Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) (30 page)

The courtroom remains silent as the gathered War Chieftains watch their leader and do their best not to yawn. None of the hardened warriors fully understand why Edric demanded that the doors and windows be sealed. They assume it is to prevent the rest of the citizenry from spying on the verdicts and breaking into another riot. It took hours to get Stonehelm under control after Dariana’s accusation, but the tension and confusion is still lurking beneath the surface. With only a handful of people knowing the final decision, it gives them time to prepare their soldiers to quell any violent disturbances. For now, the War Chieftains are trusting their men to maintain the fragile peace outside of the courthouse and hope that their trusted leader does not draw this meeting out for very long. Their minds are so busy thinking of ways to repair the damage to the King’s reputation that they are surprised when Dariana steps forward.

“I accept your verdict, but I still request that you examine King Melich’s tomb,” the champion says as Udelia grabs her by the arm. Dariana slips from the barbarian’s loose grasp and continues walking toward Edric, her manacled hands behind her back. “I assure you that Kerr will understand your actions. It is the only way to prove beyond all doubt that you didn’t steal the crown. With that rumor defeated, nobody will think you failed in Aintaranurh. Your kingship will be secured without question. By not doing this, you leave yourself open to whispered accusations that will continue to undermine your authority. By agreeing to my request, it will show you to be a cautious and confident ruler.”

“And I will be known as the first man to desecrate the royal graveyard,” Edric states, the words practically spit from his mouth. The arms of his chair creak as he grips them, his anger nearly breaking his self-control. “This is not open for debate. If anyone is caught attempting to check the tomb then they will be executed on the spot. I loathe using such threats, but I will not have your lies destabilize my tribe any further. We nearly fell apart in the wake of losing General Godric and King Melich. I rose up to claim the throne even though I would have preferred to remain as a teacher and advisor. The sacrifices I have made for my people will not be undone by an outsider who would do anything to save a traitor.”

The Snow Tiger King grinds his teeth and feels his mouth go dry when the champion continues her quiet approach. Her face an emotionless mask, Dariana stops at the ruler’s feet and snaps her handcuffs with a flex of her wrists. With only a fraction of her power seeping through the necklace, one of her bones breaks and she nearly collapses from the shock. She cradles the damaged limb and struggles against the enchanted collar to set the injury. All she accomplishes is giving herself a headache and nosebleed, so she lets the arm hang limp at her side while she ignores the pain.

“I want to save a friend and would do almost anything to accomplish that goal,” Dariana says, refusing to look away from the scowling ruler. Sweat is on his brow, so she takes a single step away to make him understand that she will not attack. “That doesn’t include driving his people into anarchy and hurting the homeland that I know he loves. Timoran would never forgive me and I don’t have enough friends to risk losing any of them. All I am suggesting is that you work to remove all doubt from among your people. This isn’t being said as your enemy, but as someone who believes you to be a good man. Infected with fear due to recent events, but still good of heart. I’m sorry, but if I knew of any other way to solve the problem that I caused then I would reveal it immediately.”

“We could ask the shamans,” Udelia interjects, stepping forward and putting fresh restraints on the telepath. Minding the injured wrist, she drags the woman back and forces her to sit. “They may be able to talk to King Melich’s spirit and ask him to check his own body. Even if it fails or you’re denied, the attempt will help your reputation.”

“I will take that under consideration,” the ruler claims, though his voice hints that he is done with the argument. Satisfied that the discussion is over, he steeples his fingers and nods to his War Chieftains. “Now we come to the criminal whose actions have plagued our tribe for many years. They have left festering scars that we can finally cleanse. All of you will bear witness to his fate.”

King Edric leans back in his chair and turns to Timoran, the red-haired barbarian continuing to stare ahead. The calm expression on the prisoner’s face makes the older man angry and guilt-ridden, which catches him by surprise. Whenever he attempts to focus on the source of the emotions, he hits a mental wall and feels a pulse of discomfort. Deciding on the simplest answer, Edric assumes the sensation is because the warrior killed his best friend. Yet there is a nagging shard of doubt in his mind that he cannot shake. It is frustrating since he has spent years knowing that this exile is guilty and must be punished. Now with the most hated man of the Snow Tiger Tribe standing before him, the wise ruler finds that he is not so sure of what he saw on the battlefield. Suddenly, the entire event feels like a dream with only scraps of truth mixed with possible lies. Straightening his back and taking a cleansing breath, he rids himself of the confusing thoughts and prepares to bring peace to General Godric.

“Timoran Wrath is unquestionably guilty of abandoning his post,” Edric begins, aiming to build up steam as he chooses his words carefully. He takes strength from the War Chieftains paying close attention to the verdict, all of them leaning forward. “By this fact, he is also guilty of treason. The real question is if there is enough evidence to clear Timoran of the battlefield murder charge. Dariana did not make a suitable case on his behalf and settled for trying to undermine my reputation. I have found that a person only does such a thing when they are knowingly defending a criminal. Furthermore, these actions nullified the jury, who joined in the ensuing riot and have shown they are more interested in my fate than that of the accused. Due to their removal, the final decision comes down to me. With that being said, I find Timoran Wrath guilty of the murder of General Godric and he is to be executed in the morning. He will be given a final meal and his friends will be allowed to say their farewells. If he wishes to speak to a shaman and ask Kerr for forgiveness then one will be sent to his cell.”

“This wasn’t even a real trial!” Dariana shouts, leaping to her feet and ducking under Udelia’s attempted grab. Slowed down by the pain throbbing through her arm, the champion is easily caught by the collar of her shirt. “Every piece of evidence was flimsy and revolved around people only seeing Timoran standing near the body. Nobody ever saw him commit the murder, so you’re condemning him over conjecture. Admit that there was never any other way that this could have ended as long as you presided over it. How can you say you have honor when you have put on such a blatant farce of a trial?”

“Hold your tongue or you will be executed alongside your friend,” King Edric warns the champion. Reaching behind his chair, he draws a winged spear and settles the weapon on his shoulder. “I do not want to be a cruel ruler, but both of you are threatening the foundation of this tribe. You are not one us, Dariana, so exile is what I chose for your punishment. Be thankful that I am letting you leave with your belongings because the ancient traditions would see me send you naked into the wilderness. Now as one of our people, Timoran can only be dealt with through execution. That is unless he decides to renounce his blood and claim to no longer be a member of the tribe. Only then will I be willing to consider giving him the same punishment as you. Does he wish for this path?”

“I was born of this tribe and that is how I will die,” Timoran declares, facing the Snow Tiger King for the first time in days. The air in the courthouse becomes thick with tension as the two men lock defiant stares and growl at each other. “If this is your decision then I cannot change it, King Edric. I will point out that you are putting many innocent people in danger by sentencing me to death. The gods have given me a higher purpose and my friends need me to be by their side. You may claim that I am offending Kerr by rejecting your offer, but I know he would be furious if I agreed. He has made it known to me that I am to never show weakness, which is what you are asking of me.”

“You’ve heard rumors of the champions, right?” Dariana asks while facing the War Chieftains, who remain stone-faced and silent. Muttering a curse, the powerless telepath wishes she could implant the information into their minds. “A great evil will arise from history’s shadow and Timoran is one of the warriors chosen to stand in its way. It’s possible that him being framed for the death of General Godric was part of Gabriel’s plan to get him out of Stonehelm. If Timoran hadn’t left then he’d never have met Luke and Nyx in Hero’s Gate. He wouldn’t have been there when they returned at a later date either. Those events are what put him on the path of his destiny. Please see that this is a small part of a greater event and killing this man will destroy the Tri-God’s work.”

“If it truly is destiny then something will save him from being executed,” Edric retorts even though he is wise enough to know the world does not work that way. The disapproving look from the sheriff causes his thoughts to falter and he slumps in his chair. “Free will is part of Windemere’s beautiful tapestry and it is more delicate than destiny. Every choice holds a negative reaction for someone. If a man decides to steal a loaf of bread then someone else will have to go without. In this case, my path would be damaged if I was to release Timoran in the name of this supposed destiny. I will argue that there were many ways for him to meet the rest of you, but he chose the one that started with killing my friend. Such an act does not suit a champion who will save the innocent. Perhaps he is a tainted chosen and the only way for you to succeed is to cull him from your ranks. I assume that if a new hero is needed, one will rise at the proper time. It could even be Sheriff Kalten or Cyrus or anyone within this city if a member of this tribe is required.”

“That is not how Gabriel’s plans work.”

“Then let him appear and stay my hand.”

“You know the gods can’t do that.”

“In that case, I ask for them to send me a sign that this should not be done.”

Udelia tackles Dariana to the side as the ceiling cracks and collapses into the building, chunks of stone splintering the benches. One of the slower War Chieftains is trapped beneath the rubble, his massive hand flailing for assistance. Having jumped to the same side of the room, Timoran and Edric find themselves standing next to each other, but their attention is on the groaning figure rising from the dust. A burst of wind clears the air and reveals Nyx, fire rolling around her arms like enraged serpents. Without a gesture or word, the channeler magically hurls the debris off the trapped War Chieftain and sends her flames through the broken roof. They explode against an incoming swarm of spells and the eruption creates a rain of sparkling embers that bathes the entire city. Not wasting any time, Nyx hurtles back into the sky where she is slammed into by another form. A few seconds pass before the stunned witnesses here a distant boom that reminds them of a giant’s footstep.

“We will finish this later, your highness,” Udelia says as she frees Dariana from the handcuffs. As the War Chieftains rush the exit, the sheriff tosses her keys to the lone guard and climbs over the wreckage to be closer to the King. “I know you’ve waited years for this moment, but Stonehelm needs all of us. Perhaps the gods were listening and will pass their judgement on the battlefield. After all, the three of us carry sins that have long since required atonement. So forget your pride and-”

Edric raises his hand to stop Udelia from talking and reaches out to break Timoran’s restraints with his bare hands. “The voices of our people are calling to me. I hear spells and the mention of chaos elves. Queen Trinity herself is here to do battle and her reputation is one of power and ferocity. I also find her timing suspicious and believe it has something to do with our guests. You have been slated for execution, Timoran Wrath, but you are still a member of this tribe. The decision is up to you. Are you willing to fight for us?”

“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 imagine 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.