Misfits of Aquila (Aquila's Originals 1)

Chapter 5: Nimbys, Part 3

THE CART WAS rickety and uncomfortable as it wobbled and jostled through the streets of Nimbys. Which was probably a blessing for it swiftly rubbed the gloss off Orla's awe. Nimbys was large and impressive, yes, but once she rolled through its cramped and winding streets she soon realised it wasn't so very different from Ihra. Houses, no matter what their scale, were still houses. People remained people. Life stayed life. The only thing Orla had never seen before were great mansions, like the ones that loomed over the east side of the city. Not only were they bigger than any other house she had ever seen, they had space around, in front and likely behind too, a vast luxury in a valley as overflowing with life as this one.

She would have asked the captain about them, but the poor man looked twice as uncomfortable as Orla felt. His usually smiling mouth was drawn into a tight line, which grew even tighter every time they jolted down a pothole. His eyes were closed and his jaw clenched as he hissed painfully between his teeth.

Orla looked around but there was nothing in the cart to help him, only crates stamped with the Rider crest. There was no choice for either of them except to hold on and hope the journey would end soon.

It didn't, although the road did improve slightly as they left the cramp streets and turned onto the steep slope of the cliff at the rear of the city. Climbing high above the rooftops, Orla clung on, afraid that if she let go she would tumble off the back of the cart and roll all the way to the bottom.

As the jostling lessened, the captain opened his eyes and saw her predicament. Smiling, he crooked his arm, inviting Orla to grip onto that instead of the splintered cart bench. "I won't let you fall," he promised.

Even though she didn't want to hurt the poor man any more than he was clearly already hurting, Orla nevertheless seized his forearm. "Thank you," she whispered, gazing back at the retreating city and swallowing hard. She'd never been scared of heights before, but the ground suddenly seemed so very far away.

They crawled up the slope, the pair of oxen groaning as they dragged the cart and all its contents up the steep path. Orla probably could have walked the distance in half the time, but since the captain likely couldn't, she stayed put and stared at her feet, trying not to worry about how high up she was.

She was an Ihran, she'd grown up on mountains, she couldn't be scared of heights. A Rift Rider certainly couldn't.

Still, when the path finally crested the top of the hill and the way evened out, Orla released a shaky sigh of relief.

Captain Derrain chuckled and eased his arm free of her vice-like grip. "There. We made it."

Tucking her hands in her lap, ashamed of how she'd clung to him, Orla nodded. They had indeed made it and, with level ground under her once more, Orla was able to look at the view and marvel.

Nimbys was even more impressive from above. The tangled streets tumbled down the valley, where the cathedral seemed to hold them back, protecting them from falling over the edge and into the sea. The same Cloud Sea that glowed pure white beneath a bright winter blue sky. With the rocky edges of the valley framing the view, it looked magnificent. Fluffy, pure, perfect, and utterly unlike the sticky, cold emptiness that Orla had grown used to over the long journey south.

A shadow swept over her, making her shiver and look up. Miryhls. A double handful of them, gliding down to land on the field that stretched over half of the broad cliff top.

Orla blinked. The other half was taken up by the Stratys Palace. Home to the most powerful monarch on the Overworld. The imposing tower of white and gold was rather intimidating, but Orla didn't waste time looking at it for long. Instead her eyes were drawn to the rather less imposing building tucked close to the valley wall, a sturdy barn squatting by its side.