“So you want to defend your traitorous friend even though you do not know the laws of Stonehelm?” King Edric asks after several minutes of silence. He eyes Luke who is barely awake and gradually sliding out of his chair. “I understand that you wish to defend a man who has fought alongside you. That is only natural and I respect that. Still, this case predates your connection to Timoran, which makes me question your effectiveness in the court. It is easy to assume that you would show bias and attempt to skew the trial toward a narrative that you have created in your own mind. That would undermine the entire thing. More importantly, two of you are not endearing yourselves to me.”
“You have my deepest apologies,” Luke groans, adjusting his posture and shaking his head clear. He yawns and rubs at his eyes, the pressure making his headache worse. “I helped one of your citizens get home, which led to a conversation. He offered me a drink, but I declined. So he gave me a glass of what I thought was water. Then I woke up outside the door to our room with a note saying I was found in a water trough.”
Nyx takes a deep gulp from her decanter and lazily grins at her friends. “They suckered you with the potato wine too, little brother? I don’t think it’s fair to condemn him for that. Luke is usually very well . . . I know he didn’t mean to cause trouble this time.”
“I will take your word for that since Lodur has a reputation for tricking people into being his drinking partners. Though the rest of us can hold our liquor better than one who I assume weighs the same as a newborn lamb,” Edric says with the hint of a smile on his face. Nyx’s sneeze draws his attention to the channeler and he scowls when he sees fire ripple through her hair. “Then there is the violent, drunken Near God. I have been told of your attempt to release the traitor and how you threatened to destroy the tribe. While I understand you are under an enchantment and not in your right mind, I am concerned by your presence here. My people are strong warriors, but I do not believe any of us have the ability to handle someone like you. So your friendship with the traitor has become a source of tension among the populace.”
“I swear that I’ll be on my best behavior and I’m sorry for my outburst,” Nyx replies, rising from her chair to bow. Her eyebrow twitches when she sees their host turn away, his eyes focusing on the head of a large bear. “The truth is that we can’t continue our journey without Timoran. So it’s in our best interest to resolve this quickly and find a mutual-”
“You will not be allowed in the courtroom,” the King declares, swiftly interrupting the channeler. Keeping his other acute senses focused on the young woman, he watches a sparrow hop along one of the windowsills. “My apologies for being rude, but I ask that you see things from my perspective. There is the possibility that you would use your magic to influence the proceedings. As you said, you cannot continue your journey without the traitor. I do not know you well enough to trust that you will respect our laws and put them ahead of your own desires. More importantly, there is no alcohol allowed in the courtroom.”
“That isn’t my fault!” the half-elf shouts, shaking the entire castle with a stomp. Unwilling to back down, she puts out her hand to stop Dariana and Luke from talking. “I understand that you’re scared of me and I don’t blame you for worrying about my magic. That doesn’t mean you can lie to me about the alcohol rule. Timoran told us that his people drink during meetings and celebrations. I find it hard to believe that you would ban alcohol in-”
“That is the law because I made it so after the traitor left the tribe.”
“My situation is a medical condition.”
“Then you can stay in a tavern to avoid running out of medicine.”
A wave of heat washes through the room as Nyx’s temper flares and the tattoo shoots sparks through her shirt. With a quick shot of Ifrit mead, the channeler stops the mystical rage from taking over her actions. Feeling like she is wasting her time, the violet-eyed champion quietly stands and heads for the door. She glances over her shoulder when she hears approaching footsteps and is relieved that Luke is groggily trailing behind. He puts a comforting arm around her shoulders and smiles, but the expression turns into a wide yawn. The stench of his breath is bad enough that Nyx feels woozy and tosses an aromatic puff of magic into his throat. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she helps her little brother out of the room and leaves a wind spell to slam the doors behind them.
“Have we passed your test?” Dariana asks, leaning back in her chair. The Snow Tiger King has a blank expression, but she senses that he is impressed with her insight. “You wanted to see how Luke and I would react to your antagonizing of Nyx. While you personally believe she wouldn’t use her powers to influence the trial, your people might not be so trusting. You keep calling Timoran a traitor, but you wish to be fair and that means he has a small chance of being found innocent. If that happens and Nyx is in the courtroom then there would be doubt about it being an honest verdict. Now you’ve eliminated that issue and seen that I can remain calm in the face of blatant rudeness and aggression. I’m not sure what your interest in Luke is since the first impression he made has soured your opinion on his ability to function in court. That and you can tell he is more a man of action than words.”
“Very insightful, but not entirely correct,” Edric replies as he rises from the throne. Rubbing his bald head, he walks around the table and stands next to his guest. “There is no chance of your friend being found innocent. We have too many witnesses and his own actions prove that he has a guilty conscience. The trial is nothing more than a formality, which is another reason why I am concerned about your involvement. The citizens of Stonehelm want this to be settled as quickly and cleanly as possible. More importantly, General Godric deserves justice and peace after all this time.”
“If that’s the situation then you do need me to defend Timoran,” Dariana explains while moving around the barbarian to get herself some water. She dabs her finger into the liquid and tastes it to make sure it is not potato wine, the champion unsure if their host is done with his tests. “None of your people will want the job because of the social backlash. If you’re truly trying to copy the Serabian courts then you know somebody has to speak for the accused. Nyx is not an option due to her condition and Luke isn’t any good at this, which leaves me. Besides, Cyrus told me that there are still people in Stonehelm who support Timoran or at least remain neutral to the situation. Those people need to feel like you gave him a real chance at being found innocent instead of putting on an empty show.”
“Are you being honest or playing to my political future?”
“Both.”
Dariana finishes her drink and makes herself comfortable on the windowsill, the stone warm from the morning sun. She watches a group of warriors practice with blunt axes against armored dummies, the dangling figures swinging wildly after every strike. A snow tiger can be seen resting on a nearby cliff, the orphaned cubs playing around the tamed beast’s feet. The silver-haired woman smirks when she picks up on the Snow Tiger King’s racing thoughts. As she suspected, Edric has a lot of pride at stake in this trial because the death of General Godric is what led to him gaining the throne. Many of the citizens remain unsure about his leadership and strength, so he believes that bringing closure to this delicate situation will quell their doubts. A part of him is also determined to avenge his fallen friend and sees this as the only way since he is more of a philosopher than a warrior.
“Do you swear to abide by our laws and control the Near God?” Edric asks as he joins Dariana at the window. He sighs as he takes a quick look at his beautiful city, the summer heat creating columns of haze in the open field. “I will give you a copy of the laws, which you will have a day to memorize. The trial starts tomorrow morning and I will allow you to be a part of it as long as you swear an oath to Kerr. Promise to the Barbarian God that you will not do anything to disrupt the proceedings. If you attempt to sabotage the trial or help the traitor escape then you will be executed alongside him. Are you still willing to-”
“Give
me the book and I’ll see you in the courtroom,” Dariana interrupts, extending her hand for a shake. The furrowed brow of the barbarian makes her blush and move away to bow apologetically. “I’m sorry for that. I became caught up in the moment and forgot my place. I swear on Kerr to abide by your laws and treat the court with respect. May I visit and talk to the accused prior to the trial?”
“Yes, but you will be supervised.”
“I thought that would be the case. Know that I’ve nothing to hide.”
“Then I will instruct Sheriff Kalten to have a law tome waiting for you at the prison. Good day and, though I stand against you, good luck.”
With a polite nod of her head, Dariana backs toward the entrance and turns to find Cyrus waiting in the doorway. The smiling barbarian salutes his ruler and politely gestures for the champion to follow him into the hallway. The pair walk in silence until they are so far away from the throne room that Edric’s keen ears cannot pick up their whispering voices. The black-haired warrior takes a deep breath, subtly sniffing the air for scents and straining his hearing for noises. He is fairly certain that the guards are not in earshot, so he gently pats Dariana on the shoulder.
“Does he know about your specialty?” Cyrus asks in a low voice. He scratches his head to make sure she understands his meaning. “The king would ban you like your friend if he knew about that.”
“He didn’t ask and I didn’t tell,” Dariana responds with a smirk. “A good friend taught me that rule. Do I have to worry about you revealing my secret?”
“Nothing could pry it from my lips.”
“Good. I’d hate to make you believe you were a chicken.”
“You can do that?”
The telepath smiles and moves a few steps ahead of her guide, leaving Cyrus to repeatedly check his own thoughts. A brief desire for corn makes him nervous until he realizes that he has caught the scent as they near the kitchen. Stealing two ears and hurrying to catch up, the only things running through his mind are bawdy jokes that he hopes will make his companion too embarrassed to pry for very long.
*****
Timoran grunts as he catches the swinging leg and hurls the nimble calico across the trampled clearing. He is tackled from behind by a roaring ogre, but rolls forward to pin the muscular beast and break its crushing hug. Stomping on the monster’s groin, the unarmed barbarian charges to attack a pair of dwarves who are struggling to get out from under a fallen tree. One of them is sent flying by a kick to the chest and the other is finished off with a one-armed neck snap. The calico leaps onto Timoran and digs her claws into his shoulders, which drive in deeper when he jumps and slams back first into the ground. He hears the shattering of her spine and tosses the body at the approaching ogre, which bats the woman away. The powerful fighters are about to crash into each other when the clearing fades away and Timoran finds himself back in his lonely cell.
“Thank you for helping me remain sharp, my friend,” the sweating man says as he accepts a mug of water from Cyrus. The other barbarian pats him on the shoulder before going back to the entrance where he is watching for Udelia’s return. “I assume you are done studying the laws. If you need more time, I would not mind getting some practice against wild beasts or perhaps a dragon. Preferably with a weapon.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m done and need to discuss some things with you, Sir Wrath,” Dariana replies in a serious tone. Dressed in a white shirt with a tiger emblazoned on the back and her nicest pair of dark blue pants, the telepath is doing her best to appear professional. “We only have a few hours before we have to go to sleep and then it’s time for your trial. The laws are rather simple and most of this small book is a history of verdicts. King Edric has had many trials over the few years that you’ve been gone. There are repeated mentions of how to handle a traitor even though such a criminal has never been tried. I believe that the laws pertaining to your case have not been finalized. You are going to be used to solidify and justify this system, so there may be a lot of flexibility here.”
“There may also be a lot of underhanded tricks,” Timoran suggests while scratching the scars on his shoulder. A twitch of his friend’s lip makes him regret his pessimism in the face of her trying to give him hope. “I apologize for my negativity, but I prefer the old ways. All of this relies on who is the better talker, which is not always the one who deserves to win. Unless you noticed some laws that negate this issue.”
“Not really. It does seem like it is an exact copy of the system used by most of Serab,” the telepath admits as she thumbs through the thin tome again. She stops on a page and runs her finger along the words, a nervous giggle making the prisoner curious. “It would appear that King Edric enjoys seeing debates. There is mention of lawyers arguing for hours and witnesses being handled in a similar manner. That is very strange since it can cause chaos and undermine the trial. What was Edric like before he took the throne?”
“He was a teacher and scholar,” Cyrus replies from down the hall. Taking a peek outside to make sure the sheriff is still out on patrol, he jogs over to Dariana and takes a seat at the small table. “At one point, he was asked to be the History Keeper, but he declined because he preferred to bestow knowledge and wisdom on others instead of cataloging it. That’s one reason why he was pushed into taking the throne. He didn’t really want it, but the tribe needed someone wise to see us through the hardships that had befallen us since King Melich’s assassination. You have to understand that losing General Godric, Timoran, and so many other warriors in one battle was a new experience for our tribe. So there was a lot of confusion and fear during that time.”
Dariana leans back in her chair and crosses her arms, something about Cyrus’s story standing out among the other facts. “The Snow Tiger Tribe has never lost a warrior in battle? I find that hard to believe. No offense to your people, but even Cessia doesn’t bestow that much luck on a single group.”
“We have lost warriors, but never so many prominent ones in a single battle. At least not since the early days of the tribe,” Timoran answers as he leans on the cell bars. Stepping back to grip the highest point of the solid poles, he does several awkward pull-ups to burn off some of his energy. “I can see how people would be scared and confused. All of our enemies would have taken advantage of an empty throne once news spread. That is not counting former exiles who would have returned to cause trouble.”
“Was your wife one of the fatalities?” Dariana bluntly asks.
The barbarians go pale and tears fall down Timoran’s cheeks, the red-haired man dropping from the bars and letting his shoulders slouch. Ignoring the line on the floor, Cyrus goes to put a comforting hand on his friend’s fingers since he cannot fit his arm through the bars. The gesture is tossed aside as a furious rage grows in the champion’s heart. Biting his lower lip until it bleeds, Timoran holds back a roar that will draw the attention of those outside the prison. The powerful warrior trembles against the urge to unleash his full rage and tear the bars out of the floor and ceiling. Unable to stop himself, he turns and punches the opposite wall hard enough to leave a dent in the solid stone. His fingers are bruised, but nothing is broken, so he rears back to attempt another strike. The sensation of a cool hand caressing his cheek eases his anguish and stops Timoran from hurting himself. Falling to his knees, he refuses to look at his friends who are staying by the table.
“I’ll go see if that attracted Udelia,” Cyrus whispers into Dariana’s ear. He knocks on the bars and crouches to get the prisoner’s attention. “Don’t fall into despair, Wrath. She wouldn’t want you to do anything foolish. Like Tigris always said, you’re more than giant muscles and a friendly smile, so stop acting like an overgrown child.”
“I believe my wife was more eloquent than that,” Timoran replies in a gravelly voice. He watches his friend leave before returning to the bars and facing Dariana. “When I ran away from Stonehelm, I planned to come back for my wife. Then I overheard that she was lost during the battle. The stories varied as to what happ
ened, but it was clear that she was gone. Part of me still hopes that Tigris is alive somewhere. Though it is nothing more than a foolish dream that I cannot free myself from. Does her death have anything to do with my trial?”
“More personal curiosity, but it’s possible that it will come up,” the telepath admits before going back to the law book. She takes a few sips of water and offers another glass to Timoran, who eagerly accepts the drink. “Stonehelm has no precedence for a trial like this, so we have to be ready for anything. Your memories of the battle are vague and have obvious gaps, so you’re going to have trouble when questioned. The opposition will attempt to get a confession out of you by making you think you did it. In reality, you have no recollection of actually killing General Godric and you need to make that point clear. The best we can hope for is you being found guilty of abandoning your station, which would result in a temporary exile. That actually works better for our journeys since you won’t be emotionally burdened anymore. Sorry. That was rather heartless. I know it would also mean you could not return to your homeland for a while.”
“Do you believe we can win?”
“We’re going to lose in some fashion, but I don’t believe you’re guilty of the big crime.”
Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) Page 12
