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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Wisdom was always your strength,” the white-haired barbarian whispers before turning to the crowd. He waves for Tigris and Timoran to join him, the pair muscling their way to the stairs. “Two wrongs must be righted! The Snow Tiger King must pay for his crimes, which he does not deny. He has requested a traditional fight to the death, which will be overseen by War Chieftain Wrath. So as Edric oversaw the trial of Timoran, now Timoran oversees the trial of Edric. I know many will offer to face this man, but there is another sin we must undo. Years ago, I should have remained dead. That is what the gods decided and I believe that it was wrong for me to return. The world feels . . . unnatural now that the sacrifices made on my behalf have been undone. This tells me that I should not be here. I was never meant to be here. My wish is to die in battle. So I will be the one to fight my old friend and return balance to our tribe. If I win then I will take the throne. If I lose then you will choose a new ruler while Edric is allowed to go into exile. Those are the rules of this trial.”

  Half of the mob is silent while the rest cheer happily at the prospect of seeing justice be done in the traditional way. The quiet citizens ponder the words of their beloved General, wondering if there is more to what he is saying. They notice the limp and how his face is not as vibrant as it was at the start of the public gathering. Unsure of the true reason for this death match between former friends, many of the people of Stonehelm consider that they will be watching an elaborate mercy kill. Although they are unsure who is the one that desires to meet his end. Within an hour, news of the trial has spread across the city and everyone heads for the valley with black armbands already in place.

  *****

  “Looks like I finally get some company,” Trinity says from inside her cell. Rising off her bed, she watches as Nyx limps to a chair. “How’s your eye? I like the cane. Gives you that classic old caster look.”

  Most of Trinity’s body is bandaged and she uses what little magic she has to help her walk and talk. Her broken jaw is tightly wrapped, so the chaos elf has her voice come from the stagnant air. There is a faint, violet glow within the cell and steam constantly rises from the top of her head to an anti-magic artifact. A pulsing diamond in the ceiling continues to leech most of her power, but the channeler knows she could easily destroyed the relic if she gets the desire to escape. Every time Trinity moves her arm, the connected shoulder pops and sends jolts of agony down her spine. Dragging a chair to the bars, the tired woman grunts as she lowers herself onto it and leans forward. She is only vaguely aware of her condition since she is more interested in the equally injured half-elf sitting in the hallway.

  “How’s your face?” Nyx retorts while scratching at the itchy wrappings that cover half of her head. She winces when she adjusts her suspended leg, the cast around her knee spotted with blood. “Your people are being tended to in the public jail, which is filled to capacity. Nobody is sure what to do about your dead, so the bodies are only being cleaned, preserved, and protected from scavengers. The shamans are praying for Ambrosine to give them peace, but that’s all they can think of doing. None of the other chaos elves are talking, which means we don’t know if there are any priests or priestesses among them.”

  “They’re broken and waiting to join the fallen,” Trinity replies, her low voice making it sound like she is talking from experience. Rubbing her belly, she quietly wonders where Sebave is with the unborn princess. “I told you what would happen if I lost. My people will be wiped out and that’s if they’re lucky. Most likely, the Baron will keep the youngest generation and raise them to be his obedient assassins. Our culture, history, and pride will be erased, which is pretty much the same thing as extinction. Honestly, it is probably worse. I’d rather we be destroyed than twisted forever.”

  “There has to be another way,” the champion insists, taking a drink of alcohol to keep her pulsing tattoo at bay. She tries her best to stop the reflexive shuddering since the jerky motions aggravate her injuries. “This is a conversation for another time. You should concern yourself with what will happen after a new king is chosen. Edric’s situation means you will have a few days before they make a decision. At least you’ll be fed and cared for until then. There’s already word that your people will be allowed to leave the jail in small groups for exercise once things settle down. You, on the other hand, aren’t being let out until the trial. Consider this cell your home for now.”

  “With you as my vigilant jailer?”

  “At least until I go with Timoran to Aintaranurh.”

  “I noticed the marking on your chest during our fight. A living Compass Key. Very ingenious.”

  “Annoying too. Damn thing tries to make me cause trouble, so I have to drink to keep it confused.”

  Trinity tries to smile, but the bandages around her face are too tight and her jaw aches from having been reset. It takes most of her energy to speak, her voice clearer now that she does not have to direct any magic toward her legs. She stretches her arm toward a bowl with a straw sticking out of it, the liquid meal the only thing she can keep down. Unable to create enough sucking pressure, she uses a wind spell to run the food up the tube and into her mouth. Trinity feels ridiculous eating like an infant, but her one attempt at solid foot resulted in her damaged stomach nearly rupturing.

  “Where do we stand with each other?” Nyx asks, stealing the question that was on her rival’s tongue. Shifting on the wooden chair, the half-elf curses as she nearly tumbles to the floor. “We came so close to killing each other out there, but I can’t say I hate you. This fight feels like it ended something because I just can’t see us going at it again. Almost like another battle would be a pointless waste of our time. Yet, we’re still on opposite sides of a conflict, which means it can happen again.”

  “I threatened your family and friends,” Trinity reminds the other woman. A laugh gets stuck in her throat and throws her into a violent coughing fit. “Can you really say that you no longer hate me after what I said?”

  The half-elf takes a long slurp of her drink and rubs her facial bandages. “At the time, I was furious and fought to protect my loved ones. Now that I’ve had time to think, I can’t figure out how you would accomplish any of what you planned. Dariana would sense you coming and that’s if my friends didn’t attack you immediately after you killed me. Timoran would be enraged and Luke would be livid, which makes them very formidable opponents. Sari, Delvin, and Fizzle being threatened made even less sense since they’re in the jungles. You wouldn’t go after a distant target because that would require abandoning your people at Stonehelm. Most of them have never been off Shayd and they’d be lost without you. So I don’t hate you because I believe you were lying in order to get me to kill you. A very convincing performance in the heat of the moment.”

  “Such a foolish champion. I was being completely honest, but your explanation does make a lot of sense,” the chaos elf replies, amused by her rival’s awkward compassion. She still remembers feeling the fury of her enemy as they slammed into the ground, the sensation making her battered back ache. “It won’t happen again. This was our last fight and you won. I can’t return to the Baron without being killed. Many of my people are still his slaves, but I’m nothing more than a failure who has been cast aside to rot. With my last chance at earning his favor destroyed, I’ve no more reason to fight you. Eventually, he will see what happened here and make good on his threat. That’s if he hasn’t done so already. I’m . . . nothing to you or anyone else here. Just a defeated foe awaiting her fate.”

  “Oh, Dariana noticed her father’s scrying right after the battle,” Nyx says with a chuckle that makes her ribs scream in pain. Unable to stop herself, she falls onto the floor and spends a minute feebly crawling back into the chair. “She’s altered the connection, so he thinks the two of us are still fighting. A lot of pauses, losing each other in the mountains, and simultaneous knockouts, which isn’t too far from the truth. Dariana is extending the display until she has the fake us create an explosion big enough
to destroy his spell. By the way, she also contacted all of your people who are scattered about Windemere. That way they don’t return to Shayd and get themselves killed. Many of them are traveling to Stonehelm as we speak.”

  Surprised by an outsider showing compassion toward her people, Trinity cannot stop a burning tear from slipping out of her eye. “Thank you, hero. I guess the two of us should get some rest. You have a temple to challenge and I have a trial to await. Please tell Cyrus that my people’s traditional funeral rites cannot be done here. Our deceased are always taken to the edge of Shayd and lowered onto a small boat that is sent to drift through ocean. This sets us free of the darkness and, we hope, allows us to find peace in the sun. We will have to find a way to preserve our dead until we can return to our homeland. That’s if the barbarians let us leave. I guess exile means we can make a pilgrimage to the northern coast to do it.”

  The creaking door at the end of the hallway causes Nyx to turn away from the prisoner, her mouth slightly open at what she sees. Trinity is unable to stand and get a better view of the entrance, so she patiently waits for the soft footsteps to get closer. She tenses when she sees Luke helping Sebave walk, the forest tracker dragging a chair with his other hand. The purple-haired priestess appears weak and tired, having been alone in the wilderness for the last two days. Her stomach twitches as the baby senses her mother’s presence and pushes her hands toward the cell. Shoving the chair to the table, Luke deftly catches the collapsing woman and gently carries her the rest of the way. Nyx transforms the uncomfortable seat into a plush couch that is so comfortable that the chaos elf nearly falls asleep.

  “I don’t know if this makes things more complicated or easier, but Cyrus told me to bring her here. She said her name is Sebave and that she carries Trinity’s unborn daughter,” Luke explains while returning to the doorway. The clanging of wheels can be heard and he comes back with a food-laden cart. “Believe it or not, I found her living with the snow tiger cubs and their mother. They were protecting her and sharing their food. Took a good hour to convince her new friends to let me take her to Stonehelm. All four of them may still be waiting outside the wall for all I know.”

  “Is all this food for me?” the priestess asks, examining the dishes that she has never seen before. Getting some syrup on her finger, she licks it off and stares with wonder at the little container. “I’m sorry that I did not come to Stonehelm sooner, your highness. With you being captured, I was unsure if you still wanted me to follow your orders to find Nyx. My job was to protect the baby, so I tried to avoid the barbarians in case they mistook me for an enemy. I don’t know where the beasts came from. They were around me when I woke up last night and gave me raw meat.”

  “That stuff goes on the pancakes,” Nyx mentions, stopping the confused woman from drinking the syrup. Seeing Sebave stare at the food, she realizes that the chaos elf needs a lot of help to avoid starving. “Don’t let the poor thing suffer, little brother. Sit down and give her a hand. So you transferred your child into this woman’s womb. I never even considered we’d be able to do something like that. Feels more like a holy spell or advanced necromancy. Can you take the baby back?”

  “Once I’m strong enough to cast the spell and handle the strain of pregnancy. The kid enjoys kicking,” Trinity answers, her mouth salivating at the sight of food that she cannot eat. She picks up her bowl and takes a few slurps, the straw making a loud noise when the liquid is gone. “It was an act of desperation and love, but I also sense that my daughter had something to do with its success. Even now, I can feel her trying to pull me towards her. Please do me a favor, Nyx. If not for me then for my people and my daughter who will one day lead the chaos elves. There’s a good chance that I will be executed after giving birth, so I want you to bring her to Rainbow Tower. I know she will be very powerful and I wish for her to help others. Perhaps my daughter will be the one to free my people and bring them into the sun, but I need to set her on the right path.”

  “This is also Stephen’s daughter and the Baron’s grandchild,” Luke points out, backing away from the three glares he receives. He feels the sensation of a tiny fist of force poking him in the side of the head, the feeling disappearing when he slaps at it. “I’m not saying the baby will be evil. Only that we might want to be careful choosing her teacher, especially since she’s most likely a channeler. Maybe it would be smarter to have her be trained by Casandra in Helgard. Of course, that’s after she remains in hiding for a while. Every location that is connected to us would be a bad idea as long as there’s a chance of the Baron getting free and coming to claim her as an agent.”

  Trinity smiles at the forest tracker, the motion loosening one of her bandages. “You really are smarter than people realize. The dim-wittedness is all an act to throw your enemies off-guard, right? There’s no way you’ve been acting the fool by accident for this long.”

  “No, he’s pretty stupid unless he focuses,” Nyx interjects with a smirk. The outline of a tiny foot against Sebave’s stomach draws the champion’s attention back to the child. “You’re a priestess of Ambrosine, right? Can’t you heal all of Trinity’s injuries and giver her back the baby? I can turn off the magic absorber. Not that it’s too much of an obstacle for someone like your Queen.”

  “I have the strength to heal her more severe injuries, but no more than that,” Sebave replies, not wanting to promise too much. Accepting Luke’s help, she stands and takes a shaky step forward. “I need to put my hands on you to make it work. Your daughter is preventing me from casting without physical contact. Just stand still, your highness, because this will hurt a lot. Bones being reset and flesh stitching together is always painful, which I am sorry for and promise will not last long.”

  Green and violet energy dances between Sebave’s fingers as she approaches the cell and chants the complicated healing spell. Trinity stands and puts her arm through the bars, so the priestess has a shorter distance to walk. At the last second, the captured channeler makes a fist and the diamond in the ceiling pops like a fragile bubble. Struggling against a full body itch and incredible pain, Trinity swings her arm to magically hurl Nyx into Sebave’s hands. The holy spell goes off and the champion is rocked by such intense agony that she cannot talk. Bandages unravel as her eye feels like it is about to burst and her damaged knee twists violently. With an echoing snap, her leg is repaired and she falls against the bars, a numbness overtaking her muscles. Nyx’s vision is no longer impaired as her eye becomes whole again, the repaired lid making a tiny click when she blinks it into place. A final burst of magic rejuvenates her exhausted aura, but she senses the blast is from someone other than Sebave.

  “Why did you do that?” Nyx asks, turning to see Trinity that has slumped to the floor. She uses her powers to levitate the woman into the nearby bed and tighten the loose bandages. “You need your strength to take your daughter back. I could have waited for one of the shamans to take care of me.”

  “Sebave can heal me tomorrow,” the Queen declares as her energy fades. A yawn cuts off her voice for several seconds and her visitors wonder if she has fallen asleep until words echo from the shadows. “You’re challenging another temple. A victory will bring you one step closer to facing the Baron and possibly freeing my people. Between the two of us, I think I can afford to remain injured for another day since I’m not as important to Windemere as you. Now let me sleep.”

  The metal bars bloat and merge to create a wall that blocks out the light from the hallway torches. Luke helps Sebave back to the couch where she quietly goes back to trying out every dish on the cart. Tenderly touching her bruised rib, Nyx remains sitting against the barrier and listens to the faint sound of snoring that drifts from the other side. It is a pain-filled wheeze that breaks only when the exhausted prisoner tosses and turns in restless slumber. Not wanting the chaos elf to get in trouble, the violet-eyed champion creates a tiny peephole in the wall to get a view of the ceiling. It takes a minute of concentration to create a perfect illusion of the d
estroyed diamond, which will stop the guards from installing a new one. Before the hole closes, muttered curses toward the Baron and Gabriel can be heard from the bed.

  “Just whose side are you on, Queen Trinity?” Nyx whispers before leaning against the bars and falling asleep.

  *****

  With Timoran standing in Stonehelm’s open gate, the two combatants get ready for their final battle. The wall and surrounding cliffs are covered by spectators, including the chaos elves who are each handcuffed to a guard or metal pole. Several men and women wander the crowds to hand out food and drink, but refuse to take any money. A few brief scuffles have broken out within the confused audience, each one stopped by Luke or Tigris. Like a pair of stalking cats, the two warriors roam the area to make sure nobody tries to interfere with the trial. The job becomes easier when they confiscate all weapons from the spectators, one or two having to be taken by a public show of force. Far at the other end of the valley, the remaining shamans sit with eyes closed and bodies covered in red symbols. They pray to Kerr in unison in order to bring the Barbarian God’s attention to the trial. Some in the crowd shout to their patron deity, but their words are those of anger and hatred toward their former ruler.

  Standing on opposite sides of the valley, King Edric and General Godric prepare for their battle. The disgraced ruler allows Cyrus to check his spear and tend to him, a position that he hopes will not harm the young man’s reputation. Wearing his battered armor, the older barbarian runs his thumb along the damaged areas and winces whenever he comes across a bruise that is still tender. There is a growing thrill in his heart along with a constant prayer that he will find redemption. A healing potion is handed to him to erase the last of his wounds, but he politely hands it back to Cyrus.

  “My opponent is weakened, so I will remain as I am,” Edric whispers, knowing several of the nearby barbarians can hear him. The cold stares threaten to send a chill along his spine, but he straightens his back to prevent the tremor. “Go back to the wall. You have done everything that is required of you. I hope that you continue leading your warriors with honor. When you see Tigris, please apologize to her for me. I led her sister down a dark path, which is another of my many crimes. Udelia deserved better.”