Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) (34 page)

“Is that all the strength you have, champion?” Trinity asks, tearing off the shredded sleeves of her shirt and approaching her enemy. Still weak from their magical duel, she fails to connect with a clumsy kick to the head. “Stop backing away and fight! There’s no chance of me walking away out of boredom or because this doesn’t feel right. One of us dies today and I swear to Ambrosine that it’s going to be you.”

“I can’t do this,” Nyx gasps, leaning away from another kick. Her vision blurs and she leans against a boulder until she can see straight again. “I understand that you and your people are being punished. Being exiled is horrible and I want to help. All I’m saying is that there has to be another way. Look at what we just did to the mountains. There has to be a way that the two of us can solve this without a fight to the death. How in all of Windemere can we lose if we work together?”

“Because my master is stronger than us, you idiot,” Trinity growls as she shakes her head clear of some stars. A cleansing breath helps her condition improve, but her magic refuses to work as she snaps her fingers for a spark. “For some reason, you and your friends made me go soft. I can’t even tell you when I changed. All I know is that before you champions showed up, I’d kill my master’s enemies without a second thought. Some I would even toy with and make them suffer. Not as horribly as Stephen, but I’ll admit to taking some pleasure from my little games. Now stop holding back and fight me.”

“I don’t have my magic either.”

“Then this is where you die.”

“You win because of your hand-to-hand training, right?”

“This is what you get for depending only on spells.”

Trinity swings her leg for an expert kick to Nyx’s side, but is surprised when the half-elf blocks it with her forearm. Caught off-balance, the chaos elf is unable to avoid the straight punch to her stomach. She falls to the ground and rolls away, hopping up to her feet with a kick in case her opponent is pursuing. Instead, Nyx remains several feet away and gently bounces on her toes while keeping her fists in front of her.

“Timoran has been giving me boxing and wrestling lessons,” the champion claims with a proud grin. She cracks all of her knuckles before standing still and shifting her weight for a more comfortable stance. “This isn’t going to be as easy as you think. So I’m going to let you decide on what we do.”

“Stop giving me chances!” Trinity roars before charging. She darts to the side to avoid a punch and leaps forward to savagely drive her knee it her rival’s gut. “There have been four times I left myself open in this fight. Every time, you refused to take the bait. I even saw you hesitate. You told me up there that you understood this fight and you would give it everything you have.” The chaos elf grabs the other woman by the chin and slams her against the nearest boulder, holding her against the warm stone. “There won’t be any more chances from me. I wanted you to give me a real fight and make my victory something to be proud of. Now it feels like I have to butcher a worthless, weak-willed child.”

“You would have done it already if you really wanted to,” Nyx claims, grabbing Trinity’s wrist and twisting out of the hold. She flips the chaos elf onto the ground and tries to straddle her, but the half-elf is kicked in the back with enough force to knock her away. “Even if you do kill me, my friends won’t let you live. Will your master bring you home immediately or will he make you walk back to Shayd?”

An evil smile is on Trinity’s face as she stands and wipes dirt off her hands. “Interesting question, but one that has made a decision for me. I know how I’ll get a real fight out of you. If you refuse to give me everything you have, I’ll kill you right here. Then I will scatter the remains of your friends across the mountains. Probably take my time with your little brother just to spite you. Though Dariana would have to be the first to die with a spell that removes her head. After finishing up here, I’ll go to the jungles to kill the other champions and that drite. Those three will never see me coming. I will raze Rainbow Tower to ground, burn your birth parents alive, melt that heiress in Bor’daruk, turn your friends in Gods’ Voice to stone, destroy every living thing in Helgard, and have the ocean swallow Nevra Coil whole. I swear to Ambrosine that every person you hold dear will be sent to the other side right behind you and I don’t care if my master gets angry. There will be nobody left to remember you. All because you decided to be weak and soft.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’ll enjoy every minute of it, especially when I tear Delvin’s heart from his chest. Might even kiss him while I do it.”

Nyx rushes at Trinity and catches the expected kick, locking the slender limb against her side. Before she can strike, an elbow awkwardly hits her in the head and the chaos elf jumps with her free leg. A knee slams into Nyx’s chin and she stumbles back, allowing her enemy to dart in and deliver a kick to the face. Falling to the ground, the champion gets her hands up to block a heel stomp to her chest and rolls to take Trinity’s other leg out from under her. Pouncing on the fallen woman, Nyx grabs her by the shirt and lifts her up enough to send her back down with a ringing headbutt.

“You’re nothing, but a savage brawler,” Trinity grunts as she swings her shin into her opponent’s groin. The chaos elf rolls away and handsprings up to her feet, pausing to attempt a spell that does not happen. “I can’t believe you call that fighting.”

“Knocked a few of your teeth out, so it worked,” Nyx replies while limping forward. She sidesteps another attack and catches Trinity by the back of the head. “You threatened my friends and family, so I’m giving you the fight that you want.”

Sprinting a few steps, she slams the chaos elf’s head into a boulder and rears back to do it again. Trinity spins around and locks Nyx’s arms against her chest before driving her heel into the half-elf’s knee. A loud snap causes the champion to gasp in pain, but it is not enough to stop her from gripping the other woman’s wrists and pivoting on her good leg. Trinity’s shoulder breaks when she hits the boulder and her hold loosens enough for her rival to get free. Nyx repeatedly punches the chaos elf in the face and side until two fists box her ears and she is violently kicked in the stomach. The half-elf falls against a chunk of smoking stone and stays there gasping for air.

Bloodied and bruised, the two women stare at each other while struggling to think of another attack. Trinity blinks to clear her vision and touches her shoulder, which aches even when caressed by the summer breeze. Nyx looks down at her knee where a shard of bone has punched through her skin and pants. The thought of the other channeler recovering first drives both of them to ignore the pain and continue their attacks. Able to move faster, Trinity delivers a kick that breaks one of Nyx’s ribs and flips to land another blow that cuts the half-elf across her right eye. Attempting a knee to the doubled over champion, the chaos elf finds her leg caught in a crushing grip. Lifting the surprised woman off the ground, Nyx uses the last of her injured knee’s strength to charge at the nearest boulder. With an echoing yell, she rams Trinity back first into the stone and collapses next to her groaning enemy.

With her good eye, Nyx stares at the coughing chaos elf and struggles to stand, her right fist already rising for a punch. A flicker of flame runs through her matted hair, so she tries to create a magical brace around her damaged knee. The crimson energy casts a light on Trinity, who is still fighting to awaken her dormant aura. When Nyx stands and coats her hand in fire, her cunning enemy lunges forward to touch the flickering spell. The chaos elf absorbs enough energy to restart her magic and grows whips from her fingernails. She lashes at the half-elf, who takes the first few blows before sending a fist of solidified air into Trinity’s chest. The strike knocks the chaos elf to the ground where she immediately gets on her hands and knees, the sensation of a shattered breast bone making her cough.

“To the death,” Trinity mutters while standing again. “It always had to come down to this.”

“I guess it did,” Nyx replies with no emotion in her voice.

Their auras erupting around them, the channelers collide and launch into the sky. They deliver punches and kicks to every opening they see as they careen over the mountains and head toward Stonehelm. Fire and lightning spiraling around them, the women slam into the battlefield and scatter both armies across the valley. Trinity hacks and coughs, the chaos elf having been grabbed by the throat and used as a shield by the champion. The severely injured channeler is unable to push Nyx off, so she creates an acidic blade on her left hand. A burning grip catches her by the wrist and stops the weapon from striking while a charge of electricity makes every muscle shudder. Losing her concentration, the green blade melts and the Queen of the Chaos Elves finds herself defenseless. Dragged to her knees, the defeated woman watches as Nyx lifts her hand to create an orb of fire laced with acid and lightning.

“Good luck with Arthuru,” Trinity says, her magic only able to flicker due to her severe injuries.

Nyx is about to release the deadly spell when a tiger-striped great axe smacks it out of her hand. The orb explodes against the cliffs, leaving a smoking crater that matches the one in the ground. Her adrenaline and rage fading, the half-elf stares in wonder at Timoran as she collapses to her knees. Nyx looks to Trinity, who is raggedly breathing while attempting to rise and avoid failing her people. The chaos elf releases sparks from her eyes, but her body is too injured to do anything more than bleed and ache.

“This fight is over,” Timoran whispers as he helps his friend to her feet. “Killing her like this is not your way.”

“You idiotic savage!” Trinity shrieks as her people come to her aid. Her arms draped over the shoulders of two warriors, her blossoming rage allows her to remain conscious. “None of us can go home unless I kill Nyx or she kills me. Anyone who tries, including myself, will be executed by my master. So let her finish me off like she agreed or get out of my way while I slit her throat. Unless you feel like doing either deed yourself. No matter your decision, a channeler is going to die within the next few minutes.”

“You and your people are captives,” the barbarian bluntly replies, turning his back on the furious Queen. Scanning the morose faces of the chaos elves, he can tell that they are no longer interested in continuing the battle. “We are not the types to kill those who cannot or will not fight back. Your defeat has put out the fire in your people’s eyes. I sensed their aggression die as soon as the dust cleared and you were revealed. Please allow yourself to be taken to our prison for medical attention.”

“Then I’ll just kill you first!”

Trinity grabs a dagger from one of her men’s belts and charges at Timoran, her aching body making her movements stiff. The barbarian is tossed aside by a gust of wind, leaving only Nyx in the chaos elf’s path. As the weapon sinks into the half-elf’s shoulder, Trinity is left open to a punch that hits her in the nose. Her fingers loosen on the hilt of the dagger and her violet eyes roll back, darkness pouring into her vision. Queen Trinity collapses to the trampled ground and is soon followed by her rival, the channelers bleeding and barely breathing.

15

The pouring rain batters the trio as they push through the jungle, their path barely visible among the thick plants. Delvin tries to use his shield to block the downpour, but the position gets his arm stuck in the vines that he hacks out of their way. Sari trails behind him, her eyes darting at every shadow that always turns out to be nothing more than a bird or insect. The gypsy wrings water from her hair instead of using her powers, which she fears can lead the cultists to their location. It has only been a day since their last encounter, the Judge Feeders showing no signs of giving up even after the massacre at the grotto. Against the stomach-twisting anxiety and paranoia, Sari puts on a fake smile whenever her companion glances over his shoulder. The storm hides the details and nuances of her body language, so she continues to avoid the conversation that Delvin has been attempting for days.

“Fizzle no like this,” the drite mutters, materializing between his friends. He spins to get the water off his wings, but is drenched as soon as he stops. “Need rest. Parts of path flooded. Fizzle find ruin. It has top. Should work.”

“I can only imagine what beasts are waiting inside,” Sari says while moving faster to get alongside the others. A snapping branch causes her to spin around with daggers in her hands and her chest heaving from terror. “Then again, I think I’d rather clear out a ruin than stay in a jungle that holds danger in every shadow. How far is it?”

“Fizzle get there in minute,” the purple dragon answers, scratching his head with his long tail. The rain is too strong for him to hover against, so he clings to Delvin’s chainmail and folds his crimson wings against his sides. “Not take long. Small path in ten steps. Take to place. No traps.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Delvin states, his voice faint and distant. His companions can tell that his mind is elsewhere, their silent stares drawing him back to reality. “Sorry, but I’ve just been distracted by a few mysteries. The whole area feels strange and something about our pursuers still isn’t sitting right with me. We can discuss this when we’re dry. Even if the place has holes in the roof, we took a tent off one of the cultists. Not a fan of looting bodies, but I don’t have the luxury of being noble this time. Lead the way, Fizzle.”

The drite tries his best to fly ahead of his friends, but his slow speed allows the water to bog down his wings again. Delvin holds out his shield to protect Fizzle from the elements, which puts a strain on his already aching muscles and joints. They have to stop several times to let him massage his shoulder until he hands the makeshift umbrella to Sari. The gypsy locks her arms in front of her as they push ahead, the ridiculousness of her appearance making her thankful that Nyx is not around to see her. Her nerves remain on edge and her head jerks toward every sound, which she knows is stressing Delvin. The warrior’s sighs are barely audible, but the worry in his tone is as clear as if he is talking. Sari is jolted from her thoughts when Fizzle whistles and lands on her shoulder to point at where the trees end. As they reach the edge of a clearing, she lets her arms drop and cringes when the shield hits her knees.

Surrounded by mushroom-covered stumps, the ancient building is only slightly taller than the trees of the jungle. Made from dark red stone, the ruin is topped by a rounded spire that resembles a closed flower. Vines cover much of the structure and the faces of statues can be seen poking through the natural curtain. Cracked bowls sit on pedestals that line the steep flight of stairs leading to the gaping doorway. Some of the decorations hold colorful wildflowers while others are empty, except for the thick webs of spiders. A cobblestone road has been covered in muddy water, which sloughs into a narrow groove that goes around the entire building. The remains of other statues can be seen throughout the clearing, but they have long since been toppled and broken. All that is left are cracked limbs or the occasional marble face sticking out of the dirt.

Lightning strikes the earth and thunder rumbles, causing the travelers to sprint along the flooded path. Risking the use of her powers, Sari runs along the top of the water while Delvin sloshes behind and waves for her to slow down. They take the crumbling stairs in twos as another bolt hits the top of the ruin, the electricity absorbed by metal veins that run along the stone structure. Desperate to get out of the storm, the trio burst into the building and are met by a wave of sweltering heat. They find themselves in a chamber where the gentle echoes of the rain hitting the roof bounce from corner to corner. A small dais is in the back with a large sconce built into the wall, a piece of moldy wood still set in the metal holder. Two wide stairwells are built into the floor, their shadowy entrances flanking the doorway. Bones and other signs of animals living in the ruin can be found in the unfurnished room, but the champions can only see a few snakes and a small tortoise. If there is a predator calling this building home then it is either downstairs or out on a hunt. Either way, the travelers are too tired to go searching for a new refuge.

“Gather some dry wood on the dais, Fizzle,” Delvin requests, peering into one of the dark stairwells. Squinting and straining his eyes, he thinks he sees a pile of wreckage blocking the path. “We should stay away from these in case something comes out. Staying by the dais means we can’t make a quick dash through the front door, but it gives us the most amount of time to see an enemy emerging from below. That’s if there’s anything to worry about.”

“Do you think the cultists use this place?” Sari asks, stepping further into the abandoned building. She crouches to wipe dirt away from an ornamental tile that depicts a picture of a grinning monkey. “We should check the walls for ancient writing. Places like this always have things like that. Seems like an old temple, so it might only be about a few of the gods that are worshipped around here. With any luck, this is nothing more than an abandoned Silvestris shrine.”

Delvin wanders over to the wall and parts some of the vines to examine the pictures etched into the stone. “I doubt our enemies are using this place. We would have run into them along the way or seen guards. This area is so strange. As I said, there’s something off about the Judge Feeders and the jungle. It just doesn’t make any sense. If they’re fighting to keep fae lines pure then where are the fairies? I’ve seen no sign of them. With such an organization, you would think the ones they’re protecting would be more plentiful.”

“Unless they’ve only just started in response to fairies becoming rare,” the gypsy suggests, squeezing more water from her hair. She is thankful that the heat in the temple is enough to help her dry off without using her powers. “I don’t understand why they’re going after people like me in the first place. Come to think of it, why are there so many fae-blooded here? There were enough to fill twelve boats and the gods only know how many times the Judge Feeders send a meal to their pets.”

“Where are animals?” Fizzle asks as he fills the sconce. Not wanting to start a fire without permission, he returns to Sari and walks alongside her. “No big beasts here. Bugs, small furries, and scaled ones only. Nothing loud too. Frogs and birds quiet. Yet still feel natural. Not sure why place like this.”

“It’s a war,” Delvin answers while tearing down more of the vines. He makes a pile of the dry plants to use as firewood and stops to pull some thorns out of his palm. “I remember forests getting like this whenever a conflict erupted in the area. Smaller creatures remain because they can hide while the bigger ones run until they feel safe. As usual, we walked into a mess that will probably connect to the prophecy in some fashion. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the Baron’s agents is behind the cult and the local fairies are connected to my temple. Given his remaining forces, I’d bet on Trinity being here.”

“Not everything has to do with us, Cunningham,” Sari says with a nervous laugh. The incredulous look she gets makes the gypsy roll her eyes and sigh. “Yet it always manages to come back to our destiny. There never seems to be any coincidences in our lives. At least not since this prophecy really started to move ahead. Just once I’d like to walk into a problem that doesn’t have our names written all over it.”

“Funny you should say it that way.”

Surrendering to the inevitable, Sari and Fizzle join Delvin as he finishes cleaning off a section of the wall. Neither of them can understand why the old engravings have the warrior’s interest until he points at a faint symbol near the top of the mural. Pulling the Compass Key out of his pouch, Delvin holds the relic in front of the identical marking. There are remnants of paint that match the color of the six gems and the central pearl of the picture is a piece of marble that has been fused to the dark red wall. Waves of light are shown coming off the artifact and embracing six landscapes. They recognize all of them as their temples, a weaving collection of tunnels easily singled out as the one for Dariana. Carved into the middle of the entire picture is a solitary figure on a throne with six skulls at its feet. A few traces of metal are near the seated person, possibly parts of a tiny sword that was once embedded in the wall.

“I really hope this doesn’t mean we’re destined to lose,” Sari whispers while tracing the mural with her fingers. Taking her hand away, she examines the layer of dust that is on her fingertips and half expects a dormant spell to go off. “So we have a temple that is about us, but not one of the real temples? I wonder if this was a Gabriel shrine long ago and his people abandoned it after the Great Cataclysm. It happened to other gods and goddesses. Durag even lost his original central temple to an earthquake when the continents shifted and the place got swallowed. Maybe the jungle did the same thing here, but left this section. I think I saw the edge of a cliff right behind this place.”

“A lot of guesses, but those are better than anything I have,” Delvin admits as he tucks the Compass Key away. The heat in the temple is making him drowsy, so he removes his chainmail and pointlessly wipes his brow with a damp sleeve. “Let’s assume that the cultists and fairies are part of our prophecy. One of those sides must be working for the Baron while the other is connected to my temple. It makes sense since you and the others had a group of people who maintained your power centers. You had the sea elves, Nyx had the Helgardians, and Luke had the ghosts. I really wish-”

“I know you want them here!” Sari shouts in exasperation. Storming away from the wall, she rubs her eyes and paces a wide circle out of frustration. “We both want our friends here. This entire adventure has been a disaster, which could have been avoided by any of the others being here. Every step has been a mistake, including us going psychotic on our enemies. There are serial killers who would have been kinder than we were in that grotto. Let’s face the truth, Cunningham. The three of us work terribly together.”

“Fizzle think we do good,” the drite interjects with a pout. His stomach rumbles and he glances outside, the storm still raging. “Need food. Lightning not hit Fizzle. Go get fruit. That not bad idea?”

“Thanks for always making sure we don’t starve, Fizzle,” Delvin replies, tickling the tiny dragon’s chin. He watches as the gypsy heads for the dais and tries to start a fire, her flint and steel feebly sparking. “Don’t take what she said to heart. Sari’s upset and scared because the Judge Feeders are after her more than the rest of us. Though I can’t argue with her about this adventure being a disaster. We’ve stumbled onto a cult and been hunted ever since we came ashore. That guy at the dock must have identified Sari as naiad-blooded, which makes me doubt there was ever a forgiver. They could have all been executioners and simply played up the false title to trick victims into boarding the boats. By the gods, I wonder how many of those prisoners were only vaguely fae-blooded and had no idea why they were being sent down the river. None of them showed powers like Sari, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were never told of their true bloodline. That means these cultists are able to find targets with dormant or non-existent powers.”

“Fizzle’s head hurt.”

“Mine too and everything is guesswork.”

“Answer be at temple.”

Delvin glances at the ancient mural, his eyes focusing on the plateau with thick jungle at its base. “The trick is getting there alive.”

*****

The storm continues long into the night without wavering, the lightning streaking over the jungle outside. Sari sits on the stairs of the dais and stares at the entrance above which Fizzle is sleeping in a thick nest of vines. The gypsy picks seeds out of the fruit that the drite has brought back, the bitter slivers having a habit of getting stuck between her teeth. She nibbles at the sweet flesh of the food while waiting for another burst of lightning to make her surroundings appear eerie and isolated. A green boa slithers out of the shadows and stops its hunting to look at Sari, who prepares to clamber back up the dais if it gets too close. Confident that she is not a threat, the serpent continues toward the wall where it disappears among the vines.

“At least the bats left,” Delvin mentions, taking a seat next to the young woman. He has a bite of his fruit and shudders at the seeds’ horrible taste. “If I wasn’t so hungry and impatient, I’d probably be copying you. Do we have any of those berries left? I need to get the bitterness out of my mouth.”

“Fizzle ate the last of them,” Sari replies, blindly grabbing a cup of rainwater. She takes a flask out of her pocket and puts a drop into the glass to give the liquid a beautiful shine. “Drink this. It’s not very potent, but it should cleanse your palate. Maybe we can find a pool of fae water when we leave. I’m almost out and it’s been keeping me cool.”

“You sure drink a lot of this stuff,” the warrior says, accepting the cup. A twinge of mild sweetness cleanses his tongue and makes him feel lightheaded. “In fact, you’ve been having more and more fae water as time goes on. I’m wondering if it has to do with your powers growing. Though it could also be that the fae water is making you stronger.”