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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I chose to go with Delvin because I needed time away from Luke,” Sari claims when she is done eating. Putting the plate back on the table, she churns and reheats the water to help get the thick layer of grime off her body. “I realized that I was losing myself in my relationship with him. At first being with him was the main thing that kept me sane and happy after all of my hardships. Feeling loved gave me the strength to continue fighting at the beginning. The problem is that I never let it go when I should have. This hurt you and Luke, but I think it did more damage to me. You two have each other while I end up alone again. Coming from a big clan, I’m not used to that and remaining by Luke’s side meant I’d never try to get used to it. He’d always be a crutch for me to fall back on either by his actions or mine. Does that make any sense?”

  “Of course it does because we all go through it at some point. You’re struggling to find your identity,” Kira replies as she retrieves her own breakfast. Seeing the hungry stare on her companion’s face, she hands over two pieces of bacon. “Don’t be a glutton. This is the last of my personal food supply. After this meal, we’re spending the rest of the journey eating what the crew gets. Nothing fancy since everything has to last.”

  “So what was your search for identity like?” Sari asks with the food in her mouth. Her tongue moves quickly to catch a crumb that is about to fall from her lip. “By the way, do you want a turn in the bath?”

  “You can have a few more minutes in there,” the heiress responds while pouring herself a glass of water. She swirls the clear liquid and takes a sip, the pause helping to maintain her composure. “I’m still on my search. After everything that’s happened to me, I’ve been examining my past actions. It may sound strange, but I feel like I’m remembering previous lives that I barely understand. When I was younger, I acted defiantly until I realized it made more sense to play the part of a spoiled noble. It didn’t feel natural, but it helped me make friends and get things that I wanted. Honestly, I’m not really sure if it made me happy. After that, I tried to be a warrior like Luke and my other new friends. It didn’t fit with my old façade, but I started feeling better about myself. Then everything got confusing again because I convinced Luke to accept my traditions and never expected someone like you to appear. The old stories tell of adventurers having one time flings with barmaids in an attempt to cure their loneliness. Those were stuck in my head once I knew he was going on a journey without me. I really made a mess of things and I’m still trying to sort through my reasons. Every time I look back on the situation, I see a different rationale for what I did. As for my current identity, I think I’m at a point where all of my masks are being torn to pieces and stitched into one. I need to be strong like a warrior, smart like a merchant, maybe a little pompous like a noble, and defiant like I was as a child. I eventually want to be a wife and a mother too.”

  “Perhaps it’s a quest that never ends.”

  “I’ve thought that many times. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”

  “So I have to put my pieces back together.”

  “You may find it easier than me considering your destiny.”

  Sari rises out of the basin and dries off by sending the water covering her body back into the ocean. Another wave of her hand removes the filth from the bath, leaving it as clean as when it was first made. She takes a thick robe off a nearby hook, the mottled pink coloring making her think it was a vibrant red long ago. Taking the plate from Kira, she gestures toward the tub and turns away to let the heiress strip. When she hears the other woman step into the bath, Sari takes the shampoo bottle that has the least amount of liquid inside. The scent of honey fills the room as she tries to imitate Kira’s scalp massage method, but the gypsy is unable to find the right amount of pressure. Most of the time it feels like she is trying to scratch her companion’s skin off the bone, which causes a rapid flood of apologies. Giving up, Sari settles for using the water to give the bronze-skinned heiress a full-body massage.

  “I might take you up on your earlier offer after this,” Kira groans as all of her sore muscles relax. She gropes at the perfume table for her drink, but finds it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds. “I’m sorry for being mean to you, Sari. It was uncalled for considering I’m more at fault for the situation than you and Luke. All of us need to act like adults and find a way to put this behind us. We should be friends.”

  “That we should,” Sari replies while nervously licking her lips. She leans closer to the basin and swallows the lump in her throat, the discomfort returning before she can speak. “I have a confession. Another reason I left Luke was because I’ve been feeling guilty for a while. You see, when facing a phantom of you during my coma, it teased me about using love spells. I denied it, of course. Then it said I wasn’t aware of what I did in my sleep.” The gypsy pauses when she sees Kira balling her fists beneath the water. “I checked Luke’s aura when I woke up and we were alone. The phantom was right and I’d been enchanting him in my sleep because I was terrified of being abandoned. I removed the spell and have checked him every other morning to make sure I didn’t put it back. Luke doesn’t know, so please keep this between us. I don’t want him to think I intentionally tried to sabotage his relationship with you, which was never my intent. The whole thing was an accident and I’m really sorry it happened. Guess I should be entirely honest and let everything out now. I’m also jealous and a little angry because it was when I dropped the love spell that Luke and I drifted back toward friendship. I guess I wasn’t really your rival to begin with.”

  Water spills out of the basin as Kira struggles to turn around and face the shame-faced gypsy. Part of her wants to throw a punch, but the thought is so fleeting that she is not even sure she had it in the first place. All she sees is a scared and lonely girl that could have been her if their paths had gone in opposite directions. Kira is fairly certain she would have attempted a love potion during her darkest periods even though she knows it would be a horrible decision. The idea that heartache could make her act against her nature helps erode the anger and jealousy she harbors toward the blue-haired champion. Feeling shy and not wanting to expose herself, the heiress takes Sari’s hands and eases her into a crouch. The awkward hug between them nearly tips the basin over, some of the water sloshing onto the gypsy’s robe.

  “Thank you, Sari,” Kira whispers, refusing to let go of the hug. She shivers as an ocean breeze comes through the open porthole and caresses her bare shoulders. “You could have kept the love spells going and stolen Luke from me, which is something I always feared. Yes, I’m angry that it happened, but you didn’t mean to enchant him. You stopped yourself and proved that you really are a good person. That tells me more about you than anything else I’ve ever learned about you and it should do the same to you. Honestly, now I feel guilty about being with him.”

  Sari cannot stop herself from nervously joking, “Break up with him and I’ll dart in for the prize, princess.”

  “Don’t make me chain you to the crow’s nest, gypsy,” Kira replies with a chuckle. She pulls away from her friend and gets out of the basin to search the room for a towel. “I guess this makes us even. If you remember, I outfitted myself with enchanted gear designed to kill you. That’s not counting the curse I purchased from a Pain Priest. It would have removed all of your hair and given you a few days of agonizing cramps. Don’t worry. I used it on a particularly nasty merchant whose crimes you really don’t want to know about.”

  “I suddenly fear you more than Baron Kernaghan,” the gypsy admits, removing the robe and handing it to the shivering heiress. She goes to her bag to retrieve clean clothes and a sturdy brush for her hair, the chilly wind having only a minor effect on her. “So we’re going to put everything behind us and try to be friends. It won’t be easy, especially when you two get married. Don’t be surprised if I drink a lot and cause some mischief during the party. Better have someone or something to distract me.”

  “That’s why I’
m going to have you be one of my attendants.”

  “What?”

  The heiress tightens the robe and takes the gypsy by the shoulder, her eyes betraying a sliver of apprehension. “It’s something I just decided. You may not realize it, Sari, but you’ve done a lot to help me and Luke. Not only as a couple, but as people. He does love you and that has made him stronger. You being my rival helped me mature and learn to treasure what I have. Also I learned that traditions don’t always work and sometimes you have to toss them aside to fight for what you want. So thank you for being a thorn in my side.”

  “Then I promise to keep you on your toes. Not that I’m going after Luke again, but I don’t want you getting soft and lazy,” Sari replies with a playful smirk. She scratches her head and opens her mouth a few times before finally blurting out a gnawing question. “Do I still get my one kiss with him? You did promise.”

  “You have until I marry him,” Kira replies before sitting at the table and preparing another plate of food. A forkful of eggs is nearly at her mouth before she stops and glances at the whistling gypsy. “Not at the wedding either. That would be really hard to explain, especially to those who don’t understand either of our cultures. Now grab that chair from the corner and help me finish this breakfast.”

  Feeling like a barbed chain has been removed from her heart, Sari bounds across the room to get the seat. With a flick of her wrist, she sends the water in the tub streaming out the porthole before making herself comfortable. The pair spend the entire day eating, drinking, and laughing within the small stateroom. By the time Delvin arrives to invite them to dinner with the crew, the two women are asleep on a bed wearing each other’s clothes. To his surprise there are no empty decanters and the only thing he smells is vanilla, water lilies, and honey.

  *****

  “Come in!” Trinity shouts when she hears someone timidly knock on the door of the shack she is borrowing. The Queen attempts to stand from a pile of cushions, but finds her legs are too sore and the baby’s position is throwing her off-balance. “You have to open the door yourself. I’m not able to move right now.”

  The young woman who steps inside the cluttered, one-room structure keeps her head down as she falls to one knee. Her hair is a rare dark purple, which Trinity guesses is the reason the skinny chaos elf has been trained as a priestess of Ambrosine. An amber glow around the holy woman’s blue eyes is a sign of their patron deity, which is bestowed on her more powerful followers after they survive their trials. To see the honor given to someone so young brings the channeler a flicker of hope that good news is on the horizon. The timid guest eventually stands to her full height, but remains focused on the floor where her bare feet tap nervously on the rough stone.

  “My apologies, your highness, but I have a message,” the young woman whispers, her hands opening and closing into fists. She takes a deep breath and tries to look at her beloved leader, but her head keeps rising until she sees the wooden ceiling. “This is in regards to you amassing an army, putting your heir in danger, and trusting the Baron. I know it’s not my place to speak of such things since I only recently became an official priestess. Yet I feel it would be shameful to keep this message from you.”

  “Nervous little thing, aren’t you?” Trinity teases before using several invisible hands of wind to help her sit up. The priestess is immediately at her side to offer a glass of water and, if necessary, catch her beloved Queen. “Thank you . . . Sebave. I heard about you from your teacher. She said you’re gifted with holy magic and you practically absorb the old tomes. You’ve done a great job healing our people and you get stronger every day.”

  “Thank you for your praise, your highness.”

  “I’m happy to finally put a face to the rumors. What is your message?”

  “Let me show you, Queen Trinity.”

  Sebave guides the other woman to a more comfortable chair before walking to the middle of the shack. A dull chanting rolls from her throat and the ethereal glow around her eyes wraps around her entire head. The priestess’s long, purple hair shimmers as it rises into a fan formation and reveals an image of Shayd. The picture moves to show bodies scattered about the landscape, each one the distinctive cobalt blue of a chaos elf. The rivers are red with blood and hordes of undead can be seen feasting on the corpses as the vision moves toward a plateau located in the center of the continent. Standing beneath a violent storm, Baron Kernaghan admires his handiwork and picks up Trinity’s mangled body. He tosses the remains to a pack of ghouls before his cloak is blown off his other arm by a guest of wind. Cradled against his chest is a small bundle of blankets that cries and squirms, each outburst sending combat spells into the clouds. With a blood-curdling screech from the baby, the image fades away and Sebave’s hair falls flat against her body.

  “I take it Ambrosine doesn’t like what I’m doing,” Trinity says, rubbing her belly as the illusionary screaming continues ringing in her ears. A small push makes her think the baby is trying to console her, but she knows it is more likely a stretch or shifting of position. “She believes that this will lead to the destruction of our people. I can’t say I disagree. Failing is not an option, but we’re going up against an army of barbarians and four of the champions. Two of our enemies have purified their temples and another is the daughter of a goddess. We don’t really have much of a chance unless Cessia decides to favor our side. No offense to Ambrosine, but luck isn’t her specialty.”

  “She gets along with the Luck Goddess and understands your words,” Sebave states in a mellow voice. A quiver runs through her muscles due to the euphoria left behind by the holy power that pulsed through her body only seconds ago. “Mother does think this is dangerous. She also knows that you have no choice. All she asks is that you be careful and remember that you are a chaos elf. Forget that you are a channeler and an agent of the Baron. Focus on what you were before all of those titles were placed upon you. Though we have been enslaved for hundreds of years, our cunning and ability to survive has only grown stronger. It is greatest within you and our people have flourished under your rule.”

  “Flourished in the filth?” the amused Queen asks with a laugh. She is surprised when her guest musters up enough courage to step forward and pinch her on the arm. “I’m going to demand that you never do that again. A crueler leader would have gutted you before you could blink.”

  “I apologize, but I know you’re not that type of person,” the priestess bravely replies while bowing her head. She whispers a calming spell that is delivered by blowing a kiss to her leader’s belly. “That should calm the child for a few hours and help you sleep. As for my statement, we are still slaves and living in poverty. Yet you have given us hope and made it that more of our children live to adulthood. Those older than you and I remember the dark days and how there was nobody protecting us from the whims of our masters. You have been our shield, your highness, and that is why all of us will march with you.”

  “Does Ambrosine wish for me to bring everyone?”

  “She has hinted that you should take as many as possible because of the Baron’s temper.”

  “He would never wipe us out.”

  “Ambrosine believes he would kill the adults and forge the children into more obedient slaves. That is another reason everyone is volunteering.”

  As the relaxation spell overtakes Trinity, she yawns and shakes her head to stay awake for a few more minutes. “I will take most of the able-bodied men and women. Al of the elderly, children, nursing mothers, and several healers will remain here with a small group of warriors. I know they will be hostages, but I will not take anyone who can’t fight onto the battlefield. I also refuse to leave them here undefended. If I truly am our people’s shield then I shall act that way to the bitter end. By the way, you’re coming with me as my midwife and assistant.”

  “What!?” Sebave gasps, a mixture of fear and happiness on her face. Caught off-guard, the flustered chaos elf attempts to salute, bow, and jump for joy at the same time. “I won�
��t let you down, your highness. I’m truly honored. I swear I will protect you with my life and . . . wait . . . midwife?”

  “The baby likes you, so you’re staying with me.”

  “So I won’t be on the battlefield to protect you?”

  With her eyes nearly closed, Trinity flashes a weak grin at the blushing priestess. “I will be fighting Nyx, so I don’t think you’re going to be much help. At best you would take one fireball for me before being turned to ash, which is not why Mother brought you to me. With the blessing of Ambrosine upon you, I need you as a healer and confidant. That is your strength and I would be a fool to leave a powerful priestess like you behind. Also, like I said before, the baby appears to like you. Now, I’m going to fall asleep in this chair and you can use the bowl of water in the corner to wash up.”

  Sebave is about to thank Trinity when she is forced to lunge forward and catch her slumping leader. Muttering a muscle-enhancing spell, the young priestess carefully carries the pregnant channeler to the large collection of pillows and lays her down. Her hand touches the woman’s stomach where she feels a few stiff kicks that make her smile. She can sense the strength and power of the unborn baby, which she takes as a sign that the chaos elves will survive into the next generation even if their Queen falls. Instead of getting clean like she was told, Sebave remains kneeling next to Trinity until she falls into a trance.

  6

  King Edric’s throne room is decorated with a preserved head from every great beast that can be found in the region and the banners of the tribe’s defeated enemies. Open windows allow a crisp, morning breeze into the stuffy hall and gives the people inside a clear view of the entire city. An elderly woman and her youthful grandson hurry to take the breakfast dishes out of the room, leaving a few mugs and water pitchers on a cart for their ruler. He sits on a large throne that has the head of a roaring tiger carved into the top, the teeth painted white to contrast with the dark stone. Instead of keeping the chair on the raised dais like previous Snow Tiger Kings and Queens, Edric long ago moved it to the front of a circular table. His goal is to make his guests feel more welcomed, but the effect fails today as he glowers at the three foreigners who are asking to be involved in his tribe’s business. The only one he can bring himself to look at is Dariana, but something about the silver-haired woman puts him on edge more than her half-elven companions.