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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Give me my weapon and I will defend Stonehelm until my final breath,” the champion replies with a grin.

  13

  King Edric pushes his way to the top of the wall and is amazed at what he sees within the valley. Chaos elves and barbarians are clashing throughout the valley and casualties from both sides litter the battlefield. The mass of cobalt-skinned intruders goes so far back that there seems to be no end to them. Thin blades meet battle axes to create ringing echoes that combine with screams from the dying. Shamans unleash hazy spirits to attack their enemies as keen-eyed archers strike the primitive priests down from atop the cliffs. Enemy casters pepper the Stonehelm forces with spells, their magic punching holes in the unruly mob of muscular warriors. The casting becomes less frequent as the battle condenses and the magic-hurling chaos elves are forced to use their mundane weapons. The fear of magic on both sides reaches a point that whenever soldiers hear chanting, those in the area immediately stop to look around and attack the source. Even with their superior strength and knowledge of the terrain, the barbarians are struggling against the enormous army that refuses to give ground. The fervor of the chaos elves is so potent that many of their warriors manage a final attack after suffering anything less than a decapitation.

  “The ones that fall are still stabbing at our legs until they breathe their last,” Edric whispers as he watches the hectic battle. He notices many of his warriors are on the city side of the wall, all of them showing minor injuries. “Who is commanding the army? I require a report on the situation.”

  “Technically Nyx called us into action, but I’ve been making the decisions,” Cyrus answers as he approaches his leader. The black-haired warrior is covered in cuts and his hammer is dripping with blood, but a wide grin of excitement is on his face. “She’s handling Queen Trinity and I’ve been trying to keep the chaos elves at bay until you and the War Chieftains arrived. My goal was to conserve our forces, so I’ve been letting them go in and out of the doors in groups of one hundred. Most of our shamans have been called back because we need healers and many of the enemy casters have disappeared. We’re outnumbered at least twelve to one and they are matching us in ferocity. Still, I believe we can turn the tide with a full rush. As far as the chaos elves know, we’re unprepared and still getting our bearings.”

  “When in reality, we are stalling and giving them a false sense of superiority,” the King says while watching his War Chieftains organize their forces. Knowing that they need a central military figure for such a battle, he draws a tiger tooth medallion out of his pocket. “We have not had a true general since Godric passed. This is a time where we need someone wise, strong, and trusted to stand in the frontline. Due to recent events, it cannot be me or Sheriff Kalten. Please take this medallion and lead Stonehelm to victory.”

  “You’re planning to execute my best friend,” Cyrus points out, his face losing its charming expression. Knowing that everyone is watching the exchange, he takes the medallion and puts it around his neck. “But this isn’t about us. I will protect Stonehelm and obey my king during a battle. Any personal issue I have with your decisions will be settled after we drive this army away. Will you be joining us or staying here?”

  Hurt by the blunt question, Edric puts his hands on the wall and gazes over the battlefield. A fresh wave of barbarians are entering the mass of bodies, their War Chieftain swinging her flail in a skull-crushing arc. The chaos elves react by surging forward instead of falling back and their forces practically consume several of the Stonehelm warriors. Crossbow bolts erupt from the cliffs, the barbarian archers finally prepared and within range. They only get a few destructive volleys into the mass of cobalt-skinned figures before they find themselves under attack from opposing archers. Armed with longbows, the chaos elves have the advantage of range and they swiftly take out several of their targets in the first minute. The only thing that is in the crossbowmen’s favor is that they are partially protected by wooden shacks that they can duck inside of. Instead of wasting ammunition on the distant and well-hidden threat, they risk their lives to jump up and fire into the army on the ground. It is a reckless tactic that strains their nerves and forces them to shoot without aiming. All they can do is pray that they are not hitting their own men and the enemy archers are looking in another direction.

  “I will lead a group along the cliffs to defeat those archers,” Edric declares, removing his cloak and shirt. Years of being on the throne has given him a small gut, but his arms and chest are still muscular and strong. “We will use the topmost paths to get above them. It will leave us open, but it is the quickest way. Shields should make it more difficult for them to deliver fatal wounds. I will have Sheriff Kalten lead a group on the other side of the valley.”

  “I think you should be in the valley and take the front to rally your men,” Dariana says, startling the barbarians. She continues to tug at the collar that refuses to come off, her powers still restrained. “It would be best for them to see you in the thick of the fight. They will be more aggressive in order to protect their leader and their trust in you will be strengthened if you’re sharing in the danger. I can handle the archers alone as soon as Udelia releases me from this collar. The enemy won’t see me until it’s too late.”

  “I’d listen to her,” Cyrus admits while directing the main force into position. Using hand gestures, he gets the remaining barbarians into a long column that will barely fit through the entrance. “Once we go through the gate, the battle will become even more heated. Things could get worse if Nyx and Trinity’s fight returns to Stonehelm. If you’re coming with us then I want to put you in the middle of our forces. With any luck, the chaos elves will try to swarm toward you and leave themselves open to attacks from the sides.”

  Amused by the strategy, Edric chuckles and stomps his winged spear on the ground. “You are using me as bait.”

  “Well that’s what you would be no matter where I put you. We might as well use it to our advantage.”

  “Fair enough. Do we have any other important placements?”

  Through the din of battle, they hear the whispers before many of the soldiers on the wall head for the stairs. With nobody knowing that he has been sentenced to death, the sight of an unshackled Timoran walking alongside Sheriff Kalten is seen as a sign of innocence. Wearing his Ifrit fur vest and carrying his tiger-striped great axe, the champion is an impressive figure whose presence sends a charge through his fellow tribesmen. Many shake his hand and welcome him home, but he spends very little time talking. To his mild frustration, a few of the younger warriors refuse to get out of his way without a proper greeting. The red-haired barbarian stomps his foot and snorts his displeasure of being blocked from his goal, reminding everyone of an irritable bear. A path is made for him to approach Edric and Cyrus, one man watching with excitement and the other with dread-filled apprehension. Timoran bows to his fellow warriors before looking over the battlefield, the start of a grin making his lip curl.

  “This should fix your wrist,” Udelia tells Dariana as she hands the woman a potion. There are two more hanging from her belt, both of them protected by metal spheres. She finishes securing her chainmail and straps her huge broadsword to her back. “What is the situation and where should we go? Before I forget, I release you from your bond, Dariana. Not really sure how to do it though.”

  “It’s still attached,” the telepath declares, the collar refusing to budge. She finishes the potion and takes some comfort from the sensation of her bones knitting back together. “Do you know how to remove this, Edric? I can only access some of my powers now, which I would say puts me at half strength. This will make me a liability out there, so please tell us how to release me entirely.”

  “It should have worked with her words,” the King replies, running a sweaty hand over his bald head. An explosion in the distance draws everyone’s attention to the east where they see a pillar of violet smoke. “The Near Gods might be causing interference with all of the artifacts in Stonehelm. I i
magine it will do the same to anything being carried by our enemies. General Cyrus, please tell our soldiers not to depend on any enchanted items that they are carrying. We do not want anyone to try something, fail, and get killed.”

  “I’ll meet everyone down below,” Cyrus says while rushing for the stairs. He stops as he passes Timoran and turns back to the King, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I suggest we use the fright opener when we want the fun to really start. The chaos elves are determined, but maybe a chorus of battle cries could rattle them. I’ll have the men prepare. Also, it might be best to have Dariana and Udelia take out the archers together. The sheriff can continue trying to release the collar and act as a very deadly shield for our friend. Wait, do I outrank you, Udelia?”

  “Only if we’re talking smell,” she retorts with a smirk. The blonde barbarian clears her throat at the stern glares that she receives from the nearby soldiers. “Sorry. The excitement of battle is causing old habits to appear. Generals outrank sheriffs in these situations. I’m the law inside of Stonehelm while you are in charge of the battlefield. Congratulations on your new title and I will follow your orders to help Dariana.”

  Cyrus nods and hurries to meet with his men, several of the other warriors following him to take their positions. Only a handful of soldiers are left on the wall, all of them rushing to stack piles of metal orbs. Udelia and Dariana check their gear before jogging to the southern edge of the mountain. Unnoticed by the chaos elves, they wedge themselves into a crevice and slowly climb to the top of the natural barrier. Both women stay low as they emerge into the hot winds that are washing over the cliffs from the south. Catching Udelia by the wrist, Dariana signals for her to wait while she gives them a psychic cover. Straining her weakened powers, the champion hides their presence by making them resemble a collection of heat hazes.

  “And what will you do?” King Edric asks Timoran. The two men find themselves alone as the other warriors finish stocking their ammunition and get in position. “This reminds me of when we fought the Bog Hare Tribe. Cyrus, Udelia, Tigris, and Godric were all with us back then. It seems odd that we find ourselves here again before I have you executed. Unless you die out there or earn yourself redemption.”

  “I sense that you hope I fall in battle,” Timoran states, his emotionless eyes fixed on the ruler. The pair turn to watch a boulder fall into the chaos elf forces, the stone dislodged by several crossbow bolts to its crumbling base. “The two of us want to protect Stonehelm. I will stay out of your way and you will stay out of mine. Perhaps Kerr will use our battle rage to clear our minds and reveal the truth.”

  The ruler’s eyebrow twitches and he grips his spear tightly, the beginning of a headache making him wince. “What are you talking about?”

  “My memories of those past events are unclear,” the champion admits, scratching at the scar on his shoulder. “I get the sense that you suffer from a similar blockage. We remember being over General Godric’s body, but neither of us know what led to that point in time. Correct me if I am wrong, my old teacher.”

  “You are right, but that does not change your fate,” the older man retorts, a twinge of anger and frustration in his voice. With the cracking of his knuckles, the King calms down enough to push his personal feelings away. “This is a pointless conversation based on emotions we have kept locked away for years. You and I have something to settle, but we need to work together for the sake of Stonehelm. I asked you to fight for the tribe because I know you are a strong warrior and it was a wise decision. In the heat of the moment, I forget that I hate or at least distrust you. I shall hold onto my logic and keep my emotions in check because it is for the benefit of our people. Choose your position and fight hard.”

  Timoran stays on the wall while King Edric takes the stairs, most of the army cheering at the sight of their leader. Every breath is invigorating to the champion and he lets the stress of containment seep out of his muscles. His eyes scan the battlefield to see where he will be needed most, his attention locking on the center of the chaos elf forces. Stretching his legs, Timoran gets closer to the far edge and waits for the doors to open wide. The moment he hears the bellowing cry of the Snow Tiger Tribe, he makes a running leap into the fray and fights as if this is the last battle he will ever taste.

  *****

  Realizing that Luke cannot carry both of the armored barbarians, the three travelers have settled for taking the quickest foot path to Stonehelm. Leaving at dawn, they make decent time because Tigris’s presence keeps the rocs and other creatures of the mountain at bay. It is midmorning by the time they reach the start of the foothills and stop on a high ridge that shows them most of the valley. As the thick fog dissolves, they forget discussing what they should do upon reaching Stonehelm. From their vantage point, the travelers can see that their path is blocked by a massive army flowing toward the city walls. Cobalt-skinned archers are on the cliffs, revealing the identity of the enemy who none of them would have expected to attack the city so brazenly. The warriors calmly watch the battle to see if they can discern the cause, but nothing is clear from so far away. A slight tremor runs through the mountains as the wall doors swing open and the roars of the Snow Tiger Tribe echo across the mountains. Thundering footsteps and the collision of bodies, sends every winged creature into the air, especially vultures that realize a glorious meal is in their future. Even the rocs have left their nesting ground since their slumber has been disrupted by the noise. The giant birds fly high above the valley, yet there is an unnerving energy in the breeze that tells them to stay among the clouds.

  “Why are the chaos elves attacking Stonehelm?” Tigris asks as the trio observe the distant armies. She shifts her pack of spears to her other shoulder and steps closer to the cliff’s edge, her eyes squinting. “It reminds me of the day you died, father. Do you think the gods are revealing a sense of humor?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know who the joke will be on,” the platemail-wearing General replies. A burst of lightning draws his attention to the east, but he sees nothing more than smoke. “It seems another battle is going on over there. It could be the attack that this invasion is preventing the tribe from noticing. My suggestion is that we investigate the cliffs behind the castle.”

  “Given it’s the chaos elves, those explosions are probably Nyx and Queen Trinity,” Luke says, cringing when he sees a mountaintop crumble. From the sounds and quakes, he is fairly certain that the channelers are not holding back. “We’d only get killed or distract Nyx if we went over there. Let’s head to the real battle and . . . are you going to get involved or is this King Edric’s problem?”

  General Godric spits off the ridge and towers over the half-elf who refuses to back away. “I would never abandon my people when they need me. Edric did try to kill me and I don’t entirely trust the man even with his memories altered. Yet I will not let him fight alone when he does so for the same reason I do. The people of Serab don’t understand how important loyalty and honor is in the wilderness. If you betray one of us then you betray us all, but it is always possible to find forgiveness. You can stay here if you want, young man, but my daughter and I are heading into battle.”

  “I’m sorry for insulting your honor,” Luke states, his chocolate and gold eyes focusing on something within the mass of bodies. A blur of red catches his attention before three chaos elves are knocked above the rest of their army. “I only wondered if you wanted to remain behind to stay safe. From what you described, Timoran needs both of you to stay alive. As for me, I’m diving into that mess no matter what. My friends are down there and I don’t know what condition they’re in considering Edric’s men probably went after them too.”

  “Then it seems the three of us are marching. This will be interesting since most will only see me as the infamous phantom,” Tigris mutters, cocking her head to the side. A strong breeze coming off the battle carries the noise to her ears and she licks her lips while picking out some familiar voices. “I hear Cyrus is the new General and Edric is particip
ating like last time. Udelia is nowhere to be found, but that might only mean she’s being quiet and nobody is aware of her location. A lot of chatter about the Near Gods and the chaos elves are . . . fighting to return home?”

  “That’s amazing,” Luke says, his own senses straining from such a distance. “I knew barbarian ears were keen, but the battle has to be at least five miles away.”

  “My hearing has always been exceptional even among my people.”

  Curious about the chaos elves’ reasons for attacking, General Godric walks to the back of the ridge and strokes his beard while deep in thought. His knowledge of their mysterious enemy is no better than that of most people. They are a race of assassins and thieves that want nothing more than to cause harm to those who live in the light. In his youth, he had joined a sailing crew to see Shayd for himself, which turned out to be a blood-chilling sight. He remembers a storm that illuminated eerie creatures of the land and sea, all of which prevented them from reaching the craggy shore. The atmosphere was dismal and choking even from far away, so he could only imagine what living there would do to an entire race. Why anyone would wish to return to Shayd is beyond him, but the shadowy continent has been home to the chaos elves for their entire existence. It dawns on him that their enemies might be fighting for the same reason as his tribe and there is more to the situation than he realizes.

  “They fight to return home, which suggests they have been exiled,” the General says, noticing that Luke is nodding his head. A shriek is heard from where Nyx and Trinity are battling, the pair briefly rocketing into the sky before cutting through the clouds and crashing in the west. “I fear we are being used by someone. Be honest with me, young man, and explain why such a large force has been sent to Stonehelm. The chaos elves have never shown interest in our lands until you and your friends arrived. It is safe to assume that one or all of you are the real targets.”