Path of the Divine

by Harmon Cooper

And Tom? I had little hope for him, but maybe he had eventually made it to shore. So there was some hope there, even if it was hard to harbor.

  “Ahead,” Lhandon said, stopping suddenly, his hand slipping into the front of his robe.

  “I see it,” I told him as my eyes fell upon a beautiful snow lion, easily the size of a small pony. It was staggering along the path, wheezing, its eyes bloodshot, arrows sticking out of its side.

  “Someone has injured it,” Lhandon said, the portly monk starting to move into the forest. “It’s still dangerous. Let’s go around it.”

  “Or…” I brought my hand up.

  Lhandon’s eyes went wide. “Nick, I implore you, these beasts will show no mercy to you, even if you heal one. They’ve been hunted by the people of Lhasa for too long; they kill on sight. The only reason we haven’t already been attacked is because it’s injured.”

  But something about the way the snow lion was looking at me now made me feel as if it wouldn’t kill me, that I could heal it and we could both be on our way.

  “Circle around if you’d like,” I told him, “this is something I have to do.”

  “Nick…”

  “Please, Lhandon, I think I can make a difference here.”

  The snow lion fell to its side, its stomach pulsing, three arrows jutting from its gut. The blood had smeared across the lion’s white fur, some of it much darker than other portions.

  Once I was a few feet closer to the lion it began to growl, and after that didn’t work it lifted its head and hissed at me, baring its incredible fangs. My hands still up, I traced the Healing Hand rune that Lhandon had taught me, Lha-Mo. Light radiated from my fingertips and cascaded down to my wrist.

  I showed my hand to the snow lion. “I’m going to help you,” I said softly. “I’m not here to hurt you; I’m not interested in your fur.”

  I reached for the creature and it snapped its teeth at me.

  It tried to stand, but ended up falling to the side again, whimpering as I lowered my hand. The snow lion took short breaths as my glowing fingers met the side of its neck, as I moved to the first arrow.

  “Nick, please be careful!”

  I grabbed hold of the first arrow. “This is going to hurt,” I told the snow lion, “but I’ll heal the wound as soon as I pull the arrow out. Hit your tail against the ground twice if you understand me.”

  I looked to its tail to see it lightly tap twice against the ground and settle. I also noticed something else: the lion was a lioness.

  “Good girl.” I wrapped my hand around the base of the arrow and pulled it out, immediately healing the wound. The lioness started to growl again, gnashing her teeth. “Two more,” I told her as I moved to the next arrow.

  I yanked this one out as well, and as soon as I healed the wound the lioness started to move.

  “One more,” I whispered to her, not at all concerned by her size and how easy it would be for her to end my life. I pulled the last arrow out and immediately healed the wound, stepping back as soon as I was finished.

  “Oh my,” Lhandon said as the lioness stood, her eyes narrowed on me.

  “Now I’ll be on my way,” I started to tell her, holding both hands where she could see them.

  She leaped onto me, Lhandon crying out as she did so.

  Our bodies landed in a patch of snow and the lioness began to transform into an incredibly beautiful woman, with short white hair, lion ears, large breasts, and powerful hips.

  “You saved me,” she said, straddling me.

  “You’re… you’re human?”

  The woman grabbed my crotch. “I will have your child,” she whispered, her eyes trained on me. “I owe you my life.”

  Chapter Twenty: Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?

  “Oh my,” Lhandon said as he caught his balance. “We had no idea…”

  The woman turned to the portly monk and glared at him. “Do not disturb us.”

  “That is not my intention, Lioness, but the road isn’t a proper place to…” Lhandon cleared his throat, “perform worldly deeds.”

  “As flattering as this is,” I started to tell the woman, slowly lowering my hands to her hips.

  “I owe you my life, I want to give you my life,” she purred, her ears twitching. She tightened her grip around me with her thighs. “What is your name?”

  “Nick,” I said. “Do you mind letting me stand?”

  “We can do it any way you’d like,” she said, “but he needs to go. No watchers.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the woman.

  “Just let me up for a moment,” I said. “And you never told me your name.”

  “Saruul,” she said as she lightly slipped off my waist. The lion woman stood in a slightly hunched way, as if she were ready to pounce, her tail hooked in the air behind her.

  “As I said, I’m Nick, and that’s Lhandon,” I told her.

  “You saved me. He did not.”

  “Yes, a very black and white way to look at it, but he’s also the one that taught me how to heal with my hands.”

  She looked to the monk. “He did?”

  Lhandon nodded. “It’s true, Lioness, the technique was passed to me and I passed it to Nick, not for karmic reasons but because Nick is a friend.”

  She nodded, her tail curling in the air. “Thanks for clarifying.”

  “Who shot you?” I asked.

  Her ears flitted back. “There was a small group of them, treasure hunters, led by a man with glowing fists.”

  “Fist of Force came through here?” Lhandon asked. “How did he know there was a shortcut?”

  “Fist of Force?” Saruul considered the name for a moment. “That would describe what he could do, but he wasn’t the one who did this,” she said, touching her side. While she had taken a human form, there was still a light tuft of white and black-striped fur over her skin, her breasts and sex exposed. “It was the ones who joined him. Treasure hunters and their crossbows. They had a prisoner with them, a woman who wore the clothing of the elite guard.”

  Could it be Sona? I tilted my head at Saruul.

  “You have a question, Nick?” she asked, taking a step closer to me.

  “Describe the woman.”

  “Tall and angry, dark hair, a bandana around her neck obscuring part of her face, clothing that was inappropriate for the mountains. There was something else about her as well. Her hands kept flaring up with a pink and purple energy, but she wasn’t able to actually use her power.”

  “That sounds like Sona,” I told Lhandon, “the head of Madame Mabel’s elite guard. Am I crazy for thinking that? You mentioned they had a female prisoner with them back at the monastery…”

  Lhandon brought his hand to his mouth. “It would make sense for the Exonerated One to hide one of the items necessary to unlock the gate protecting the Flaming Thunderbolt in plain sight.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked him. “You said the items were some sand, a pendant, and a mummified hand or something, right? Why would Sona have any of those things?”

  Lhandon nodded excitedly. “Let me ask you, Lioness, was the woman armed?”

  “Yes, she had arms,” Saruul said, glancing from Lhandon to me. “Does he always ask stupid questions such as this?”

  “He wants to know if she had a weapon,” I explained.

  “No, of course not, she was a prisoner. But this Fist of Force person, he had a jagged sword that glowed with energy. I saw that part.”

  “The Mummified Hand of Dolma,” Lhandon gasped.

  “It wasn’t a hand,” I started to tell him.

  “Of course it isn’t. The Mummified Hand of Dolma is the name of a weapon with a hilt made from the skin of a powerful witch. The Exonerated One told me that it glowed with pink and purple energy, and that this energy bound itself to the user, allowing the user to also cast spells and create armor by drawing on the power in the blade.”

  “That resembles what I saw,” Saruul said, her ears twitching.

  “It
is exactly what you saw, Lioness, and it is why the head of Madame Mabel’s elite guard is so powerful in the first place.” An intense look came across his face. “Remember when I told you there were numerous ways to interpret the Way of the Immortals?” Lhandon asked me.

  “Actually, Roger the Bird told me that.”

  “You have a bird friend as well?” Saruul asked. “Male or female?”

  “Male. ‘Roger’ is a man’s name.”

  “I see,” Saruul said, turning away from me, and playfully flitting her tail against my arm.

  “I told you about the various paths too,” Lhandon said, “and of the Path of Possession, which is a way to gain power by killing someone of a higher power. The Exonerated One…” He shook his head. “He meant well, but he did some terrible things in his youth and directly out of prison, one of those things was killing the man who held Dolma’s Mummified Hand.”

  “The weapon.”

  “Yes, Nick, the weapon. And I’m guessing…” He sighed with disappointment. “It makes sense that the Exonerated One would sell the weapon off to get funding to build the monastery. Yes, that would make total sense. And it would almost be an even karmic exchange, depending on who you asked.”

  “Do you think he sold it off to Mabel?”

  “Mabel’s father, perhaps.”

  “And then they gave it to Sona for her to become the leader of her elite guard.”

  “Precisely.”

  “This conversation bores me,” Saruul said with a yawn.

  “Maybe you could be of some use to us, Lioness.” Lhandon turned to her and offered the woman a heartfelt smile.

  “Perhaps you should choose your words more carefully,” she told him, not returning the smile. “Your kind has been hunting mine for a millennium, forcing us to move higher and higher into the mountains.”

  “I personally haven’t hunted a snow lion.”

  “But you are Lhasan, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “And how valuable is my fur?”

  “As valuable as your teeth,” Lhandon said, “and your flesh itself. I do understand where you’re coming from, Lioness, and I’ll do my best to pre-observe my questions before I aim them at you.”

  She chuckled. “Pre-observe your questions? A peculiar way to say that, but I understand what you’re suggesting. Now, what is it you want, and you, Nick.”

  “Yes?”

  “We have unfinished business.”

  “I’m okay with that,” I told her, feeling a sudden attraction to the woman.

  There was something primal about Saruul, sure, but she also exhibited the lithe movements of a feline, which shouldn’t have interested me yet had piqued my curiosity.

  “We’re looking for a hermit in these parts named Baatar, who we hope will offer us guidance and weapons.”

  “Weapons?”

  Lhandon nodded. “We plan, or should I say, Nick plans to stop Fist of Force from opening the gate protecting the Flaming Thunderbolt. I will assist him in whatever way I can.”

  “A hero and his support staff.”

  “Sure, if it helps you to see it that way.”

  She considered this for a moment, her tail curling in the air. “Yes, I will help you reach Baatar’s hermitage. There is a faster route than this one.”

  “I can’t climb.”

  “Clearly,” she told Lhandon with a chuckle. “It won’t involve any climbing.”

  “And will you be joining us on our way to the gate?” Lhandon asked.

  “Don’t press your luck,” she said, turning away from us. Saruul motioned us forward with her tail. “Try to keep up.”

  The snow lioness moved at a slower pace than I would have anticipated, occasionally answering Lhandon’s questions and sometimes outright ignoring them. Yes, all snow lions and lionesses could turn into humans. Yes, they lived in hidden villages at the end of dangerous mountain passes. Yes, there was a rivalry between some of the tribes, and yes, their number one enemy was humans.

  “Bears don’t turn into people, do they?” I asked her.

  She paused at this question. “Why? Is there a bear I should know about?”

  “One licked me and then attacked me.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “I must say,” Lhandon told her once we came to a pile of rocks that was decorated with blue prayer flags, a burial site, “I am utterly fascinated by your people and would love the opportunity to visit one of these villages and learn about your beliefs, your lore, and perhaps your runes.”

  “Offering yourself an open invitation, huh?” Saruul crouched, motioning for us to crouch as well as her ears straightened.

  “What is it?” I asked her.

  “Don’t worry, Nick, I’ll protect you,” she said as she lightly grazed my face with her tail. A wind howled over us, followed by a quick burst of freezing water on our heads and faces.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked once it had passed.

  “Spirits communing,” she said, flicking the water away. Most of it had already frozen.

  “How vile!” Lhandon cried.

  “And the water is…?”

  “There are nasty, orgy-loving spirits in these mountains,” Saruul told me as we started to climb up a rocky path, Lhandon already having a tough time of it. “Just be glad they didn’t see us.”

  It was another two hours before we came to the entrance of a cave, and by then the sun was setting, the temperature dropping by the minute.

  “We’ll use this cave from here on out,” Saruul said as we entered the cramped space. “It’s a shortcut Baatar likes to use.”

  “So you have met him?” Lhandon asked.

  “No, but I can sense his presence. Others in my tribe have met him, but I usually stay away from this part of the mountain.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked her as we ducked into a space with stalactites hanging from the roof of the cave. A white light quickly illuminated the space courtesy of Lhandon.

  “That’s very bright,” Saruul said, shielding her eyes.

  “We can’t see in the dark like you,” he reminded her.

  “I could see just fine,” I told him.

  “I just keep learning so much about you,” Saruul said as we moved into a larger cavern with beautiful paintings on one of the walls.

  “Wait,” Lhandon said, turning his glowing orb toward the paintings. “Isn’t it magnificent?”

  Depicted on the wall was a picture of a seated monk with clouds swirling around his head.

  “I’ve seen better,” Saruul says. “If you lose weight, you’d be able to climb to some of the higher peaks where the best hermits have taken refuge. There are lion hermits as well, and they all have a keen eye for art. It is a true pleasure to witness their creations.”

  The cave eventually opened onto a narrow walkway. We came to a pole sticking out of the ground, prayer flags hanging from it.

  “Baatar’s home,” Saruul said.

  “He’s… he’s not here,” Lhandon told her as we all looked at the darkened cave.

  “No, but I have no control over that.”

  “Let’s stay here for the night,” I told Lhandon. “We can find weapons in the morning and you can leave him a note, thanking him for letting us borrow whatever we find.”

  “Agreed, and I’d much rather stay in his cave, knowing that he has swept it of evil spirits, than I would the larger cave with the painting,” Lhandon said with a shiver. “It is getting very cold. We should get inside.”

  Once we were in, Lhandon found the space where Baatar usually had his fires. There was dry wood waiting for us, and as he started the fire and prepared a meal, Saruul moved to the rock I was sitting on.

  “I am serious about our union,” she said to me, an intense look to her eyes. “You saved me, and for that, I want to have your child.”

  “I really don’t know what to make of that,” I told her.

  “You don’t have to make anything of it. I just want you to know my in
tentions. As soon as the monk falls asleep, I will come to you. Will you wait for me?”

  I stared at her curiously for a moment, not able to stop the smile from spreading across my face. “I will.”

  “Good.”

  The thought dawned on me that this could be a trick; it could be just like the bandit’s daughters. It also struck me as odd that sex was used as a form of payment in Lhasa, which wasn’t a custom I was really used to.

  Not that I minded.

  There was a strong attraction between the two of us, an almost tangible energy. I’d felt it with women in the past, and every time I’d acknowledged this feeling, it usually was to my benefit.

  At least during the heat of things.

  There was always the morning after for the situation to sour, but for some reason, I didn’t feel like that was the case here.

  “You’re quiet,” she said, scooting closer to me.

  “You’re not going to try to kill me after this happens, are you?” I asked her point-blank.

  She started laughing hard enough for Lhandon to notice. The jolly monk grinned at us before returning to the food he was cooking. After Saruul stopped, he went back to cooking up a stew with some of the dried meat he’d brought along.

  “That’s a different tribe,” she finally said.

  “Good to know.”

  “I’ll play nice.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  “And then I’ll leave.”

  “You won’t stick around with us?” I asked, feeling a wave of disappointment come over me.

  “Likely not. The quest is yours, not mine.”

  “We may die,” I told her.

  “In that case, I’d better make tonight count.”

  “I’m going to try to convince you to stick around,” I told her. “You know that, right?”

  “I’m not easily persuaded, and once my mind is set, my mind is set.” Saruul traced her finger against the top of my hand for a moment. “Just be ready when I come for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One: Making a Night of It

  “You waited up for me,” Saruul said as she crouched before me.

  I could hear Lhandon snoring to my right, the monk occasionally whispering words to himself in his sleep.