Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I have to work harder than I imagined or Timoran will die.”

  *****

  The other patrons give Nyx a wide berth as the slender channeler slugs down another shot of potato wine. She growls when a wrinkled hand comes into view and tries to take her almost empty mug of ale. Even with the herbal powder, the half-elf can feel her head swimming and a constant throbbing on the surface of her chest. Nyx scratches at the tattoo, her nails nearly tearing a hole in the thinning fabric of her shirt. Frustrated by the irritation, the channeler recklessly casts an ice spell on herself and crashes to the floor. She shivers from the intense cold that does nothing to ease her suffering. A cocoon of fire envelopes her and scares several of the drunker patrons out of the building. Recovering her senses and warmth, Nyx returns to the barstool and slaps a diamond sphere on the counter.

  “I apologize for my outburst,” she drones while pointing at a bottle of Ifrit mead. She frowns when she is only given a glass of the alcohol and the rest is put back on the shelf. “Guess I should be happy with what I get. People don’t seem to like me around here. They’re either scared I’m going to blow up the city or do something to break Timoran out of jail. Well I’m not able to be there to help my friend, so I hope everyone is happy.”

  “I’m not the type of bartender who talks to customers about their problems,” the man behind the counter says before going to the kitchen.

  Nyx curses under her breath and nurses her drink, the harsh liquid making her feel warm and sleepy. She grabs a handful of almonds from a bowl and stuffs as many as she can into her mouth. Turning on her barstool, she calmly looks around the room and takes note of anyone who is paying attention to her. Nyx juggles a coin-sized fireball along her knuckles while she takes another sip of the burning mead. The glowing orb sticks to her finger when she points at a white-haired barbarian who will not stop staring at her. She smirks at his refusal to turn away even when the dangerous spell flares into the form of a fanged serpent. With a roll of her wrist, Nyx snuffs out the flames and hops off the barstool.

  “You seem to be more interested in me than the others,” the channeler says as she joins the grinning patron. She is mildly surprised by the stench of alcohol that wafts off the barbarian, but is pretty sure she does not smell any better. “Are you entertained by my banishment from the courtroom or is the sight of a real Near God awe-inspiring?”

  “Actually, I was amazed by your ability to drink,” the man replies with a laugh. He pushes a frothy mug of ale to the half-elf and signals the returning bartender for some fresh drinks. “The name is Lodur and I’m the one responsible for your boyfriend’s condition this morning. You have my apologies, but I rarely get to drink with foreigners. Especially those of a legendary race that we all thought dead until recently. Until you appeared, we really only used the term for powerful casters that came through and even then it was as a joke.”

  “Thank you for the drink, but Luke isn’t my boyfriend,” Nyx states before putting some of the powdered root into the ale. She listens to the liquid hiss and decides that she will make this her last drink of the night. “He’s my little brother even though we’re not related by blood. Just a lot of adventures and shared suffering, which has created a bond that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. The potential boyfriend had to go in another direction because we made too many mistakes and the gods are punishing us.”

  “I’d heard about Timoran being one of these champions,” Lodur says, accepting both drinks that the waiter brings him. The worried expression on Nyx’s reddening face stops him from taking a sip. “There is no reason to fear me. I travel south from time to time and run into merchant caravans. Many people have told me about you and your friends, which is news I’ve shared with the tribe. Sadly, not many listen because of Timoran’s involvement. A few believe that the champions are frauds and want nothing more than to become famous. Again, it’s because of your association with an assumed traitor.”

  “What’s your opinion on that?”

  Lodur attends to his drink before leaning back far enough to stick his head out the open window. The night sky is cloudy, so the only source of light are the elevated torches that are so far apart that most of the city remains in total darkness. A chorus of howls can be heard in the distance, but they are silenced by a snow tiger’s roar. With a cleansing exhale, the barbarian rocks forward and finishes both of his cool drinks in less than a minute. He notices that the summer heat is making all of the patrons drowsy and one of the waiters is on a ladder trying to open a heavy skylight, which creaks on rusty hinges.

  “My opinion is that he didn’t do it, but he knows more than people realize,” Lodur explains with a wide yawn. He is about to raise his hand for another round of drinks only to find that his arm is stuck to the table by a layer of enchanted glue. “Guess you want my full attention. I’m only working off intuition here. Timoran Wrath was there when General Godric was killed, so the truth has to be in his head somewhere. One might not believe it, but it’s possible that the horror of witnessing the murder forced his mind to repress the memory. Even great warriors are susceptible to shock during events that strike very close to their heart. Remember that the two were very close even before Timoran married Tigris and they became family.”

  “Then I only have to find a way to jog his brain,” Nyx claims while finishing her ale. She rubs her amethyst necklace as another problem comes to mind. “It would still be his word versus the witnesses. I heard a few people mention that King Edric is the primary too. Nobody is going to believe Timoran unless there’s another person to defend him. One that cannot be doubted even against the Snow Tiger King.”

  “That is a nasty wrinkle,” the bearded man admits with a wicked grin. Lodur awkwardly leans across the table and pretends to be too drunk to sit straight. “Can you please make our conversation more private? This information is rather sensitive. It’ll cost you the price of a few drinks too. Maybe just a bottle of that delicious looking Fae Rum.”

  The channeler’s lips twinkle as she releases a cloak of silence, the only sign of the spell being a few sparks that resemble dust motes. “I don’t have much money left, but I’ll see what I can do. Hate to use a few gems that I’ve been carrying for emergencies. Though I’d be willing to make the sacrifice if the information is worthwhile.”

  “You need to find the missing witness,” Lodur says, extending his hand for his payment. He can see the fire of curiosity burning in the woman’s eyes, but she does not make a move for her money pouch. “It was a rumor that began soon after the incident. Some people were claiming to have seen the murder, but their stories never matched. The only thing that did carry over from one account to the next is that there were four people at the scene. General Godric, King Edric, and Timoran Wrath makes three. Nobody knows anything about this mysterious figure and nobody has come forward. Find this missing witness and you have a better chance of saving your friend. I can’t guarantee it though since I’ve no idea what this supposed person would say. They could side with Edric and reveal Timoran to be a murderer.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I’m a friendly drunk and have no reason to lie.”

  “That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

  The man’s voice lowers in pitch and takes on a stern, authoritative tone. “I swear on my dead wife and the heart of Kerr that this rumor holds some truth. Whether the witness still exists or not is beyond my knowledge, but it is worth investigating. Simply discovering that a fourth person saw things and is now dead might be helpful too. It would reveal that somebody has been trying to cover things up long after Timoran fled. Anyway, you have the forest tracker, so unleash him and see what he can find.”

  Nyx slaps a small emerald on the table and nearly knocks over her chair when she scrambles out of the tavern. Sticking his head out the window, Lodur watches the shining channeler awkwardly race down the street. She stops under a torch and doubles
over, the faint sound of gasping and retching traveling back to the tavern. Grinning at his prize, he licks his lips and goes to the bar to get his hands on a drink he has wanted to try for the last year.

  7

  “I’m certain this whole trial is a farce,” Dariana says as she changes for bed. Once she is done getting into her gown, the telepath turns Luke’s eyes and ears back on with a wiggle of her fingers. “My apologies if that was uncomfortable, but I did not feel like being seen or setting up the divider. I am also sorry that my urging to keep us in the same place has resulted in this awkward situation. I did ask if the other room was free, but a visiting merchant has taken it for the next two days.”

  Luke rolls his jaw and shakes his head as he tries to dislodge a painful air bubble from his right ear. “Considering your position, I think it’s still a smart idea for us to stick together at night. Though you could have asked me to step into the hallway or given me more of a warning than an apology. Anyway, I agree with you. The evidence vaguely points toward Timoran, but people are acting like they are undeniable facts. It’s possible that the theories have been going unchallenged for so long that they’ve become too strong for the truth.”

  The warrior gets the folded divider out of the corner of the room and hides behind it while changing into a pair of sleeping pants. He wipes sweat from his scarred chest and groans at the thought of trying to sleep through another hot night. Stepping out from behind the barrier, Luke goes to open the window and is met by a burst of warmth from a nearby torch. The glare of the flame makes it difficult for the half-elf to see very far and he finds himself too exhausted to bother with his sound sight. A paltry breeze gives him some relief, but he finds himself panting like a suffering dog. It takes a minute to realize that the bizarre action does nothing to ease his discomfort, so he urges Stiletto back into his subconscious.

  “I know you want out, but you hate this type of weather,” Luke whispers to the dog’s restless spirit. Taking a seat in the window, he lazily dangles his leg out of the building and tries in vain to manipulate the wind currents like the griffin does when flying. “A lot of people are interested in this trial. Though most are remaining neutral in regards to Timoran’s guilt. You wouldn’t believe that from those inside the courtroom. Something tells me that the sheriff only let her supporters into the building. The crowd outside was a lot bigger.”

  “Most were merely curious and they will be trying to get inside to see the real show tomorrow,” Dariana replies as she moves a chair closer to her friend. She sits cross-legged and takes a stuttering breath to relax her strained nerves. “Most of the interest is directed at me. Foreigners aren’t uncommon, but they all sense that I’m not an ordinary outsider. Barbarians have amazing instincts. I overheard one person claim that I had a scent similar to the Near God, but much more foreboding. This doesn’t make my job any easier.”

  “I’m confused about why the trial is rigged,” the forest tracker admits, his finger running along the scar running across his belly. He morbidly wonders if he will get a third wound to create a jagged triangle on his torso. “You said King Edric has nothing to do with the crime, so it isn’t like he’s hiding anything. Sheriff Kalten is obviously angry about the loss of her father and sister, but she still has to go by the laws. Also, a blatant attempt to destroy an innocent man would ruin her reputation. Bad attitude aside, Udelia seems proud of her position and the citizens respect her. Why would either of them create a fake trial?”

  “It’s for closure,” Dariana replies matter-of-factly. The clouds part for a few seconds, allowing a shaft of crimson light to strike the shadowy city. Something about the red-hued landscape sends a chill down the woman’s spine, the violent shiver forcing her to hold the chair until it stops. “Timoran’s return has opened a wound that healed incorrectly. All of the anger and confusion are out in the open again and many are unsure of how to proceed. Those with the power to bring closure are trying to do so quickly and with as much fanfare as possible. Whether Timoran is guilty or innocent isn’t important to them because he is really nothing more than a scapegoat.”

  “Wouldn’t you want a scapegoat to be found guilty?”

  “Ideally, but being found innocent would mean that the General was killed by an enemy combatant. That may be more acceptable since that person is probably already dead.”

  Luke slides out of the window to sit on the floor, but lies down and finds he lacks the energy to get back up. “This is why I get a headache from politics and social maneuvering. I wish Kira was here to figure this out.”

  “I wish Delvin was here to take my place since he’s a better negotiator. He might not always believe it, but he’s got a way with words,” the telepath states with a wry smile. She stretches her legs and hops the chair forward to place her heels on the windowsill. “Sari would be able to charm her way to victory too. As I said before, the three of us are not the best choices for this kind of challenge. Even so, I’m going to work with what I have. The evidence I’ve been shown is flimsy and I only need some time to figure out how to puncture the curtain. I just know that one piece of the puzzle is missing and it’s driving me crazy. Not that I’m really going crazy because that would be dangerous. I’m not even frustrated at this point. It’s more that I’m . . . irked.”

  The conversation stops when the pair hears the slam of a door and hurried footsteps. They can tell that the person is smaller and lighter on their feet than a barbarian, which makes them believe Nyx is about to barge into the room. A yelp of surprise from another patron echoes down the hallway and is followed by plates clattering to the floor. The charging footsteps skid to a stop and only the shuffling of a broom can be heard. After a minute of awkward silence, the channeler is back on the move and the door across the hall is shoved open. The shriek of a startled woman and the angry shout of a man cause Luke and Dariana to break into sidesplitting laughter, but neither attempt to retrieve their confused friend. By the time Nyx sheepishly wanders into the room, her friends are curled on the floor and gasping for air.

  “You two could have called me over to the right room,” the channeler growls while trudging behind the divider. Clothes fly over the top of the wooden panels and land all over the floor. “I know you either sensed my thoughts or heard me. Stop giggling. I walked in on something that I shouldn’t have and I think they were newlyweds.”

  As the last piece of clothing sails across the room, the sound of rain emanates from where Nyx is hiding. Her friends see a puddle begin flowing along the floor and threatening to seep through the cracks into the kitchen below. A throbbing wave of heat evaporates the water and leaves the room sweltering like a sauna. Curious and sweating, Luke and Dariana wander over to the divider to see what their friend is doing. Both of them attempt to look around each of the sides, forgetting that Nyx’s change of clothes is in the pouch sitting on a chair. All they see is a thick fog gathered beneath a small storm cloud before several arms of wind hurl them onto their beds. The rain stops and the room cools off before the channeler steps out wearing a soft robe of fiery aura. She opens her bottomless pouch and chooses a set of loose fitting clothes to change into under the protection of her magical covering.

  “You’re really coming into your power,” Dariana says while rubbing her hip. She runs her hand along the bruise to erase the dull pain and watches the round mark start to fade. “Though I think you’re having trouble maintaining restraint and control. Is it the tattoo or the alcohol?”

  “It could just be her right now,” Luke mutters while he stretches and gets comfortable on his bed. He cocks his head toward Nyx and an impish grin appears on his face, exhaustion stopping him from holding back his observation. “Aren’t those Delvin’s clothes? I think I’ve seen him wear those when he’s relaxing.”

  “He left them behind and I needed something in case I was sharing a room with you or Timoran on a hot night,” Nyx replies without hesitation. The half-elf tightens the ribbon that she is using for a belt, the pants threatening to fal
l down to her ankles. “I lost most of my actual sleepwear when Stephen took me and my remaining gown hasn’t been cleaned yet, but none of that matters now. That drunk who tricked Luke had some information. I don’t know how true this is, but he says there’s a missing witness. Everyone who has claimed to have seen the aftermath of General Godric’s death had one thing in common. There was a fourth person at the scene along with Timoran, Edric, and the General. Nobody knows who this was or where they went, so it’s only a rumor.”

  “I’m not sure we should waste our time chasing this,” Dariana suggests even though it sounds exactly like the break they need. She holds up her hands when the channeler pouts and stomps her foot, which releases a spray of tooth-like sparks. “I’m sorry, Nyx, but there’s always a rumor of someone who saw an event and disappeared. People have probably claimed to be this mystery witness in the past, which further damages the tale. If such a person existed then King Edric and Sheriff Kalten would have sought them out and included them in the trial from the very beginning. Timoran would have mentioned a fourth person too. I think this Lodur tricked you out of a few drinks.”

  Luke’s eyes are already closing as he asks, “Did he tell you where this witness is rumored to be hiding? The story would be more believable if it included a location. What did he tell you aside from there being a fourth person that nobody can identify?”

  “Absolutely nothing and I didn’t think to ask,” Nyx groans, flopping onto her bed.

  The three friends remain silent as Dariana and Luke prepare to drift into their nightly trances. Being the only one who needs actual sleep, Nyx shifts and rolls around her bed. She stares at the ceiling and keeps thinking about the conversation she had with Lodur. Fearing that her only chance to help Timoran is fading away, the half-elf puts her pillow over her face and lets a few sobs escape. They suddenly turn into laughter when she realizes a way to prove if the rumor is true or not. Sitting up with a loud cough, she ignores the tired groans and narrow-eyed stares from her friends.