Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) (8 page)

“Now nobody do anything foolish!” Cyrus shouts, holding his weapon above his head. With a slow stride, he steps in front of Timoran who stands with his head down. “This man does have much to answer for, but we don’t handle things like this. At least not since the old days and that was also when we chose mates by force. Needless to say, I don’t want to get punched by any of you lovely ladies in the crowd. Mostly because I’ve sparred with many here and all of you hit really, really hard. Let me take him to King Edric and Sheriff Kalten. We all know that is how this is supposed to work.” Sensing that his fellow barbarians are unwilling to budge, he points at Nyx and raises his voice. “Don’t make me unleash the Near God over there. I haven’t seen her in action, but I know that she has great power and is the exile’s battle sister.”

“You used that card rather quickly,” Timoran mutters under his breath.

“My jokes and charms were failing, so I panicked.”

All of the barbarians lower their weapons and move to the sides of the street, allowing two figures to pass through the mob. Bulky and of average height for ab arbarian, the man with a salt and pepper beard and bald head walks several steps behind his female companion. His snow tiger cloak falls off his shoulders and drags along the ground, the underside protected by flexible leather. King Edric stops at the edge of the crowd and adjusts his crown, which is a green jade circlet that grants him an air of regal humility. His steel gray eyes narrow when he sees for himself that Timoran has returned, but the fury is swiftly replaced by a deep serenity. Showing no sign of wanting to rush the arrest, he crosses his arms and casually runs his fingers through the end of his beard.

In contrast, the chainmail-wearing woman who shoves Cyrus out of her way has no trouble hiding her disgust and rage. With her hand on a massive broadsword, Sheriff Udelia Kalten moves behind Timoran and yanks his great axe off his back. The tall and muscular blonde warrior carries the tiger-striped weapon on her shoulder while circling the exile. She leans forward to sniff at the black fur vest and removes it when she senses that it is magical. Sure that Timoran no longer has anything dangerous beyond his fists, Udelia returns to the King and places the confiscated gear at his feet. Her blue eyes twinkle as she pulls out a yellowed scroll and prepares to read the declaration that she has held onto for several years.

“Timoran Wrath has been accused of treason, abandonment of his post, and the battlefield murder of General Godric,” the sheriff says in a voice that is both loud and soft. She pauses as all of the barbarians deliver one beat to their chest in honor of the fallen General. “King Edric notes that the first two charges are in direct connection with the third. This means that the murder accusation is where we will focus our attention. If found guilty of the central crime, Timoran will also be found guilty of treason and abandonment. As per our ancient laws, murder is punishable by public execution at the hands of either King Edric or a hand-picked royal agent to be decided upon at a later date. Until the time of his trial, Timoran Wrath will be incarcerated in the citadel’s prison and kept in solitary confinement. That is both for his safety and our own. Does the prisoner wish to come peacefully or resist?”

“I do not understand what is going on,” Timoran admits, looking to Cyrus for an explanation. All he receives is his friend subtly holding up one finger and casting a pleading look to not ask questions. “You mention a trial, but also a public execution. Would I not die in the trial like the old laws say? Is the public execution in case I win?”

Sheriff Kalten strides over to the red-headed warrior and punches him across the face. “You were given two choices! Do not say anything that fails to answer the questions that I ask. How do you want this to end, traitor?”

“I see you are still as lovely and vicious as ever, Udelia,” the champion states, accepting the next strike to his face. He fights the temptation to hit back, even though he sees that the woman still keeps part of her right side open when she swings. “I will go peacefully, but I do not understand what you are talking about. Cyrus told me that Stonehelm has changed since I ran away. Please tell me what events lie ahead of me, so that I may not cause you any unnecessary trouble.”

“You are accepting your fate?”

“Yes, Udelia, but I would prefer to do it without ignorance.”

“Should I answer the prisoner, King Edric?”

As if stirring from a gentle nap, the ruler shudders and approaches Timoran. He waves the sheriff to the side so that he can take in the sight of his former student, who has become an infamous traitor. There is a look of disappointment and shame in the older man’s eyes, but there is not a single tear that is ready to be shed. Edric sighs heavily and takes the manacles from his companion, the heavy iron clamping around the prisoner’s wrists with echoing clangs. Unable to look at the champion any longer, the tired King turns toward his people and walks toward the citadel. The crowd slowly disperses, leaving only a handful of curious citizens to watch the end of the unexpected encounter.

“Follow me or be dragged to your cell,” Udelia says, grabbing the chain between the manacles. The tall woman stops when she sees the other champions are standing in her path, all three of them unwilling to leave. “This is not your business. Get out of my way or I’ll have you exiled from Stonehelm. That Near God business is not going to scare me, so stop with the lightning on your fingers. You would hit your friend anyway. Now move!”

“We will once you tell us what’s going to happen to Timoran,” Luke states, stepping closer to the intimidating woman. He bounces a little on his toes in preparation for a fight, but prays that he does not have to battle the sheriff. “Our business here requires that he be with us, so we can’t move on until he’s free. These supposed crimes may be internal for you, but they affect our path as well. Just give us some information and we’ll step out of your way. What kind of trial does Timoran have to go through? Is it combat or a test?”

“It is a court trial in front of the judge and a panel of peers,” the blonde barbarian answers, which earns a confused look from the champions. She glances over her shoulder when Timoran raises his hands to scratch his head in thought. “You will not remember these rules, Wrath, because King Edric put them into place after you ran away. The days of trial by deadly combat are over. Now you are tested in a court and punished if found guilty. The system has actually reduced Stonehelm’s violent incidents to almost zero since it’s much easier to win a fight than a trial. Nobody wants to take the chance of losing a battle of words, so only the foolish risk their necks.”

Dariana eases Luke back and bows her head to Udelia, who smiles at the curious outsider’s manners. “I apologize for us getting in your way. Thank you for answering our questions. Can we be allowed to visit our friend? He never mentioned this part of his past to us and we would like him to give us an explanation in his own words. Cyrus may stand guard to make sure we don’t try anything underhanded.”

“Give me a few hours to lock him in,” the sheriff requests before snapping her fingers at Cyrus. He yawns and gradually stands at attention, smirking at the impatience on the woman’s face. “I guess you’re my deputy this time, Anghorn. Keep in mind that you will take Wrath’s place if anything goes wrong.”

Not waiting for a response, Udelia yanks on the manacle chain and drags Timoran along the main road. The prisoner tries his best to keep up with the sheriff, but she routinely tries to knock him off-balance, which would create another reason to punch. Cyrus walks a few steps behind them, waving to everyone that bothers to look in his direction. Unsure of where they can find rooms for their stay, the champions stand in the street and watch their friend disappear into the distance.

“Do we break him out and make a run for Aintaranurh?” Luke asks, bending down to pat the snow tiger cubs. A sharp whistle from a nearby building causes the animals to rush into the open door, which closes behind them. Through an open window, he can see the tiny animals being carried by three children whose mother is preparing bowls of milk. “This place is so strange, but I kind of like it. At least I would if we didn’t already have a mess on our hands. Why can’t we ever arrive at a city and have a few days of peace?”

“We wouldn’t get very far if we freed him. An army of barbarians would be waiting outside the temple, so we’d end up back in this spot,” Nyx replies while rubbing her chest. She looks down her shirt to see if the Compass Key tattoo is still there, the edges of the symbol having turned red. “Really wish Gabriel didn’t put this thing on me. It’s starting to itch. The skin around it is looking pretty raw too. I might have to find a low cut shirt or something to let it breathe, which is not something I’m looking forward to. Showing that much skin makes me feel exposed.”

Dariana massages her temples and turns in a circle, her mind drifting among the citizens in search of information. “There’s an inn a few streets over, which has two vacant rooms. Nobody here is angry or suspicious of us, but they are curious. They call Nyx a Near God and some of them recognize Luke. It would appear that the twin sabers, open courage, and being a half-elf make it easy to identify him. As for me, they like my hair and believe I have the poise of a warrior. All of that is good news for what we have to do.”

“And what is that?” Luke asks as Dariana walks away.

“First we have to get the truth out of Timoran and then we have to win a trial,” she casually replies without turning around. She abruptly slows down and sighs, her deep blue eyes gazing at the cloudless sky. “Unfortunately, this is something more suited for Delvin or Sari. I’m not very good at social interactions, Nyx is far too blunt, and Luke . . . I’m not sure how to explain why you’re a bad choice for diplomacy. I’m sorry, but your feelings may get hurt if I use the wrong words and come off as rude.”

“It’s because I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut,” he admits with a half-hearted smirk. Seeing a building with the sign of an inn, the forest tracker takes the lead and checks his money pouch to see how much he has. “The sooner we get the rooms, the sooner we can get to Timoran. We can’t make any detailed plans until we talk to him and meet with King Edric. All we have to do is be smart, calm, and patient.”

Nyx gives her best friend a big hug before awkwardly rubbing against him when her tattoo itches. “Sorry about that. I need to get this problem checked soon. Anyway, you’re right, little brother. We know where the temple is and Timoran already has prior knowledge of what could be inside. This will be the easiest one yet and there’s no rush. After losing Stephen and Trinity being indisposed, I’m sure the Baron is struggling to find a new agent.”

“You really don’t give my father enough credit,” Dariana whispers under her breath while watching her friends enter the building. She pretends to adjust the ties on her shirt while doing another scan of the entire city. “You’re definitely up to something, which is why I don’t want to leave until I know you aren’t behind this. The situation with Timoran is exactly what you would enjoy watching, father, so I’ll be ready for whatever you send our way.”

*****

“You summoned me, master?” Trinity drones as she takes a seat at the circular table.

The Baron gestures for her to enjoy the pheasant and cooked greens that are steaming on a plate in front of her chair. Candles float around the small bedroom, most of them staying away from Yola who has taken over the left hand wall. The slumbering immortal has crafted a canoe-shaped bed out of a long dresser and is using Raksha as a terrified pillow. The sharp furred cat pleadingly stares at her master and whips at the chocolate-colored window curtains with three razor-edged tails. Unable to get help from the warlord, the orange and black feline tries to wriggle free only to be fluffed into a bloated balloon. The creature’s bulging eyes continue to look around the room, fear making the pupils widen.

“It is bad enough that she turned Melanie into a rocking horse, which is something I still need to fix,” the Baron states before dabbing his mouth with a napkin. He pushes his empty plates to the center of the table where they sink into the wood. “I have decided on your exact orders, Queen Trinity. Again, I remind you that failure is not an option. You are not to return until you either finish this mission or die. Of course, I don’t expect your corpse to walk back, but I will have Yola retrieve your remains.”

“If I die then your grandchild will die too,” Trinity points out while picking at her meal. A heavenly scent rises from the roasted fowl, but she is too nauseous to attempt a bite. “Chaos elves give birth fairly quickly. Give me three to four months at most, so that I don’t have to put my baby in danger.”

“Our enemies may be done with their temples by then,” the stone-faced warlord says as he leans back in his chair. As he mutters an ancient spell, a cold wind whips over the table and freezes Trinity’s uneaten meal. “I am not in the mood for arguments or challenges to my authority. My grandchild will be fine. I have ways to revive the dead that are beyond your powers and understanding. So you should only worry about claiming victory and making sure your child will know its mother.”

Trinity rubs her belly to calm the baby who is kicking and squirming. “All you want is for me to kill Nyx, but she’ll have the advantage given my current condition. You’re turning this into a suicide mission and doing a bad job of hiding that fact. So unless you have another target or a better plan, I will wait until my baby is born. You might be angry at me, but I’m not about to do something reckless in order to satisfy your grief and rage. I suggest you use your remaining pawns wisely, Arthuru. Otherwise, you might find that you’ve run out of fodder before the champions even get to you.”