Path to Destiny

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"This is all well and good," Ezra said, "but I never agreed to ride a lion."

He stood with his arms crossed next to a beast of the Tia'in. After the man, Tavi, convinced Dagra that we weren't spies and that we were actually Harbingers, the saviors of the world -- those were his words, not mine -- all of the Tia'in knelt before us and apologized profusely. They agreed to take us to the capital to meet the emperor and empress on one condition: We had to travel by their Baluan lions.

Dagra mounted her feline companion. When she first heard who we were, a shock so palpable shook her serious frame that I didn't know if she was happy or angry that we were the Harbingers. Now, she was humble and courteous -- at least to the Harbingers.

"It's the only way to descend the valley," she told Ezra irritably. She had removed her hood to reveal tightly braided hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head. Her angular face was severe like the point of a blade, and she had a voice to match it.

Clarice and Baruch had already mounted Tavi's lion, with Synnove and Mayra claiming a spot with the other two riders. Dagra extended a hand to me as Hadrian climbed up behind Synnove. I took her gloved hand thankfully and sat behind her on a rather uncomfortable leather blanket that strapped around the lion's broad body.

"Would you please get your companion on this lion?" Dagra hissed over her shoulder, speaking in her natural Baluan. "We do not have time for this."

"Ezra," I called, "stop being a drama queen and get on." I held out my hand to him.

I expected him to shove my hand away, but he instead took it and crawled not-so-gracefully up the lion. "You are responsible if it eats me," he said in my ear.

Dagra snorted and called for the Tia'in to move forward. I turned to Ezra. His face was pale. "What?" I asked. "You don't like cats?"

"I like to be in control of my transportation," he said in a low voice. He looked nauseated. I never thought about how it would make him feel as a shapeshifter. Yet he rode horses just fine, so I assumed he actually didn't like cats.

Dagra's lion galloped down the valley. Its long, thick claws dug into the sand and let the lion slide down the sandbank effortlessly. The air whipped past us, and I pulled my scarf over my face and hunkered down against Dagra's strong back.

We arrived at Kharieva within minutes.

A dirt road led to a sandstone and iron gate that rose into the air, flanked on either side by statues of roaring, winged lions. Two soldiers posted at the gate let us in after Dagra explained the circumstances -- and, I'm assuming, who we were. They nearly fell on their faces trying to open the gate.

The trip through the city was a sight to behold. I sank as low as I could between Dagra's back and Ezra without losing sight of our surroundings.

Balua's main export was textiles, and it showed clearly. From the lush green embroidered robes the women wore to the tailored blue jackets on the men. Many of the citizens treaded shoeless on the well-worn dirt roads carrying bushels of wheat, rolls of beautiful fabric, or bowls of water on their heads.

They parted for the Tia'in respectfully, letting us by without incident. Sandstone dwellings rose on either side, squished together with the only separation of the houses being doors set into uneven stone steps.

I avoided the looks of the people and sank into my scarf. I felt Ezra's voice whisper mockingly: "What?" he said. "You don't like people?"

I turned to glare at him, but instead I only managed to shove my scarf in his face. It was a size too big -- at my request -- and had surprising capabilities. Face-smasher, for instance.