“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 a
fraid 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.”
“Thank you. So what do we do now?”
The Snow Tiger King grins and eases his guest into the arms of Fortunatos who creates a relaxing chair for her. “It is a custom in Stonehelm to celebrate a peace treaty, a coronation, and a battle victory with a celebration. Now we have all three events at once, so we shall relax and have fun tonight. Business can come tomorrow.”
“Just a warning, Trinity,” Nyx says while she watches the mob disperse to prepare for the festivities. The channeler waves Timoran away, the gesture including a few teasing sparks that cause him to chuckle. “Everything a barbarian does seems to be a call for celebration. Hope you’re ready for a really long night. Even without drinking, I don’t think you’re going to bed any time soon.”
Watching her people mingle with the barbarians, Trinity smiles and curls some of her hair around her finger. She can see the faint image of shining eyes in the sky and gets the sense that Ambrosine is applauding her. For the first time since leaving Shayd, the Chaos Elf Queen truly feels the sun on her skin. It is a warm and soothing sensation that she never wants to live without. A small pain in her heart appears as she remembers all of her people who are still prisoners in her homeland. The thought of them suffering without her protection makes Trinity angry and she nearly melts the chair with a spell. Only Nyx notices the surge of energy and places a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm.
“I promise to save the rest of your people and return you to Shayd,” the champion swears as Sebave timidly joins them on the dais. The priestess is carrying a small plate of fruit, all of which she is curiously examining. “Just keep the others safe and gather your strength. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Baron and Gabriel aren’t done with you.”
“That’s just perfect,” Trinity replies with a wry smile. “I’m not even close to being done with them.”
*****
“I remember long ago when only the rich buried their dead,” Zaria says as she appears next to Dariana. The two women stand over Udelia’s grave, a shimmering pool of jade only a few feet behind their translucent forms. “It was not really because of the wealth. Any farmer had a shovel and could make a simple marker. Those who lived outside of the cities did not want their loved ones to return as zombies. Necrocasters were not common, but they were not rare either. Back then, it was expensive to hire a priestess or a paladin because the gods were big on accepting sacrifices. Those days had a lot of cremations.”
“I like this better because graves can be visited,” Dariana claims, bending down to touch a wreath of flowers. Since it is only her astral projection, her hand passes through the decoration and makes it shake. “I’m glad you came when I called, mother. The events with Timoran’s tribe have raised some questions that I can’t share with my friends. Most importantly, is the prophecy really this fragile?”
Zaria sighs and turns to the liquid jade, the red-haired Goddess of Purity seeing through to the decaying temple. She sees ghosts frozen in time as their home is absorbed by the surrounding stone. It will not be long before all traces of Aintaranurh have been devoured by the mountains and only the bones of the monsters inside will remain. Pitying the phantoms who were invited by Fortunatos, she frees them from their shrinking prison and watches as they swarm out of the ground. Many return to their graves where a portal to the afterlife awaits while some wander off, their resting place no longer remembered.
“The prophecy has always been on the verge of collapse,” Zaria says, a few tears falling onto her ivory dress. Having gained permission to repair the damage, she touches the jade pool to turn it into solid rock and covers the area in a layer of dirt that can never be removed. “We never knew why the previous God of Destiny made this path so brittle. Remember that Gabriel damaged it when he ascended and allowed your father to live. Around the smoldering remains of the original prophecy, he built what you see now. Yet a new house on a weak foundation can still be toppled with very little effort. Cessia has tried to help by giving us and our agents as much luck as she can, but it did not work for Aintaranurh and the barbarians. Two more generations of champions and this place would have been useless for both sides.”
“Then none of you should have let things get this far,” the telepath claims, slipping away from her mother’s attempt at a hug. She freezes as her physical body reacts to someone bumping into her at the celebration in Stonehelm. “I know there’s the Law of Influence, but letting this happen is reckless. What is the purpose of any of you besides giving magic to priests and priestesses? Do you even care if my father returns? I doubt he’ll let the gods and goddesses remain on Ambervale. With that damnable law, would any of you fight back?”
The slap across Dariana’s face causes her astral form to tear at the waist, the top half hovering a few feet to the left of her legs. Releasing gasps of pain, the champion concentrates on repairing the damage while her mother patiently fumes nearby. She can sense that her body has collapsed and is being helped to a chair by Cyrus, the General telling everyone that she has had too much to drink. The two women remain silent and still for so long that several small animals wander out of their burrows. A rabbit hops over to Dariana, sniffing at the telepath’s ghost-like foot and scampering away when her toe twitches.
“We all know what will happen when your father awakens,” Zaria says while bending down to pet a squirrel. Her touch makes its fur shine and the tiny creature nuzzles her palm. “He has sworn to make us pay for creating the Law of Influence. It is believed that he will conquer the world and cut us off from our followers. Nobody knows what that will do to Windemere and we do not want to find out.”
“Then shouldn’t you do whatever it takes to make sure this prophecy continues pushing forward?” Dariana asks, refusing to soften her tone. A rumble of thunder draws the champion’s attention to the west where she sees a black cloud shaped like a unicorn. “I can see Gabriel is eavesdropping, but my question still stands. Could you have done anything to prevent Wodan from weakening Aintaranurh?”
“Something was done before he went too far,” the Purity Goddess argues, her eyes closing as she converses with the other gods. Her scrunched face and clenched fists reveal that she is arguing and getting frustrated. “I am relaying this from Gabriel. If the Snow Tiger King was stopped from entering Aintaranurh then he would never have created his tribe. Timoran Wrath might never have been forged and all events would have gone in a different direction. While we did not plan for such things, we worked with them and will continue to do so. Free will cannot be stifled for the sake of the safest path. All times that we have attempted to do so has caused great change within Windemere and our ranks. Trust that things will work in your favor, but not so much that you remain idle.”
Dariana rubs her temples and yawns, her energy starting to wane. “I understand. Thank you for coming to answer my question.”
“There is more to this visit,” Zaria admits while caressing her daughter’s cheek. She looks to the distance and sees the storm over Shayd flash with crimson lightning. “You have a new half-brother coming into the world. The child of Arthuru and Yola Biggs is sure to be a danger. We do not know what will happen, so we need you to remain on your guard.”
“Should I warn the others?”
“Yes, but try not to make them worry. All of you have enough problems right now.”
From the other side of Dariana’s transmission, a blood-curdling scream shreds her astral form. She is rocketed back into her body to find that the chaos elves and barbarians have stopped celebrating. Everyone is gathered around the dais, so she pushes her way through the crowd that gradually parts to let her through. Leaping onto the stage, the champion first sees Sebave crouched on the ground, the priestess’s robes covered in blood. T
rinity is trying to console the wide-eyed woman while Nyx and Luke tend to a tiny, limp form.
Sensing that Sebave is merely startled, Dariana gets closer to her friends and sees that they are holding Fizzle. The drite is covered in wounds and barely breathing, each puff of his chest a series of stutters. His tail is broken in three places and his crimson wings have several tears in them. Wisps of rainbow mist drift from between his cracked lips and get sucked into his nostrils to dull his agony. Dariana takes Fizzle in her arms to scan his mind and witnesses his struggle to escape the jungle. Gently going back in the dragon’s memories, she sees the attack on Sari and Delvin, but she cannot see how the fight ended. The telepath prays that their friends are still alive and tries to forget how fragile the prophecy is. Part of her swears that Gabriel and her mother would never let events spiral so far into disaster without them having a chance to rescue the others.
“We have to get to the southern jungles,” Dariana says, cradling Fizzle’s head in the crook of her arm. “Immediately.”
*****
Crimson lightning pounds the continent of Shayd and a chorus of screams sends boulders crashing into the ocean. The remaining chaos elves huddle in their caves, which are bathed in protective shells of green energy. Even with Yola’s shields, the terrified people still feel every shudder and spasm of their world. Undead randomly explode as shockwaves of magic burst from the castle, which has already lost one of its corner towers. All of the demons have retreated to the Chaos Void, leaving swirling vortexes that they peek through to see if it is safe to return to their jobs. With a final shriek of pain that ends with gleeful laughter, a new threat to the champions is born.
The adventure continues in
Charms of the Feykin
Tribe of the Snow Tiger (Legends of Windemere Book 10) Page 41
