“Why should we obey you?” a tattooed archer asks, a longbow slung over her shoulder.
“Because I’m the one who will be stopping the other Near God from burning all of you alive,” Nyx replies, grabbing the woman by the shirt. Red energy coils around the half-elf’s muscles as she yanks the tall warrior down to stare into her face. “You can ignore me if you want, but that is my enemy out there. I’ve fought her and the chaos elves before and will probably face them many times after today. So be thankful I’m even letting you participate. I could just as easily put up a barrier and make all of you watch me have all the fun. Now is the Snow Tiger Tribe with me or do I have to treat you like insolent children?”
“Yes, ma’am!” shouts the barbarians, making the channeler blush.
“It appears you’re our War Chieftain for now,” Cyrus whispers to the young woman.
“I like the sound of that.”
Instead of leaping off the wall like her mind is screaming for her to do, Nyx takes the stairs and focuses on keeping her temper in check. Stepping through Stonehelm’s entrance, she slams the gate closed with powerful wind spells. The half-elf marches toward her rival, who is already standing halfway between Stonehelm and the chaos elf army. Not a single sound can be heard as the channelers approach each other, the wilderness seeming to hold its breath. The thorny shrubs and squat trees that dot the valley remain still, the summer breeze no longer passing through the valley. Movement to her left causes Nyx to risk a glance and she sees the snow tiger cubs spying on the battle from a high cliff. They disappear into the cave where their mother waits to attack anyone who dares to intrude. With a slow exhale, the half-elf walks faster to close the gap between her and Trinity.
“You’re not pregnant,” Nyx says when they get within a few steps of each other. The hope that her rival is too far along to fight is quickly dashed by the chaos elf’s slender figure, which the champion guesses is not an illusion. “I couldn’t say anything when I felt it because Stephen damaged my throat, but I sensed the baby when I freed you from him. Did something happen? I thought it was strange for you to be marching on Stonehelm given your condition. Did I cost you the baby when I broke your tether?”
“Shut up, champion,” Trinity snaps while adjusting her leather top. The fabric releases a shimmer that travels along her exposed belly and arms, revealing its magical protection. “I didn’t come here to talk. My orders are to kill you and, if possible, destroy Stonehelm. There won’t be any kindness between us this time. I’m done playing with you, hero. One of us has to die today and I swear I’ll crush your skull under my boot.”
“After everything we’ve been through, you still hate me?” the half-elf asks as a fireball appears in her hand. A blast of ice hits her spell, which explodes in her palm and peppers her forearm with freezing shards. “I was really hoping that we could talk, but you seem determined to see this battle through to the end. Guess we’re back to how we were when we first met in Rodillen.”
“Actually, I watched you fight in Gaia prior to our meeting, but such memories aren’t important,” the chaos elf claims with a shrug. She takes a step toward Stonehelm and is shoved back by a force spell that shatters her shirt’s defensive enchantment. “I didn’t put much work into this armor anyway. Not my style since it makes me feel restrained. Know that my army will charge as soon as we start fighting, so I hope your friends are ready.”
“Do you think your people can beat a barbarian tribe?”
“Yes because they’re fighting for everything they hold dear.”
“And the Snow Tiger Tribe isn’t?”
“Not like we are.”
Turning toward Stonehelm, Nyx wonders if Cyrus and the others are ready for the battle to begin. She is about to face Trinity again when a bolt of lightning strikes her in the side and she barely erects a barrier to avoid getting severely hurt. The impact is still enough to knock the half-elf across the valley, a thorny bush stopping her from hitting a boulder. She rolls away from Trinity, letting the chaos elf’s acid-dripping knife sink into the ground. With the barbed plant still on her, Nyx transforms it into an armor sleeve and fires all of the thorns at her rival. A barrier of fire erupts between them and incinerates the tiny projectiles, the wall sending pulses of heat through the valley. Before Trinity can decide on another spell, the champion grabs the flames and tears them out of the earth. Combining them with the wooden sleeve, they become a giant, rippling fan that unleashes an inferno with a single wave. Protected by a heat resistant shield, the chaos elf is sent flying and a trail of ashes follows her as she lands in the middle of the valley. Steam wafting off her clothes and hair, Trinity douses the flames on her body with a driving rain that creates a circle of mud. Singed by the attack, the determined woman steps out of the muck and waits for her rival to get closer.
“We’re really going to do this?” Nyx asks as she approaches. Not wanting to be caught by surprise, the half-elf summons a pair of fireballs that she holds at her sides. “Only one of us is walking away today, Trinity. Do you really want to fight me to the death?”
“It was always going to end this way!” the chaos elf declares while growing acidic blades from her palms. “The two of us being friendly and gaining respect for each other never really mattered. This fight was inevitable.”
“Seems so.”
“Good-bye, Nyx.”
“See you in the afterlife, Trinity.”
*****
“I have come to a decision!” King Edric announces as he steps out from behind the courtroom curtain. The exhausted ruler takes his seat and nods for Udelia to pull the shackled prisoners to their feet. “There is no evidence that I stole the crown of King Melich. Only that my crown is a simple, unadorned circlet like his. There are only so many designs that can be done, so repetition was bound to happen at some point in our history. It just so happens that I am the first and I can assure you that I will not be the last. All requests to defile his grave with an unnecessary search have been and will always be denied. The court and council find it insulting that such an act has even been suggested. I am sure Kerr would rain his fury upon us for desecrating the resting place of our ancestors. One hopes he is not already angry at our consideration of the idea. With the goal of appeasing our god and cleansing our city, the foreigner named Dariana will be exiled from Stonehelm tomorrow morning. She will never be allowed to step foot within our territory again under penalty of death.”
The courtroom remains silent as the gathered War Chieftains watch their leader and do their best not to yawn. None of the hardened warriors fully understand why Edric demanded that the doors and windows be sealed. They assume it is to prevent the rest of the citizenry from spying on the verdicts and breaking into another riot. It took hours to get Stonehelm under control after Dariana’s accusation, but the tension and confusion is still lurking beneath the surface. With only a handful of people knowing the final decision, it gives them time to prepare their soldiers to quell any violent disturbances. For now, the War Chieftains are trusting their men to maintain the fragile peace outside of the courthouse and hope that their trusted leader does not draw this meeting out for very long. Their minds are so busy thinking of ways to repair the damage to the King’s reputation that they are surprised when Dariana steps forward.
“I accept your verdict, but I still request that you examine King Melich’s tomb,” the champion says as Udelia grabs her by the arm. Dariana slips from the barbarian’s loose grasp and continues walking toward Edric, her manacled hands behind her back. “I assure you that Kerr will understand your actions. It is the only way to prove beyond all doubt that you didn’t steal the crown. With that rumor defeated, nobody will think you failed in Aintaranurh. Your kingship will be secured without question. By not doing this, you leave yourself open to whispered accusations that will continue to undermine your authority. By agreeing to my request, it will show you to be a cautious and confident ruler.”
“And I will be known as the first man to desecrate
the royal graveyard,” Edric states, the words practically spit from his mouth. The arms of his chair creak as he grips them, his anger nearly breaking his self-control. “This is not open for debate. If anyone is caught attempting to check the tomb then they will be executed on the spot. I loathe using such threats, but I will not have your lies destabilize my tribe any further. We nearly fell apart in the wake of losing General Godric and King Melich. I rose up to claim the throne even though I would have preferred to remain as a teacher and advisor. The sacrifices I have made for my people will not be undone by an outsider who would do anything to save a traitor.”
The Snow Tiger King grinds his teeth and feels his mouth go dry when the champion continues her quiet approach. Her face an emotionless mask, Dariana stops at the ruler’s feet and snaps her handcuffs with a flex of her wrists. With only a fraction of her power seeping through the necklace, one of her bones breaks and she nearly collapses from the shock. She cradles the damaged limb and struggles against the enchanted collar to set the injury. All she accomplishes is giving herself a headache and nosebleed, so she lets the arm hang limp at her side while she ignores the pain.
“I want to save a friend and would do almost anything to accomplish that goal,” Dariana says, refusing to look away from the scowling ruler. Sweat is on his brow, so she takes a single step away to make him understand that she will not attack. “That doesn’t include driving his people into anarchy and hurting the homeland that I know he loves. Timoran would never forgive me and I don’t have enough friends to risk losing any of them. All I am suggesting is that you work to remove all doubt from among your people. This isn’t being said as your enemy, but as someone who believes you to be a good man. Infected with fear due to recent events, but still good of heart. I’m sorry, but if I knew of any other way to solve the problem that I caused then I would reveal it immediately.”
“We could ask the shamans,” Udelia interjects, stepping forward and putting fresh restraints on the telepath. Minding the injured wrist, she drags the woman back and forces her to sit. “They may be able to talk to King Melich’s spirit and ask him to check his own body. Even if it fails or you’re denied, the attempt will help your reputation.”
“I will take that under consideration,” the ruler claims, though his voice hints that he is done with the argument. Satisfied that the discussion is over, he steeples his fingers and nods to his War Chieftains. “Now we come to the criminal whose actions have plagued our tribe for many years. They have left festering scars that we can finally cleanse. All of you will bear witness to his fate.”
King Edric leans back in his chair and turns to Timoran, the red-haired barbarian continuing to stare ahead. The calm expression on the prisoner’s face makes the older man angry and guilt-ridden, which catches him by surprise. Whenever he attempts to focus on the source of the emotions, he hits a mental wall and feels a pulse of discomfort. Deciding on the simplest answer, Edric assumes the sensation is because the warrior killed his best friend. Yet there is a nagging shard of doubt in his mind that he cannot shake. It is frustrating since he has spent years knowing that this exile is guilty and must be punished. Now with the most hated man of the Snow Tiger Tribe standing before him, the wise ruler finds that he is not so sure of what he saw on the battlefield. Suddenly, the entire event feels like a dream with only scraps of truth mixed with possible lies. Straightening his back and taking a cleansing breath, he rids himself of the confusing thoughts and prepares to bring peace to General Godric.
“Timoran Wrath is unquestionably guilty of abandoning his post,” Edric begins, aiming to build up steam as he chooses his words carefully. He takes strength from the War Chieftains paying close attention to the verdict, all of them leaning forward. “By this fact, he is also guilty of treason. The real question is if there is enough evidence to clear Timoran of the battlefield murder charge. Dariana did not make a suitable case on his behalf and settled for trying to undermine my reputation. I have found that a person only does such a thing when they are knowingly defending a criminal. Furthermore, these actions nullified the jury, who joined in the ensuing riot and have shown they are more interested in my fate than that of the accused. Due to their removal, the final decision comes down to me. With that being said, I find Timoran Wrath guilty of the murder of General Godric and he is to be executed in the morning. He will be given a final meal and his friends will be allowed to say their farewells. If he wishes to speak to a shaman and ask Kerr for forgiveness then one will be sent to his cell.”
“This wasn’t even a real trial!” Dariana shouts, leaping to her feet and ducking under Udelia’s attempted grab. Slowed down by the pain throbbing through her arm, the champion is easily caught by the collar of her shirt. “Every piece of evidence was flimsy and revolved around people only seeing Timoran standing near the body. Nobody ever saw him commit the murder, so you’re condemning him over conjecture. Admit that there was never any other way that this could have ended as long as you presided over it. How can you say you have honor when you have put on such a blatant farce of a trial?”
“Hold your tongue or you will be executed alongside your friend,” King Edric warns the champion. Reaching behind his chair, he draws a winged spear and settles the weapon on his shoulder. “I do not want to be a cruel ruler, but both of you are threatening the foundation of this tribe. You are not one us, Dariana, so exile is what I chose for your punishment. Be thankful that I am letting you leave with your belongings because the ancient traditions would see me send you naked into the wilderness. Now as one of our people, Timoran can only be dealt with through execution. That is unless he decides to renounce his blood and claim to no longer be a member of the tribe. Only then will I be willing to consider giving him the same punishment as you. Does he wish for this path?”
“I was born of this tribe and that is how I will die,” Timoran declares, facing the Snow Tiger King for the first time in days. The air in the courthouse becomes thick with tension as the two men lock defiant stares and growl at each other. “If this is your decision then I cannot change it, King Edric. I will point out that you are putting many innocent people in danger by sentencing me to death. The gods have given me a higher purpose and my friends need me to be by their side. You may claim that I am offending Kerr by rejecting your offer, but I know he would be furious if I agreed. He has made it known to me that I am to never show weakness, which is what you are asking of me.”
“You’ve heard rumors of the champions, right?” Dariana asks while facing the War Chieftains, who remain stone-faced and silent. Muttering a curse, the powerless telepath wishes she could implant the information into their minds. “A great evil will arise from history’s shadow and Timoran is one of the warriors chosen to stand in its way. It’s possible that him being framed for the death of General Godric was part of Gabriel’s plan to get him out of Stonehelm. If Timoran hadn’t left then he’d never have met Luke and Nyx in Hero’s Gate. He wouldn’t have been there when they returned at a later date either. Those events are what put him on the path of his destiny. Please see that this is a small part of a greater event and killing this man will destroy the Tri-God’s work.”
“If it truly is destiny then something will save him from being executed,” Edric retorts even though he is wise enough to know the world does not work that way. The disapproving look from the sheriff causes his thoughts to falter and he slumps in his chair. “Free will is part of Windemere’s beautiful tapestry and it is more delicate than destiny. Every choice holds a negative reaction for someone. If a man decides to steal a loaf of bread then someone else will have to go without. In this case, my path would be damaged if I was to release Timoran in the name of this supposed destiny. I will argue that there were many ways for him to meet the rest of you, but he chose the one that started with killing my friend. Such an act does not suit a champion who will save the innocent. Perhaps he is a tainted chosen and the only way for you to succeed is to cull him from your ranks. I assume that if a new hero i
s needed, one will rise at the proper time. It could even be Sheriff Kalten or Cyrus or anyone within this city if a member of this tribe is required.”
“That is not how Gabriel’s plans work.”
“Then let him appear and stay my hand.”
“You know the gods can’t do that.”
“In that case, I ask for them to send me a sign that this should not be done.”
Udelia tackles Dariana to the side as the ceiling cracks and collapses into the building, chunks of stone splintering the benches. One of the slower War Chieftains is trapped beneath the rubble, his massive hand flailing for assistance. Having jumped to the same side of the room, Timoran and Edric find themselves standing next to each other, but their attention is on the groaning figure rising from the dust. A burst of wind clears the air and reveals Nyx, fire rolling around her arms like enraged serpents. Without a gesture or word, the channeler magically hurls the debris off the trapped War Chieftain and sends her flames through the broken roof. They explode against an incoming swarm of spells and the eruption creates a rain of sparkling embers that bathes the entire city. Not wasting any time, Nyx hurtles back into the sky where she is slammed into by another form. A few seconds pass before the stunned witnesses here a distant boom that reminds them of a giant’s footstep.
“We will finish this later, your highness,” Udelia says as she frees Dariana from the handcuffs. As the War Chieftains rush the exit, the sheriff tosses her keys to the lone guard and climbs over the wreckage to be closer to the King. “I know you’ve waited years for this moment, but Stonehelm needs all of us. Perhaps the gods were listening and will pass their judgement on the battlefield. After all, the three of us carry sins that have long since required atonement. So forget your pride and-”
Edric raises his hand to stop Udelia from talking and reaches out to break Timoran’s restraints with his bare hands. “The voices of our people are calling to me. I hear spells and the mention of chaos elves. Queen Trinity herself is here to do battle and her reputation is one of power and ferocity. I also find her timing suspicious and believe it has something to do with our guests. You have been slated for execution, Timoran Wrath, but you are still a member of this tribe. The decision is up to you. Are you willing to fight for us?”
Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) Page 27
