RIDER

OTHER BOOKS BY PAUL GASKILL:

THE ELEVEN