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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Due to the added weight of Lodur, the griffin is not as fast as she could be, so she makes up for the loss by flying erratically. Maneuvering around the larger animals, Lucy scratches and pecks at any openings she finds. She refuses to kill or severely injure the territorial beasts, which forces her to be more cautious and defensive than she is used to. Luke’s voice rings in her ears when he has an idea that she only agrees to because she is outnumbered. Catching a roc’s beak with her hind legs, the griffin spins and flips the massive bird into one of its friends. It is enough to stun the animals, but the maneuver causes her to hover for a second to recover her senses. As her enemies attempt to close in, she escapes and soars around the mountain with all of the ivory birds in pursuit.

  “Leave their territory and wait for them to fly back into the gorge over there!” Lodur shouts as he hangs on for dear life. The griffin spirals away from two of the rocs and dives low enough to skim the ground when she pulls back up. “The gorge is the entrance to their nesting area. All we need to do is make them believe we’re no longer a threat.”

  “Those birds will never let me hear the end of it if I retreat,” thinks the griffin, refusing to let go of her pride. A twinge of laughter from Luke causes her to attempt a smirk, the expression not working due to her solid beak. “Yes, I have been with you for too long. Still, perhaps there is another way that will not risk us wasting time and reverting back to you at a poor moment. I can already sense that your energy is failing.”

  The griffin heads for the sky and disappears within a bank of clouds, which the rocs are more than willing to enter at first. Naturally afraid of lightning, a rumble of thunder gives them reason to stay back and gather in a small group that hovers over the mountain. Their powerful wings flap in unison to send a wind that tears the hiding spot apart, but their enemy is nowhere to be seen. Searching the area for several minutes, they fail to locate the smaller beast and eventually return to the gorge. None of them notice the leonine form clinging to the bottom of a cliff after having escaped out the back of the mild storm and making a large circle back to the mountain. Pressed between her stomach and the rough stone is Lodur, who is still sucking in gasping breaths.

  “How was that not retreating?” Luke asks when the griffin drops from its hiding place. She flips to put her rider on her back and waits for him to get settled. “I think running away and hiding is a form of retreating.”

  “Yes, but I outwitted them. Proves I’m smarter.”

  “Just find the cabin, Lucy.”

  The griffin makes a slow circle around the mountain in search of the hidden building. She sees it tucked within a wide, exposed cavern that has been made bigger by the winds and years of destructive lightning strikes. Lights are on in the windows and a trail of smoke is flowing from the chimney, proving that someone is home. Approaching the cabin, the griffin notices the glint of metal too late to get entirely out of the projectile’s path. The heavy spear strikes her wing and she lurches to the side, nearly throwing Lodur off her back. With the last of her strength, the injured animal reaches the cliff and transforms back into Luke as soon as she crashes into the solid ground.

  “What was that?” the half-elf asks, his eyes locked on the large spear in his side. He grimaces at the sensation of the metal head that is gently touching his ribs and threatening to puncture a lung. “I can’t move with this thing in me. So weird that it doesn’t hurt as much as it should, but it still feels like I’ve been stabbed. Please tell me that this witness has something to help with this.”

  “She does, but that doesn’t mean she will,” a woman says while she steps out of the shadows and removes her dark mask. Blonde hair falls down to the barbarian’s waist and her blue eyes are filled with suspicion. For a brief moment, she appears to flicker out of existence, but Luke assumes the effect is because he is losing consciousness. “Who are you and why should I save you? Let him speak for himself, old man.”

  “My name is Luke Callindor and I’m here to ask for your help in clearing the name of Timoran Wrath,” the champion answers, grunting at the blossoming pain. With a quivering hand, he reaches up to touch the blood that is dripping out of his wound. “He’s my friend and I know he’s innocent. King Edric and Sheriff Kalten are going to execute him as early as tomorrow if I can’t save him. There’s more, but I’d rather speak over food and without the threat of dying from my injuries. Do you have a name, missing witness?”

  The woman plucks the spear from Luke’s side and presses her cloth mask against the wound while picking him up with one arm. “Come inside and I’ll give you one of the healing potions Lodur gave me for emergencies. My name is Tigris Wrath. If you’re a friend of my husband’s then you’re a friend of mine.”

  *****

  The smell of cooked caribou drifts through the large encampment and draws all of the soldiers to the multiple bonfires. Snow tigers prowl a mile away from the intruders and roar to make sure they are recognized as the rulers of the wilderness. Many of the chaos elves give the beasts little attention, but a few curious individuals watch the large cats and revel in being away from home for the first time. Patch-covered tents have been set up, most of them being used to protect the army’s supplies and gear from the elements. The soldiers keep their bedrolls in groups of ten or twenty, the ground feeling softer and more even than the one on Shayd. None of them know how far it is to Stonehelm, so they do their best to speak quietly and make sure to avoid drinking anything other than water.

  Wandering among her people, Trinity repeatedly ignores Sebave’s requests to get some sleep and conserve her strength. She is too busy talking to anyone who is crying and assuring them that their loved ones are safe. Chewing on a skewer of caribou, she stops at a group of casters who are studying their battered spellbooks. Awkwardly kneeling in front of them, Trinity answers their questions and gives them advice since several of them have never set foot on a battlefield. It is when she tries to stand that the baby gives her a solid kick to the stomach and she doubles over. More hands than she can count reach for her, but it is Sebave who eases her Queen away from the crowd.

  “Please take some time to rest,” the priestess says while guiding Trinity toward a dark purple tent. She rubs the other woman’s belly to deliver a calming spell, ignoring the defiant squirming of the baby. “I will attend to the soldiers and report any emergencies that require your attention. We are supposed to march tomorrow and you told me we are a day’s journey away from Stonehelm. That will take a toll on your body since the baby is becoming more restless by the day. I believe the child is reacting to your stress, but I cannot be certain. The father’s blood brings a level of mystery to this.”

  “My child better behave until this is over. Thank you, Sebave, and I promise to get a good night’s rest,” Trinity replies with a forced smirk. Groping for the tent flap, she ducks inside and stops when she sees a familiar figure on her bed. “What are you doing here, Yola? If you’re here to cause trouble then leave. I’m not in the mood.”

  The sleepy immortal stands and adjusts her engorged stomach, which wriggles like she has eaten a bucket of eels. Yola tiptoes across the tent and stretches her body to give her friend a hug without them touching bellies. A few tickling tears fall on Trinity’s neck and creep along her skin, the liquid gathering on her cheeks. The chaos elf shivers at the slimy sensation until the salty drops leap onto the ground. A collection of pillows sprout from them, but they have gaudy colors and one of them yawns to reveal teeth.

  “I don’t want you to go away,” Yola whispers as her body retracts and pulls the chaos elf to the bed. The women sit among the pillows and a tray of grapes float between them. “You’re my only friend and I need you to help me with the baby. I tried to convince Arthuru to go easy on you, but he’s so angry and confused. He’s desperate to strike a blow against the champions and make them believe that he isn’t simply waiting for them to fight through his agents. Yet, I’m sure that’s the situation he is creating by putting you out here. He also believes
you need to feel desperate to win, which I don’t agree with.”

  “I’m touched by your concern, but there’s nothing I can do,” Trinity replies, grabbing a handful of fruit and tossing a piece in her mouth. She takes her time chewing the sweet orb and licks her lips to catch every drop of juice. “He’s given me no choice. My people need me to fight and win. At first, I took some comfort in the idea that these men and women could go home if I died. Now that’s not an option, so I can’t back out or lose.”

  “Do they know about that rule?”

  “I only told Sebave for now, but I will tell the others tomorrow.”

  Yola wraps her hair around her hand and plays with the loose threads, the former goddess unsure of what she should say. Her brain has always been a maelstrom of chaos, but there is something different this time. The giddiness and joy of being able to do whatever comes to her mind has been replaced by a hole that she fails to understand. All she knows is that the only person in the world who ever treated her like a true friend and made her smile might be erased from her life. Lines of red run through Yola’s black and white body, each one bleeding liquid fire that evaporates before it can damage the tent.

  “Do you want me to stay with you?” she bluntly asks. A more sinister idea comes to her mind and she grins wide enough for the corners of her mouth to touch her eyes. “I could even kill the Baron. The only thing that stops me is the prophecy and . . . well, I’m not entirely certain I can defeat him without my original powers. If you wish it then I promise to try and help you come back home.”

  “Thank you, my dearest friend, but I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Trinity replies, shifting closer to give Yola a kiss on the cheek. The chaos elf ignores the sensation of phantom lips touching hers and refuses to see if the immortal has grown another mouth. “Some days I think you’ve prepared me for motherhood without realizing it. I don’t remember when I started looking out for you even on the days that you irritated me. It was easy to watch over you since you rarely left Shayd and nothing could hurt you. Now I feel like I need to protect you from yourself. Go back home, Yola, and please don’t do anything to put yourself in danger. Especially not on my behalf.”

  “I can’t make that promise and you know it,” the green-haired woman declares with a sense of childish pride. A pinch on her intestine causes Yola to grab a decanter of alcohol and plug it into her bellybutton for the baby to drink from. “Would it help if I promise not to annoy you anymore? What if I hide all of you in the Chaos Void while I change the Baron’s mind? He only needs time to calm down and then he will realize that throwing you away is foolish. I mean, I know he doesn’t entirely trust you because of how you’ve acted toward Nyx, but that’s temporary. Please don’t go into this fight and die.”

  “I plan on winning, so don’t worry.”

  “But Nyx doesn’t have a baby in her belly to slow her down.”

  Trinity runs her hands up and down her stomach, feeling the unborn child move and turn in its sleep. “My plan was to maintain a shield around my baby. That would certainly put me at a disadvantage, which you and Sebave have pointed out. I’m still determined to win, but I admit that my chances are slim. After all, I have to protect my child and lead my people. I don’t know if I can do both.”

  “Not unless you put the baby somewhere else,” Yola casually suggests before demonstrating by removing her belly and juggling it. A clawed hand erupts from the ball of flesh and smacks the immortal across the face, forcing her to put it back. “The little guy gets feisty if I do that. I’ll drink a gallon of seawater to teach him not to hit mommy. Are you sure I can’t sneak you back to Shayd? Maybe I can hide you under my bed and sneak you scraps from dinner.”

  “I’m not a pet, so it wouldn’t work,” the chaos elf states, chuckling at her friend’s persistence. Rising to her feet, Trinity puts a hand on Yola’s shoulder and takes a shuddering breath. “I do have a request. If I fall, please use your powers to protect my people from the Baron. Tell him that was my final wish and I asked you to see it through since you are my best friend. Be firm and unyielding if he tries to refuse. Will you do this for me?”

  “I swear on my own child that I will protect your people,” the immortal swears as she strokes Trinity’s cheek. Her body gradually turns into steam and only her head remains solid as she wraps around the chaos elf. “I love you, my friend. Please do whatever you can to stay alive and we’ll meet again.”

  “I promise we will.”

  Yola dissipates while Trinity examines herself in a mirror, the glass a little foggy around the edges. She has the image focus on her belly and she closes her eyes while concentrating on her child’s aura. The energy is very strong and potent, which she fears will be too tempting to access when fighting Nyx. For the first time, Trinity considers leading her people into hiding and waiting for her child to be born before facing her rival. She forgets the idea within seconds, knowing that those left behind would be made to suffer. Even with Yola on her side, she needs to engage in battle and at least try to kill Nyx. Otherwise, the Baron will never be satisfied and ignore the former goddess’s demands.

  “Only one thing to do, little one,” Trinity whispers as she sits on the bed. She eats a few more grapes and takes some soothing breaths to calm her nerves. “Can you come in here, Sebave? I have something to discuss with you.”

  The priestess swiftly enters and goes to her Queen’s side, kneeling next to the pillows instead of sitting. “What do you wish to talk about? I heard you mention Yola before I could leave, so I stayed outside. Are you angry at my eavesdropping? I promise that I didn’t hear anything important.”

  “I have a favor to ask, but it will remove you from the battle,” Trinity replies, sliding to the floor to look the other woman in the eye. Seeing confusion in her midwife’s eyes, she takes the purple-haired chaos elf by the shoulders and smiles warmly. “It isn’t as bad as you think. This will ensure the future of our people and give me a better chance at claiming victory. My baby is strong and I feel that I have the power to transfer it to you. This may require that I access some of your holy aura as well, which is another reason I want your permission. If we do this then you must stay in hiding and not be by my side.”

  “I would be honored, Queen Trinity, but what if you fall?” Sebave asks while gripping her leader’s arms. A wave of pride, joy, and fear sends flutters through her heart, which she knows is evident on her face. “I don’t believe I have the wisdom and strength to raise a child with such power. For that matter, where would I go?”

  “Trust in Ambrosine and yourself like I do,” the violet-eyed ruler says as she settles on this course of action. Part of her refuses to let go of the baby, but she knows it is the best thing to do for her child. “If I die then wait for the dust to settle and find Nyx. As strange as it sounds, I believe she would help you even if she’s the one who killed me. Maybe you’ll end up in Rainbow Tower or Darkmill after that. I can’t say for certain, but I do know it would be a place where you and my baby will be protected.”

  “I will do as you wish.”

  “Thank you, Sebave. Now relax and I apologize for any pain.”

  The spell starts with a crackling of energy along their arms and a rumbling from Trinity’s stomach. A tunnel of magic twists from her bellybutton and connects to Sebave’s midsection, the priestess shuddering at the sensation of her organs being rearranged. Minutes of silence pass with both women feeling pressure on their bodies, the tent becoming hot enough to make them sweat profusely. Trinity gasps when her stomach starts to shrink, the presence of the baby gradually diminishing until she feels nothing at all. Across from her, Sebave grunts and coughs while her body changes to accommodate the active child. Her eyes clench shut and her jaw locks at the bizarre sensation that switches from bursts of pain to waves of ticklishness. By the time the spell is over, the two chaos elves are slumped against the bed and crying.

  “I’m sorry for doing this, little one,” Trinity says, leaning forward to kiss the prie
stess’s belly. Already missing the baby, she nearly breaks down when she feels a foot press against her lips. “Please forgive me for putting you through this. I promise that I will take you back as soon as I can. Would you stay in my tent tonight, Sebave? Just so I feel like I’m still with her. You can go into hiding in the morning.”

  The priestess struggles to stand and is forced to accept the Queen’s help. “I refuse to leave your side until the battle. Even then, I will not be far from the army. Your daughter and I will be watching.”

  “Daughter?”

  “I peeked, your highness.”

  Trinity grins wide and hugs the other woman while laughing and crying at the same time. To the wandering soldiers who pass the tent, they cannot tell if their leader is happy or sad. All they know is that it is safer to stay outside and continue praying for Ambrosine to protect their beloved Queen.

  11

  Perched in a tree, Delvin calmly watches the thick underbrush for signs of movement. The bare-chested warrior’s sword is strapped to his back, every patch of exposed skin covered in dirt and small cuts. He leans around the trunk to make sure Sari is still there, the quiet gypsy keeping an eye on the other side of their hiding place. She wipes sweat from her brow and adjusts her shirt, the fabric having been crudely cut to reveal her arms and belly. The gypsy is still wearing her layered skirts, which she has hoisted up to her knees and tied off to cool her legs. The tired champions know that the rising jungle heat will eventually drive them to the ground in search of shade, but their enemies are still on the hunt. After days of skirmishes and narrow escapes, time has swirled into one big battle and they are happy to get even a few minutes of peace. The joy is limited since the champions have noticed that their wild path has placed them back within sight of the Judges’ lagoon.