Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) (33 page)

The rear line of chaos elves are about to advance on Sheriff Kalten when she roars, her blood-soaked face enough to make most of her enemies lose their courage. She only manages to take one forceful step since her main enemy is dead and the berserker rage is already fading away. Collapsing to her hands and knees, she waits for the invading warriors to swarm and attempt to finish her off. Instead, a burly form bashes through the chaos elves and skids to a stop while tender hands roll Udelia onto her back. She can see Dariana leaning over her while Cyrus rapidly swings his hammer at the approaching enemies, who cautiously remain beyond his deadly reach. The chaos elves’ fear is like a thick soup in the air that makes the fatally injured woman laugh with pride.

“I guess I won’t be talking to my father like I wanted,” Udelia whispers, pulling Dariana closer. Suffering from severe internal injuries, flecks of blood and bone chips spew from her throat every time she coughs. “I think this is atonement for my sins. All of what happened with Timoran is my fault. It was my job to investigate the accusations against him, but I let my emotions get the best of me. If I’d only done my job then I would have uncovered King Edric’s trickery and the damn trial never would have happened. Timoran could have come home without worry. My father might have even come out of hiding before today. Instead of repairing the damage, I acted like a stubborn child and held onto my hate. Tell Ti . . . my brother-in-law that I’m sorry. Make sure my father knows I’ve missed him all these years.”

“Kerr wants you to know that he will be claiming you immediately,” Dariana says, stroking the woman’s blood-caked hair. A sudden pulse from the opal warns her that Udelia will pass away at any moment, prompting her to prepare for a surge of energy. “He also wants me to honor you. Cyrus! Protect us while I do something. I only have a second to pull this off. Maybe not even that long.”

“What are you doing?” the sheriff weakly asks as the telepath puts cool fingers on her temples.

“Just relax and trust me.”

The women close their eyes and pick up on each other’s faint thoughts as death takes the barbarian. As soon as Udelia’s heart stops, the collar falls off Dariana and she reaches out with her full power. Before her ally’s mind fades into the ether, she copies all of the sheriff’s family memories and emotions. There is nothing to see, so the telepath is forced to work by touch and instinct alone. It is a scramble to grab everything while the mental world crumbles into psychic dust. The laugh of Kerr rumbles in the darkening sky as Dariana stores the sheriff’s thoughts in her own mind and awakens from her trance. She is surprised to see the Barbarian God standing at the mouth of the valley, his arm raised as another figure materializes before his palm.

“Not the honor I had in mind, but good job, Daughter of Purity,”
Kerr states before leaving with Udelia by his side.

“Is she gone?” Cyrus asks as the chaos elves charge.

“Yes, but I-”

Dariana’s words are cut off as something slams into the middle of the battlefield. The impact sends clouds of dust pouring through the valley and the earthquake knocks all of the combatants off their feet. Warriors from both armies are sent hurtling in every direction while chunks of rock tumble from the cliffs. Dariana and Cyrus try to withstand the shockwave that is rolling towards them, but they are sent flying back along with the rear guard of the chaos elves. The two defenders crash in a heap and struggle to see through the billowing cloud, but it is too thick to view anything other than the groaning soldiers of the fallen armies.

*****

Cut off from the other barbarians, Timoran battles his way through the thick sea of chaos elves. Cleaving multiple enemies with every swing, he carves a path toward the southern wall of the valley. Several weapons have found his flesh, but none of them have done more than shallow cuts and bruises on his skin. Scratching at his chest, the point of a sword is embedded in Timoran’s vest, the battered blade having broken as he twisted away. His knee is still adorned with a bloody splotch from when he caved in the swordsman’s chest. Fewer and fewer of the invaders are haphazardly attacking him, the newer challengers proving to be more cautious than their aggressive predecessors. It gives the champion time to breathe, but he realizes that it is also allowing him to calm down.

“Away from the wall!” shouts one of the crossbowmen from atop the wooden barrier.

Timoran and the surrounding chaos elves look up in time to see a boulder strike the wall and crash on top of another barbarian. Sensing that a new threat has appeared at the far end of the valley, the red-haired champion attempts to charge through the invading army. He does not get very far before three bleeding chaos elves tackle him around the ankles. Swinging and twisting as he falls, Timoran manages to kill an approaching enemy and stomp on the throat of one of his attackers. Leaving his weapon on the ground, he grabs the other two warriors who are gripping his legs and yanks them off their feet. Wielding the men like awkward clubs, he bludgeons every invader that is within reach. Once he is sure that the chaos elves in his hands are dead, he tosses the bodies into the crowd and dives for his great axe. The space he has made is steadily closing before he can stand and he finds several sharp weapons are already heading for his back.

A winged form crashes and skids across the ground, knocking down half of the warriors that surround Timoran and startling the rest. Her wing injured by a boulder, the griffin struggles to her feet and swipes at anyone who comes near. Feeling vulnerable, she transforms back into Luke, who is barely able to stay on his feet. The half-elf is covered in cuts, including a seeping gash across his forehead, and he walks with an obvious limp. Still unwilling to kill the desperate chaos elves, he settles for deflecting attacks and slashing at limbs. Whenever he disarms an opponent, Luke darts in to strike the side of their head with the dull side of his sabers.

“You are being too kind,” Timoran warns his friend as he shatters a spearman’s spine. With a tight turn, he beheads a pouncing, dagger-wielding woman and kicks the body into the side of the mountain. “This is not the place for compassion.”

“This isn’t the place for a conversation either,” Luke retorts, delivering a spinning kick to the face of a swordsman. He bites his lip in pain and hops away from the unconscious warrior, who is swiftly replaced by another. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t kill any of them. It happens when I have no choice, but I’m trying really hard not to. Be nice if they appreciated my efforts and decided to go away. How can this fight even end?”

“With the death of my tribe or the invaders.”

“What is taking Nyx so long with Trinity?”

“You speak as if she has it easier than us.”

Luke slices a chaos elf across the chest and drives a saber hilt into the woman’s jaw. “She might since she could clear this battlefield with a single spell. Now there’s some rock creature hurling boulders at Stonehelm. Dariana and Udelia are heading for it. Have you seen Godric or the King in this mess?”

“Both men are in the middle and fighting back to back,” Timoran reports, his height allowing him to see his leaders. He gets an odd sense of dread when he considers that the scene looks eerily familiar. “I am reminded of my last battle here. Though this seems much more difficult for some reason. We should push ahead and face the rock creature. If it destroys the wall then those who cannot fight will be in danger too.”

Timoran tries to barrel into the chaos elves with Luke a few steps behind him, but the cobalt-skinned warriors push forward. With daggers glinting in the sunlight, agile fighters leap off the shoulders of the front line and tackle the two champions. Luke flips one off him with his legs, but the pain in his ankle prevents him from standing. He rolls away from another diving warrior as Timoran crashes to the ground, the barbarian wrestling with several swordsmen. A thin blade pierces the half-elf’s shoulder from behind and pins him against a rock, preventing the champion from helping his friend. Blindly slashing backwards, Luke manages to cut his opponent and feels the pressure disappear. With the curved weapon sticking out of him, the forest tracker scrambles to his feet and tackles two of the chaos elves who are trying to kill Timoran. The pair of invaders fight back for a second before they feel sharpened metal plunge through their hearts.

“Guess I don’t have a choice anymore,” Luke mutters, yanking his sabers free. Removing the sword from his shoulder, the half-elf staggers forward and stops when he picks up a familiar scent on the breeze. “Or I can sit back and enjoy what’s about to happen. Say hello to the local phantom, everyone.”

A short spear flies out of the crowd and impales a chaos elf with enough force to send the body slamming into the mountainside. Three more warriors are killed by their unseen opponent, the corpses landing in a heap around Timoran. Many of the barbarians on the wall are pointing and shouting as they watch the glowing figure sprint toward the two champions. None of Stonehelm’s crossbowmen dare to shoot at the ghost since it appears to be on their side, but they cautiously switch the attention between the creature and the rock demon facing Udelia in the distance. A few of them cheer and hoot with glee as the invaders fall before the phantom, which sends glistening spears soaring through the air.

Seeing Tigris instead of the phantom, Timoran is surprised when his wife smashes through the wall of chaos elves. She knocks the remaining warriors off her husband with one of her spears and unleashes her fury on the more stubborn of her enemies. As Luke helps his stunned friend stand, their rescuer stabs and batters any opponents who come within reach. Whenever her weapon is about to break, she jumps back and hurls it hard enough to impale at least two of the tightly packed warriors. It is impossible for the cobalt-skinned army to get near Timoran and Luke as they fall in groups to Tigris. Several agonizing minutes pass before the chaos elves back away, leaving a ring of bodies around the barbarian woman.

“By the way, Timoran, I found your wife,” Luke whispers with a smirk. He leans against the mountain and groans, his sabers held loosely in his hands. “She’s the mystery witness that we heard about. There’s more, but it’s her story and I’m not feeling so good.”

“You are alive?” Timoran says as if his friend had not spoken. Reaching out with a blood-soaked hand, he strokes his wife’s cheek and runs his fingers to her chin. “This is turning into a strange day that I now fear is a dream. Though I find myself more willing to believe you are alive than your father.”

“Probably because you remember seeing his body and you merely overhead that I went missing,” Tigris states with a wry smile. A sound from behind makes her stab backwards, impaling a creeping chaos elf in the chest. “Nobody ever thought to look for me due to the Second Life’s enchantment, so they claimed I disappeared. You assumed it was death like the rock-brained fool you’ve been since childhood. You’re lucky I love you, Timoran, or I would have found someone else. You’d be none the wiser.”

“It is most certainly you,” her husband replies, chuckling even though his body aches from multiple cuts. His ears are ringing from a blow to the head, but he swears he can hear something coming closer to Stonehelm. “I have so many questions. Why has nobody else seemed to notice you? They are pointing and calling you a phantom.”

“All will be explained later.”

“Yes, our enemies are regaining their courage.”

“Not that it will help them,” Luke says while he runs for the wall. “Find some cover!”

Timoran and Tigris dive to the ground, the barbarians attempting to shield each other from the flaming streak heading for the battlefield. The object strikes the valley with a massive explosion that sends both armies flying against the mountainsides. A heavily damaged section of the wall collapses in upon itself, causing several guards to tumble to the ground below. Those closest to the mysterious crash are knocked unconscious immediately and covered in a thin layer of dirt. The warriors on the outskirts of the battle remain aware of movement in the thick cloud, but only one person is able to move and get closer to the crater.

*****

Lightning razes the cliffs, tornado-strength winds shred the clouds, and fireballs pound the mountainsides as the channelers battle. Using flight and jump enhancement spells to move, the two women unleash their full power throughout the wilderness. Animals take cover as the air ripples with so much magic that parts of the landscape appear to distort. The land shakes every time one of the combatants is struck by a spell and sent hurtling to the solid earth, their defensive spells popping and crackling during the high speed descent. Neither channeler knows how long they have been fighting, but they are starting to feel a crushing pressure on their bodies. Trinity flings acidic sweat off her brow, which Nyx dissolves with a gentle sigh that becomes a heat shield. The half-elf attempts to copy her opponent’s spell, but the spray is avoided by the chaos elf turning into mist. The collection of fiery droplets pepper a hill, leaving smoldering holes in the dark stone.

With tempers flaring and minds reaching a breaking point, the channelers grapple with each other as they rise high into the sky. An arctic blast drives them back toward the ground, neither of the combatants sure about who did the casting. The pair smash through several cliffs, which causes their magic shields to flicker and hum in distress. Sensing that something is wrong, Nyx and Trinity struggle to control their descent, but refuse to release their holds. At the last second, they push off one another and shove the last of their magic into defensive bubbles. Both women bounce and ricochet throughout the wilderness until they land among the jagged remains of a crumbled mountain. The channelers feel their auras become dormant as they stand and take gasping breaths, puff of sparkling air leaving their mouths.