Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) (43 page)

“It is not your fault,” Timoran says as he fixes his vest. He tightens his bracers and runs his hand along the face of his tiger-striped axe. “He is an infestation that must be purged. It is only right that he be destroyed by the hand of the new king.”

“You aren’t worthy of my crown!”

“And you are not worthy of my temple!”

The barbarians charge while Timoran focuses on the movements of his enemy’s arms. He puts his axe up to block what he thinks is a slash, but the invisible attack still skims across his chest. It leaves a cut beneath the undamaged Ifrit fur vest, the wound burning and stealing Timoran’s breath for a gut-wrenching second. Attempting his own strike, the champion’s weapon harmlessly passes through the spectral ruler. With an amused laugh, Wodan kicks the warrior in the stomach and sends him crashing against a thick spire. Feeling the breeze of an incoming swing, the red-haired barbarian ducks and rolls away, stopping in a crouch to leap back at his enemy. Another slash at the ghost’s legs does nothing and Timoran takes a punch to the face, which drives him to the floor. He is about to stand when a tight grip catches his throat and hurls him to the other side of the chamber. Spinning through the air, the champion bounces off a crystal support pillar and crashes to the ground with a dull thud. The spectral Snow Tiger King laughs and revels in the applause from several of the other rulers.

“This is why you will never rule my tribe,” Wodan declares, remaining by the torch. A look of disgust is on his face when he sees that Timoran is not getting up. “I weep for the future of our people. A tribe of conquerors turned into philosophers and limp-wristed soldiers. All of us who held the throne in the old days should rise up and retake our homeland. With the power of Aintaranurh and these three champions, we can finish what I started.”

With a ringing in his ears and blood dripping into his eyes, Timoran can barely make out the ranting specter’s words. He staggers to his feet and leans against the cracked spire to see that his enemy is rallying the others. The face of Nyx briefly appears next to him, but it only makes him feel ashamed and worthless. For all of his life, Timoran has believed that his tribe is one bound by honor and a desire for peace. Now he has learned that their origin is that of a warmongering pack seeking to conquer the world. All of his culture’s traditions flood into his mind and he picks out their connections to locating the other temples and crushing the weak, which makes his rage burn. Even with a blistering fury in his chest, the champion finds that he cannot return to the battle.

“Why am I unable to hit him?” Timoran asks, hoping the answer will come to him.

“Because you are not really trying,” whispers a familiar voice. Edric materializes before his former student and adjusts his crown, the ghostly circlet now showing a jagged crack down the middle. “Wodan is a relic. He believes the title makes the man and the Snow Tiger King’s role is only about conquest. The two of us know that it is the man who makes the title. You and Tigris are our tribe’s new leaders, which means our people’s reputation is on your shoulders. So act like your true self and bring honor to our people like you always do. Will you be an enraged bear or a cunning snow tiger, King Wrath?”

Seeing that Wodan is watching them, the dizzy champion admits, “I do not understand. I need my rage and I am trying not to let it overcome my common sense. That is how I always fight.”

“I truly failed you as a teacher,” the disgraced ruler groans, hurling a spectral spear to stop the other ghosts from coming closer. The weapon strikes the ground and explodes into a shower of shards that drives them back. “It is simple. Keep a clear mind and channel your rage. You already realized one aspect of the power that flows through the ring. If you want to destroy something then you will do it, which is all well and good. Yet, why does your motivation always have to be destruction? Consider the idea that if you want to protect someone then you will do it with the same amount of fervor. As long as you are determined and keep your honor pure, no obstacle will stand in your way.”

Timoran glances at the Ring of Aintaranurh and remembers how it made him feel, the sensation swiftly returning. With a battle cry that shatters some of the more fragile crystals, the champion rushes at his enemy and lets his rage flow through his muscles. Instead of focusing on defeating his enemy, all he wants to do is save his friends and bring honor to his tribe. Even more so, Timoran wishes to erase the stain on his people’s history and put the first Snow Tiger King to rest for eternity. The ghost’s double-headed axe materializes as the champion’s senses become even more acute thanks to the ring channeling his fury.

“A mewling scream will not scare me,” Wodan growls before he notices that his supporters are gradually dispelling. By the time Timoran gets within reach, only the more recent rulers who pushed for peace remain in the chamber. “I see how it is. My tribe is plagued by traitors and pacifists. None of you would have held power without me. Do you want our people to merely survive or to make history?”

The tiger-striped great axe shatters Wodan’s weapon and comes back around to strike the surprised ghost in the head. The blow sends the original Snow Tiger King stumbling away, but his beard is grabbed by the focused champion. A burst of light from the Ring of Aintaranurh is barely noticed by Timoran as he yanks his enemy forward and lifts his weapon for a body-cleaving attack. Wanting to give the final blow more spectators, Fortunatos restores the other champions’ auras and frees them from their cocoons, earning a look of bewilderment from the terrified specter. A mischievous smirk is on the Jester’s face as he waggles his fingers and blows a kiss to the arrogant guest who nearly ended his existence. The wide-eyed expression is still on Wodan’s face as Timoran’s great axe comes down to put a shattering end to the Snow Tiger Tribe’s mad founder.

19

With every citizen of Stonehelm standing in front of the dais, Timoran and Tigris bow their heads before Fortunatos. The Jester is excited to be outside of Aintaranurh and no longer under the threat of fading away, so it requires the urgent whistling of the impatient crowd to refocus his attention. With a flourish, a pair of crystal circlets are drawn from his sleeves and placed upon the heads of the new rulers. He frowns at the simple appearance and adds tiger teeth to Timoran’s crown, the pointy decoration curving out from the top. Fortunatos puts a dangling diamond chain on Tigris’s circlet, which she snaps off and politely hands back to the colorful guardian. Shrugging, he tucks the gem into his pocket and turns to the face the quiet citizens of Stonehelm. A deep breath balloons his chest, earning a chorus of laughter from the children that have been following the Jester since he arrived in the morning.

“Thank you for allowing this lonely, powerful, handsome, and not in any way humble stranger to stay with you,” Fortunatos announces while floating over to an empty chair. He bows and extends his neck to put his forehead against the ground. “It has been too long since I enjoyed the wind and sun. Even longer since I had real friends and now I have an entire tribe to call home. Possibly two if things go well. So it’s a great honor to introduce the Snow Tiger King and Queen of Stonehelm, Timoran and Tigris Wrath. For those remembering that this was already announced, I’d like to point out that it’s official now. No gnawing on the details. Just clap and cheer.”

With a roar, the crowd lifts their weapons into the air, including the children who have been given toy axes and swords. The new rulers smile and wave, neither of them entirely sure what they are supposed to do now that they wear the crowns. So much has happened within the last few days that they feel overwhelmed and want nothing more than to retire to their chambers. The thought of the two of them having a meal together after years of being apart makes Timoran and Tigris swiftly grow impatient with the celebration. Yet they remain calm because there is one very important piece of business that must be settled.

A nod of the head is all Cyrus and Luke need before they signal for Dariana to open the door to the jail. The barbarians quiet down when they see the chaos elves being escorted out by the guards and gathered in a penned off area. Seeing their former enemies disarmed and in simple clothes, many in the crowd wonder why they ever had trouble winning the battle. After five minutes have passed and the prisoners are still marching out of the prison, the people of Stonehelm realize how much danger they were in. It is a realization that puts them on edge and causes many to wonder if it is safe to keep the chaos elves alive.

“My first act as your King is to bring justice to Queen Trinity and her people,” Timoran declares, his voice booming over the sound of marching feet. He takes his wife’s hand to steady his nerves and lets her squeeze his fingers whenever his voice falters. “I am more warrior than diplomat, so I do not know how to sway your hearts and minds. These people attacked us and killed members of the tribe. One would think the situation is fairly straightforward, but I have learned that it is not the case. Queen Trinity has asked that she be the only one punished and the rest of her people be allowed to leave in peace. After consulting with General Anghorn and Queen Wrath, we agreed to these terms and made our own request. To kill a beloved ruler without a trial will only turn our two peoples into enemies. I have asked Queen Trinity to stand before us and reveal the truth behind the chaos elves’ activities and history. In my time away, I have learned that there is more to them than anyone has realized. Yet I feel she can explain it better than I. After all, I already feel like I am about to repeat myself and ramble into gibberish. Bring out the accused!”

Escorted by Sebave and Nyx, Trinity slowly makes her way out of the jail. Her people make a path and reach out to touch their ruler while whispering words of encouragement. At first, the barbarians assume the gradual approach is out of fear and she is trying to figure out a way to escape. So they are surprised to see that she is pregnant and having trouble walking thanks to a very active baby. A flood of questions rise to meet Trinity as Cyrus lifts her over the gate and hands her to Luke, the General turning to assist the other two women. Sensing the rising confusion, Tigris draws one of her spears and holds it above her head to get the mob to calm down. It is more the confident smile on the chaos elf’s face that silences their tongues and draws their attention. Stepping into a hastily erected witness stand, Trinity faces the barbarians and tries her best to get comfortable on the rough stool.

“There are a lot of formalities and declarations that are supposed to be done during these things,” Timoran says, pulling a handful of papers out of his vest pocket. With a smirk, he hands them to Cyrus and shrugs while wiping his ink-stained hands on his pants. “We all know what happened, so there is no reason to tell the tale again. It is more important that we know what drove the chaos elves to attack us. Was it only about two Near Gods having their final battle or was something else behind their actions? After all, everyone here must have thought it strange that we were challenged by an army we had never interacted with before. Many have heard that our enemies were driven from their home and they could only return with our defeat. That is true, but it is not all of the story. I want us to pass judgement with no doubts or lingering questions. To that end, I give the floor to Queen Trinity. Any who show disrespect or try to attack her will find themselves at the wrong end of my axe.”

“That’s it?” the chaos elf hisses to Timoran. The stone-faced stares are making her nervous and she notices many in the audience are clutching their weapons. “I thought you were going to soften them up for me. Talk about our past or how I was sometimes on your side. I stopped General Vile from killing you in Gaia. Remember that?”

“I do, which is another reason I am giving you this chance,” the barbarian replies through clenched teeth. “I cannot appear any more biased than I already do by giving you this chance and admitting to having doubts. Just tell them the truth.”

Trinity takes a deep breath and rubs her belly, the faint kicks of her daughter making her hand visibly jump. “I don’t really know what to say here. My people and I were told by our master to kill Nyx and destroy Stonehelm. We left our children, elders, and other loved ones behind. If we failed then we could never return to Shayd. Any who step foot on our homeland will be killed, which is a threat that extends even to me. My master is the same monster that your king is destined to fight, so he has been my enemy for a while. Baron Arthuru Kernaghan is the reason the chaos elves are what they are today. We were malicious pranksters and thieves before the Great Cataclysm brought him to our kingdom. It was he who turned us into the assassins and spies that the rest of Windemere fears. The truth is that you have no idea what we really are. My people are slaves who are forced to mine for gems under the whips of demons. Our children are put to work at the age of five and barely educated. Sometimes they are even killed for sport by the monsters that lord over them. It was actually worse before I took the throne and did whatever I could to protect my people.”

“Then why didn’t you leave?” asks a child from the crowd.

“Because Shayd is our home and we have nowhere else to go,” the channeler replies, smiling at the dirt-marked boy cowering behind his mother’s leg. Wiping a tear from her eye, she rolls her tongue in her mouth while regaining her composure. “Imagine if a being that even the gods feared appeared in Stonehelm and conquered you. This being twists your culture and reputation while breaking your spirit over the course of short-lived generations. Before you know what is happening, the rest of Windemere sees you as monsters. The only way to survive in the outside world is to hide what you are or remain isolated in the wilderness. It means that your choices are to suffer until things change or run away from your homeland, which you may never see again. I believe the chaos elves made the choice that your tribe would have made in our situation. I never regretted staying on Shayd and neither has my people. All we want now is to have our home back.”

“Why didn’t you fight this dark master?” Dariana asks from the edge of the mob. She hides her smile when Trinity turns an incredulous gaze in her direction. “I know it’s ridiculous coming from me, but I always wondered about that. Why didn’t the chaos elves ever rebel against the Baron and try to retake their land?”

“Because we’re not stupid,” the Queen bluntly states, earning a few trickles of laughter from the barbarians. Their reaction helps her relax and she finds herself able to breathe easier, the tension seeping from her sore muscles. “Your . . . enemy has proven to be too strong for my people to defeat. Long ago, we were swiftly crushed and made to suffer under weak leadership for hundreds of years. I’ve spent my entire life rallying my people to survive and I wasn’t going to jeopardize that by battling a monster that terrifies the gods. Not without the help of others. Besides, why would Windemere need champions if the Baron could be defeated by a single race?” The Queen clears her dry throat and rubs her belly, appearing vulnerable instead of confident. “Now there’s nothing else for me to say in my defense. I followed the orders of my former master and my people marched with me out of loyalty. We attacked you. Our exile and suffering doesn’t change that fact.”

Feigning stomach pain, Trinity doubles over and holds her belly while gasping for air. She peeks through her curtain of hair and watches the faces of the barbarians as they discuss her words. She maintains the illusion of being distracted and uncomfortable by blindly reaching backwards for a nearby water pitcher. Her hands shake as she pours herself a glass, the summer heat having made the drink warm. Trinity is surprised when Nyx walks over to hand her a cool washcloth and pat her forehead. The champion perches herself on the edge of the witness stand, the rough wood making her shift until she is comfortable.

“To the point and kind of thick,” the half-elf says while taking the quivering pitcher. She floats it to a table while staring at the muttering crowd. “I’ve been wondering something, my old rival. Are you even ready to survive outside the shadow of your master? It’ll be very different than being on Shayd and might even be more difficult.”

“It doesn’t matter. They need me to do it,” Trinity replies, nodding toward the other chaos elves. Her people are a sea of nervous tics and worried faces as they wait for their leader’s fate to be sealed. “I’m not sure where we can go or how we’ll survive. It isn’t like people will trade with us and we’d have to keep a low profile for a while. Money will be an issue too. Do you see all of the headaches I have to deal with since you didn’t kill me?”

“I’m sure you’ll be complaining about it for years,” Nyx teases before covertly dropping a diamond sphere into the box. Trinity levitates it into her pocket and is about to speak when Timoran bangs his axe on the stage. “I came into some money during our trip to Aintaranurh, which I can give to you. I’ll only keep what I need for traveling. As for where you’re going to live, I’ve heard rumors that Queen Tigris has a plan.”

“May we continue?” Timoran asks while looming over the channelers. Nyx slinks out of the way and stands among the children, who giggle at her red cheeks. “All of what you explained has led us to this day and decision. We do not hold the fate of one woman in our hands, but of an entire race. Soon I will have to leave Stonehelm and help my friends fight the one who enslaved the chaos elves. He hopes to do the same to all of Windemere, which tells me that these people are not ones to be feared or even pitied. They are to be set free from a lifetime of hardship and made to feel like they are welcomed. It is not their fault that this Baron conquered and twisted them with his power. We must realize that he could have done this to any race or culture. The chaos elves are his victims and they should not punished for that. I argue that executing Queen Trinity would take away their hope of freedom, survival, and acceptance. She is needed to guide them onto a better path and, if we choose, the Snow Tiger Tribe has the honor of helping them take that first step.”

An uproar can be heard in the back and one of the elderly warriors asks, “Where will they stay? We don’t have enough space or food. As much as I agree that they shouldn’t be punished and their plight sounds dire, we can’t release them into Windemere. The outside world won’t give them a trial like we are doing now.”

“I know of a place!” Queen Tigris shouts before her husband can reply. She extends her hand to Trinity and helps her out of the box to stand before the crowd. “There is a mountain, which is a day’s travel from Stonehelm. I lived there for years and can help you gain acceptance with the wildlife. Luke has even agreed to converse with the rocs that roost inside and convince them to let all of you stay. It will take a lot of adjustments for you and your people, but you’re welcomed to be our neighbors until you can return home.”

“I have to admit that I’m not sure what to do,” the chaos elf whispers, realizing that a few tears are running down her face. She no longer senses even a hint of aggression, which is slightly disconcerting after a lifetime of being hated. “We have nothing to pack, so we can be out of Stonehelm tonight. Do you think you could tell us what we can and can’t eat? I’m afraid we didn’t bring many healers with us.”

“We will discuss things in the morning,” Timoran states, offering his hand to his former enemy. The barbarians cheer at the sign of friendship and the guards open the pen to let the other chaos elves out. “You and the priestess who is helping with your baby may stay in the castle as our guests. I am afraid that our city is lacking enough space for so many, but it is fortunate that it is summer. We have plenty of tents to place around town for your people to use and take with them. With you needing supplies and time to acclimate to the area, it may be several days before you can move into the mountain.”