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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Delvin is about to speak when a colorful bird bursts from the canopy and flies high over the lagoon. The young animal sings to the rest of the flock, which is sitting in the trees on the other shore. Sari squeezes her eyes shut as she feels the churning movements of the hungry predators lurking beneath them. With the echoing bellow that Delvin heard soon after waking up, one of the Judges erupts from the lagoon. The serpentine body is at least twenty feet long and wide enough to swallow a fully grown orc whole. It is covered in dark blue scales that ooze a gray slime, which helps it blend into the constantly roiling water. Squirming tentacles hang from the neck and blindly slap at the empty air, their suction cups opening and closing like gasping mouths. A blossom-like head opens to reveal several teeth-lined jaws and a telescoping tongue that ends in a hooked barb. The bird barely avoids being eaten as it darts higher at the final moment and hides in the canopy.

  A gurgling hiss rolls from the creature as it crashes back into the water, the wave rocking one of the remaining boats. The bells ring and the four prisoners immediately dive out of the vessel, which is destroyed by another Judge. Two of the panicking people are devoured after swimming to each other, the attacking beast catching them on its way down. One of the other prisoners floats on his back while his companion desperately flails before going under. The drowning man returns clinging to the head of a Judge that tears him apart with its tentacles and stuffs every morsel into its maw. At the mercy of the current and unable to move, the survivor can only drift until he begins to sink. Refusing to make a noise, the man lets himself disappear beneath the surface and silently drowns among the blind predators.

  Sari covers the boat in another silence spell, her legs shuddering from fatigue. “I can feel the Judges rushing around beneath us. It’s like I’m a tiny fish in the middle of a pack of starving sharks. Do those swim in packs? My point is that I’m fighting a big urge to freak out and scramble to safety, which would get us killed. I doubt I can handle them with my powers because there’s too many and I’m already tired. You need to think of a plan or we’re going to die. Eaten or running out of food are the two most likely outcomes.”

  “The river is too far away and they’re too fast for us to make it to shore,” Delvin says while stroking his chin. A glint of metal brings his attention to a bell in the water, a lone remnant of another boat that joins the other bobbing pieces of wreckage. “The Judges don’t eat the bells, but that doesn’t help us. We would need all of them to be distracted. What about freezing the lagoon?”

  “Too deep and there are other fish in here that I don’t want to hurt,” the gypsy answers with a weak yawn. Her eyes flutter as if she is about to fall asleep, so she pinches her inner thigh as hard as she can. “Even if I could freeze the first ten feet, the Judges stay near the bottom and it looks like they would have the strength to drive through the ice. Also, I’d be unconscious and that will slow us down. Both of us are hurt and exhausted even without pushing our limits, so we can’t do anything that will cause us more harm. A distraction is the best plan, but I’ve no idea how to trick these things.”

  “Fizzle can,” the drite declares as he nudges one of the poles with his snout. The purple dragon licks his lips and rubs his tiny horns against the side of the ship. “Yes. Fizzle can fly, sing, and dodge. Maybe whistle better. Friends use thin branch to move. Sari keep silence. That way not made food. Fizzle fast and smart. Fizzle not be food.”

  “I don’t want you to put yourself in danger,” Delvin states, his eyes following a small disturbance in the lagoon. Instead of a Judge, a thin fish leaps from the water to swallow a butterfly and returns to the depths without a noise. “The fish in here can move silently. Do you think we can use that information?”

  “Not at all,” Sari replies with a flick of her wrist. She creates a splash of water that tricks a Judge into attacking the empty air. “As you can see, they react too quickly. We wouldn’t get very far without a distraction and we can’t move like the fish. Fizzle has the best idea and I’m running out of energy. Once I pass out, we’re lunch.”

  “These poles won’t steer the ship, so wait for me to figure out a way to get us to shore.”

  Moving only his head, Delvin scans the jungle for anything that they can use to distract the Judges. All he can see are trees, birds, and a few mossy sloths that lazily dangle far above the water. His fingers absent-mindedly tap on the edge of his shield as an idea starts to form in his mind. Drawing out a coil of rope from his bag, he ties one end to the boat and extends the other to Sari. The curious gypsy stares at him until Delvin points at the lush jungle and makes a few quick circles with his finger. All she does is shrug and yawn while they hear a Judge take out another boat near the waterfall.

  “My shield spins when it returns to me,” he whispers, the sound of a thrashing prisoner making him close his eyes. Even though he expects the attack, the burst of noise still makes him shudder. “If I tie the rope around the straps and connect the other end to the boat then Fizzle can hook the shield to a tree. By calling it back, the enchantment will reel us to shore. All I need is another length of rope because this is only fifty feet. I know you have about a thirty foot length in one of your skirt pockets, Sari. That should be enough.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the gypsy hisses before recasting the silence spell. Her fingers twitch and threaten to lock from the strain. “The rope could snap, the knots could become undone, or the shield could come loose. You don’t even know the amount of force that thing has when returning. What happens if this bench comes off while you’re sitting on it? Then you’re dragged across the lagoon and I’m stuck out here.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Sari pulls out a flask of fae water and takes a sip, the precious liquid giving her a jolt of energy. “I do, but it means I’ll be useless for at least a day. When Fizzle distracts the Judges, I can use the rest of my magic to race us to shore. I’ll harden the water directly beneath us to block attacks or at least prevent the boat from being destroyed. I’m not talking ice, but like steel or solid rock. We might get launched into the air though. So maybe you should tie part of the rope to your shield, the other end to your waist, and get ready to hurl it at a branch. It’s kind of like a Luke tactic, but I think we can pull it off. Probably with a few cuts and bruises just as if our beloved forest tracker was actually here.”

  “Fizzle get ready,” the drite says as his wings flutter with excitement. “Go when Delvin have shield ready. Be fast.”

  The drite hovers high above the lagoon, his keen eyesight picking out the large shadows swimming beneath his friends. As soon as Delvin secures his shield and waves, Fizzle dives for the water and slaps the surface with his tail. Flapping his crimson wings with all his might, he swerves and continues hitting the lagoon. Judges explode in his wake and desperately try to catch the elusive meal, some of them crashing into each other. With the eyeless predators violently thrashing, the water is churned and the other boat is rocked. Confused and scared, the remaining prisoners try to row with the poles and only accomplish turning in a circle. When a Judge rises close to them, one of its whipping tentacles sends the vessel and all of its shouting occupants tumbling into the jungle.

  Sari works on keeping their boat steady, so she is unable to tell if any of the prisoners have survived. When Fizzle uses his tail to trace a long circle around the lagoon, the gypsy spots an opening to the shore. Concentrating all of her aura on the water, she makes a shield of hardened liquid around the hull and surges the vessel ahead. It is a slow start considering the power and focus Sari is using, but she fights to remain conscious and alert. She steers them around the bellowing predators and cringes when she feels one deliver a glancing blow from below. The jarring impact spins them, which causes Sari to go in the opposite direction for several precious seconds. She makes a wide turn to head back to safety while Fizzle darts around the canopy and whistles.

  The adventurers are within a few feet of solid land when Sari’s eyes flutter closed a
nd she collapses. As the last of their momentum carries them to shore, Delvin catches the gypsy and makes a running leap off the boat. He crashes into the bushes while a Judge bursts from the water and destroys the wooden vessel. The warrior watches the beast and notices that he dropped his shield, which is wedged between the beast’s teeth. Delvin drops Sari before the enchanted piece of armor is swallowed by the looming Judge and he is yanked into the air. Remaining calm and ignoring the pop in his shoulder, the warrior calls the shield back to his forearm. The enchanted disc rips out of the creature’s mouth and the young man falls toward the lagoon. He is saved by Fizzle ramming into him at top speed, the pair slamming into a tree.

  Groaning in pain, Delvin stands with Fizzle curled in his arms and staggers to where Sari is snoring. He drags her away from the edge of the water and slumps against a tree before sliding to the ground. As the tension washes from his body, the warrior huddles with his friends and those who are awake watch the Judges sink back into the roiling lagoon.

  *****

  The undead hordes huddle in the shadows at the sound of marching feet echoing throughout Shayd. It is a cacophony of booted steps and barefoot padding that rolls into a wall of noise rarely heard on the shadowy continent. Demon taskmasters remain at their posts and nervously wring their whips, unsure if they should react to any stragglers. The chaos elves who are being left behind stand on the hills and cliffs, waving to their loved ones and holding up children to watch the army. Several priests and priestesses cast spells of protection and strength to bolster the anxious soldiers’ nerves. All of them know that the enchantments will fade long before the battle, but the touch of Ambrosine’s power is enough to keep many of them going. The spectators are amazed at their people’s staggering numbers considering they have been divided into small groups since the day Baron Kernaghan stepped out of the Chaos Void. A few brave souls whisper about rebelling, but know it is a feeble dream that should be forgotten. Even with such great numbers, their master is still a monster and has too many powerful beings at his command.

  Trinity stands alone at the top of a hill, the crackling portal a few feet away from her. The magical vortex is immense and she shudders at the raw energy sent pulsing through the stony earth. Observing her loyal soldiers, she smiles at the sight of the various armors and weapons that her people have gathered throughout the generations. There is very little uniform to their appearance other than the cobalt skin and pointy ears. Yet Trinity knows every chaos elf has trained for years in their stolen gear since childhood, each member being gifted equipment on their tenth birthday. For those who wish to help their people and lack the magic to be a caster, the life of a warrior and assassin is the only path. To this day, their Queen is proud that so many of her people have chosen to dedicate themselves to the entire nation and not strive for personal survival.

  Trinity nods to Sebave, who is standing at the base of the hill and helping the Generals rally their troops. Clothed in a silk robe of black and purple, the priestess does her best to soothe the more nervous soldiers by bringing their attention to their beloved ruler. It is the sight of the great Queen that drives the youngest of the warriors, their desire to please her making the flickers of fear seem foolish and unimportant. Not a single chaos elf turns away as the large army marches into the portal, many leaving Shayd for the first time. A low sucking noise can be heard every time someone crosses over, but the next one in line never hesitates to follow.

  “An army of brave little lambs,” the Baron says as he appears next to Trinity. The procession of chaos elves pauses and moves only when their Queen waves them on. “They truly wish to make you proud. It pains me to put you through this because nobody could ever replace you as their greatest leader. Loved, respected, and protected by so many. I guess some people can be ruled by more than fear.”

  “Are you having a change of heart, master?” Trinity asks in a dull voice that drips with venom. She removes his hand as soon as he touches her shoulder, ignoring the scowl on the immortal’s face. “No offense, but I don’t want my people to think the two of us are setting them up for a fall. I told them that you’ve decreed this to be my last chance. If my people see us being friendly then they may think I’m lying to them. It’s all about appearances, master, and I need to maintain the image of a victimized Queen to give my army strength. Not that it’s anything other than the truth considering your orders.”

  “In that case, this new addendum will make them unstoppable,” the Baron states while fixing his leather gloves. There is the hint of regret in his eyes that disappears too quickly for his agent to be sure it was ever there. “Just a little extra motivation. I know how you can get in the field when it comes to your fellow channeler.”

  “You already said I have to win or die to protect my people.”

  “True and this is along the same lines.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The warlord smiles to reveal his glistening teeth and leans forward to whisper in the chaos elf’s ear. “Any soldiers who return in failure will be executed on the spot. There will be no deserters even if you are killed by Nyx. All of your people must strive for victory or die on the battlefield. I will add that you are under the same rule. Return to Shayd in defeat and I will destroy you in front of your people. Then I will bring the chaos elves to the brink of extinction and rebuild them with your child as my new agent. I will have no more mistakes and mischief from your kind.”

  “This is going too far, Arthuru,” Trinity growls, struggling to remain calm. She can sense her people’s attention on her and dispels the ball of lightning she has unwittingly conjured in her palm. “You can threaten me and tell me to fight Nyx to the death. That is fine since you are angry at me, but my people don’t stand a chance against her if I fall. Stop punishing them for things they have no control over or had any involvement in. My people did nothing to Stephen, so allow them to return to their families. You can even leave my body on that battlefield for scavengers or feed it to your demons. Please don’t punish those who are loyal to me for something that I’ve done.”

  “I need to make sure you and your people are at their peak,” the Baron callously replies as he watches the last of the soldiers enter the portal. With a snap of his fingers, the demons go after the remaining chaos elves to whip them back to work. “Perhaps I am being too harsh. To put your mind at ease, the ones who stayed behind will be safe whether you live or die. I will only harm them if you return in failure or try to hide in exile.”

  “What if I’m captured?”

  “Then continue to fight or slit your own throat.”

  “I would need time to escape if that’s the situation.”

  “Very well, your highness. I will leave myself flexible depending on the circumstances.”

  “Thank you for the small favor.”

  Moving away from the Baron, Trinity walks down the hill to where Sebave is patiently waiting. The priestess can see the anger and stress on her Queen’s face, but only bows her head in respect. She touches her leader’s belly to check on the child and smiles at the strong kick that moves her hand. With a final glance at the stone-faced warlord, the two chaos elves walk through the portal and disappear from Shayd. An ear-wrenching tearing sound causes every living thing to writhe in pain until the vortex closes.

  “Good luck, your highness,” the Baron whispers as he catches the small, purple mote of magic. He swallows the tiny speck like it is a seed and lets a fraction of his senses drift toward Stonehelm. “I will be watching very carefully.”

  9

  Nyx rubs at her eyes and takes another drink from her decanter, the sweet wine no longer registering on her tongue. She leans back in the wooden chair and glances at the lines of bookshelves that make up the simple library. Each row is composed of three shelving units that are no higher than seven feet, only a few having been completely filled. The collection is impressive considering Stonehelm is far away from the Serabian border and the regional tomes are entirely about the tribe’s histo
ry. Yet, Nyx finds this one aggravatingly small and easy to navigate when compared to the library of Rainbow Tower. Her mood has steadily plunged into darkness since after two days of reading, she has found little information on Aintaranurh. As she scans the room, the elderly librarian meets the channeler’s gaze and sighs as if expecting another request for a book that he does not believe exists. Seeing the old man’s reaction, Nyx turns away and sets her groggy attention on the city below.

  The midmorning sun is directly ahead, which forces her to cover her eyes in a layer of protective magic. A class of excited students are with their exhausted teacher at the far end of the balcony, two of the children having just finished brawling over chalk. All of the youngsters repeatedly peek at Nyx and whisper about her until they are rapped on the head with a long, wooden ruler. She ignores the attention and focuses on the shifting crowd surrounding the nearby courthouse. Being so high above the city, the scene reminds her of a colony of ants swarming around a dying beetle. Wanting to think happier thoughts, Nyx searches the cliffs for signs of the snow tiger cubs. She smiles when she sees them trying to pounce on their new mother’s flicking tail, the older predator gnawing on the remains of a caribou.

  “Have you uncovered anything else about Aintaranurh?” Cyrus asks as he joins the yawning half-elf. The barbarian opens a small book and skims the pages until he reaches a section that interests him. “I had no idea our tribe had poetry. This one is all about battles and weapons, but I find the form rather intriguing. Timoran and I dabbled in verse when we were younger. He dropped it to focus more on philosophy. I continued to indulge my curiosity. Still, it never occurred to me that the library would have books of this stuff. At least beyond the romantic ones I’ve found hidden on the bottom shelves. Did you know rhyming isn’t necessary?”

  “I was more into songs than poetry, but they’re similar,” Nyx admits, tapping her finger on the book in front of her. She takes another sip of her drink and swings her bare feet onto the warm railing. “Thank you for checking on me and helping when I need it. All I’ve found are a few notes about defenses, but nothing definite. Fortunatos and bells are mentioned a few times, so I think those are the guardian and the main challenge respectively. It still seems very lacking and that worries me. Almost as if the temple is open, but it’s never been explored. There’s nothing on what your people use Aintaranurh for, which could have given me a clue. I think Timoran mentioned it once, but I don’t remember. Probably the drink giving me issues. Earlier, I forgot Luke’s last name when we had breakfast.”