The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5)

by Marc Edelheit

  Nantus and others gave nods of understanding.

  “To alleviate the road becoming a serious impediment,” Stiger said, jumping in, “we decided to split the army in two. When we begin our march, Braddock’s force should be well ahead of ours, giving the legion an open road.”

  Blake spoke up. “It’s winter up in the hills and mountains. However, I imagine parts of the road beyond the hills and at a lower elevation could see mud. Under the weight of thousands of feet, hooves, and wagon wheels, the road could still become a problem. I’ve seen it happen before, sir, in the Wilds.”

  “If needed,” Stiger said, thinking that he was quite right, “we will reinforce the road, corduroying it.” Repairing the road would slow things down, but laying a log road over the muddy portions would ultimately speed up subsequent supply and any following units. Best to focus on one problem at a time, though. “We will handle that problem when it presents itself. Now, while we deal with the enemy before the castle, as I said, Braddock will get a head start on us. More importantly, he will secure the open ground at the edge of the forest, where the road terminates.” Stiger tapped the area to the east, just beyond the Sentinel Forest’s border. “The Cyphan, those outside the forest and to the east, may soon learn the road has been cut. If so, or when they do, they will most likely dispatch a force to investigate why they’ve lost contact with their army at Vrell. This is one of several unknowns, which reinforced our decision to split forces and have Braddock press forward with all possible haste to get ahead of such an eventuality.”

  “Once again, speed becomes our friend,” Eli said quietly. “Especially for Braddock.”

  “Correct.” Stiger gave a pleased nod. “We can’t afford to give the Cyphan time to assemble a relief force strong enough to clear the road. And we don’t want a meeting engagement somewhere out in the Sentinel Forest, where it will be difficult to maintain lines and keep reasonable control over our formations. There will be little room for maneuver. We may find ourselves boxed into a bloody and costly brawl before we can even break out into the open. That was another factor in our decision to have Braddock push forward on his own and anchor a position outside the forest.”

  Stiger glanced up. As expected, every eye was upon him.

  “Now,” Stiger said, “let’s dive into the order of march and deployment upon the ground we will hold. Salt, do you have the dispositions?”

  “I do, sir.” Salt held a tablet in a hand. “First Cohort shall have the honor of marching at the legion’s van, then Second…”

  Stiger looked over at Sabinus as Salt continued outlining the order of march. The centurion stood straighter at the honor being bestowed. First Cohort represented the core of the legion, even with the recent addition of garrison legionaries. Stiger had made the decision to place them at the head of the line of march. If fighting broke out before the entirety of the legion could be deployed, it would fall to First to hold until reinforcement arrived. Stiger knew he could count on Sabinus for that. He was a very competent officer. From the look Sabinus gave him, he knew the centurion understood the same and what was being asked of him.

  Turning his gaze back to the map, Stiger prayed he and Braddock had made the correct decision. For if the enemy did not attack his position, Stiger knew, he would be forced to attack theirs. And that would prove costly.

  FIVE

  The wind howled outside the shuttered window, rattling it occasionally. A fire crackled in the fireplace, once again the only light in his room. Stiger liked it that way, for he found it relaxing. Dog was stretched out on his side before the fire, soaking up the warmth, sleeping. It was late, sometime after midnight.

  Stiger had spent the last few hours with his headquarters staff, making decisions and solving last-moment problems. He took a long pull on his pipe, enjoying the flavor of the tobacco and the warmth as he sucked it in. Taha’Leeth had departed with Eli a little over an hour before. Aver’Mons and Marcus had gone with them. They had a job to do, scouting the enemy’s encampment.

  Stiger had initially worried about Taha’Leeth’s safety, then felt foolish. She was an elven ranger. The enemy would never know she was there, let alone Eli and the others. Deep down he knew he could not afford to burden himself with such concerns about her and the other rangers. He couldn’t be so selfish. He was the legate of the Thirteenth Legion, and there were larger things at stake than the safety of one individual. Still, Stiger found himself worrying just the same.

  Taha’Leeth had quickly come to fill a void in his life. Until he’d returned to his quarters, Stiger had not realized how much he missed her company. Despite the warmth of the fire, the room seemed somehow a little colder and less welcoming in her absence.

  Taking another pull on the pipe, he shifted in the chair, making himself more comfortable. It had been a while since he had had any peace and quiet to enjoy a good pipe and with no company but his own thoughts. That was a rarity. He’d quickly discovered that Taha’Leeth frowned upon the habit, so he’d refrained from smoking in her presence.

  He blew out a stream of smoke and glanced around the room. This would be his last comfortable evening for some time to come. Certainly, it would be weeks, if not months, before he slept in a bed again or, for that matter, enjoyed the comforts of a room with a fire. The best he could hope for was a tent with a cot. And even the cot would soon prove a luxury, for he had little doubt he would find times in the coming campaign where the best he could afford would be the ground and his arms for a pillow.

  “It is what it is,” Stiger said.

  Dog opened an eye and looked his way. He closed it again and went back to sleep.

  Braddock’s army had already started marching, entering the dwarven underground that led to the Tol’Ket road. One unit after another, the dwarven and gnome army had started their movement over twenty hours before. The last of Braddock’s army, like a great slithering snake, would march within the next few hours, opening the way for Stiger’s legion and auxiliary cohorts to begin their movement.

  With the majority of Braddock’s army having moved, Stiger knew the advance cohorts of his own legion likely had already been woken and even now were preparing for their own movement. Undoubtedly, they were breaking down their camp, packing and checking gear. A hot meal would be served and precooked rations distributed. Then they would be off.

  Stiger took a pull off his pipe and blew a long stream of smoke up into the air. Everything was in motion now. By sunset on the morrow, how many men would be dead or injured? How many maimed, crippled? He took another pull and then blew it out.

  He was tired. The last few days had proven to be challenging. There had been so much to see to and do, the days had sped by in a blur. Despite his weariness and the early morning ahead, he was not ready for bed.

  Ever since he had taken command of the Thirteenth, there had always been something that needed doing or some decision that had to be made, people waiting to see him. Only late at night, like this one, had Stiger come to appreciate the quiet, the silence, the uninterrupted peace.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Dog lifted his head and gave off a soft growl.

  The knock came again, heavy and hard.

  “Come,” Stiger called, trying to keep the irritation he felt from his voice.

  The door opened and one of his guards appeared. A draft of cold air flowed into the room like a strong breeze. Stiger suppressed a shiver.

  “Sorry to bother you at such a late hour, sir,” the guard said, sounding truly apologetic. “An elf is here to see you. He insisted, sir.”

  “I am no elf,” came an irritated voice from the hallway.

  Stiger well knew that voice. Dog’s tail began wagging.

  “It’s all right,” Stiger said, “send him in.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard stepped aside.

  A moment later, Menos swept into the room. His black robe whispered across the floor. The noctalum glared at the guard as he passed, then paused as Dog gave a welcomin
g bark and bounded over to Menos, licking excitedly at the noctalum’s hand.

  Menos rubbed the top of dog’s head. A trace of a smile appeared on his face as he gazed down on the animal. Dog’s tail wagged even harder, shaking his entire body.

  “You may leave us,” Stiger said to the guard, who was standing in the doorway. “We’re not to be disturbed.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guard said. “I will see that no one bothers you, sir.”

  The guard closed the door.

  “Don’t you believe in more light?” Menos asked, glancing around the small room. “A lamp or candle perhaps? It’s downright gloomy in here. I know elves can see in the dark pretty well, but you are human and your night vision is poor at best.”

  “The fire provides enough light for me,” Stiger said. “Besides, I was just about to turn in for the night. I find it relaxing.”

  Without being invited, Menos sat down in the chair next to Stiger. Dog returned to his original position and laid down, stretching out before the fire.

  “This seems rather humble for the legate of the Thirteenth and Champion of the High Father. Rather humble indeed.”

  “It suits my needs just fine.” Stiger looked over at the noctalum, who had steepled his fingers over his chest and leaned back in his chair. The old chair creaked in protest.

  Menos turned his gaze to the fire.

  “Ogg lifted the memory block Thoggle put on you.”

  Stiger had figured that, at some point, the noctalum would seek him out, especially after his memory of the past had been restored. He had been looking forward to it and their reunion.

  Menos pulled his gaze from the fire and gave Stiger a nod, which answered his question.

  “It’s about time,” Stiger said and blew out another stream of smoke.

  “Time,” Menos said, “it’s all about time, isn’t it? That is the fire in which we burn.”

  Stiger gave a laugh and took another pull from his pipe. “That’s a good one, really. It’s only taken three hundred years, but your sense of humor is finally improving.”

  “It has been a long time.” Menos paused. “My friend, a very long time.”

  “Not so long for me. It seems like I just left you and Thoggle a few days back.”

  “Well,” Menos said, “thanks to Thoggle, I forgot to miss you. So, it really wasn’t all that bad for me either.”

  Stiger gave a chuckle.

  “Would you care for some wine? Venthus brought me a heated jar a short while ago. It should still be warm.”

  “That sounds good,” Menos said. “Flying to the castle, though a short distance from the mountain, was not a comfortable experience. It is very cold out, and the winds up this high made it worse. I am not as young as I used to be. My bones feel the chill touch of winter more with each passing year.”

  “How old are you exactly?” Stiger stood and walked over to the desk, where the jar sat with an extra mug. “Older than that mountain, I’d hazard.”

  Menos spared Stiger an unhappy look before returning his gaze to the fire. “I’m not telling.”

  Stiger gave a grunt as he poured the noctalum a healthy portion of wine and handed it over. He returned to his seat. Menos sipped at the wine, seeming to savor the taste.

  “You decided to keep Venthus, apparently,” Menos said, not sounding too happy about that.

  “In a manner of speaking. One could say it was the other way round,” Stiger said. “I think he kept me.”

  “He’s a slave,” Menos said. “You are the master.”

  “Not much of a master. I think our relationship will remain the way it is as long as it suits him. I see no reason to rock that particular boat. Especially since we both know what he is. Do you disagree?”

  Shaking his head once, Menos took another sip of wine. “I do not.”

  “How is Currose?”

  “Gravely injured, but healing,” Menos said. “It took much time, Will, and effort to help keep her from succumbing. Fighting both a minion of Castor and a wizard by yourself is not an easy undertaking, even for a noctalum. It is a wonder she survived the experience. I would be lost without her.”

  “I am pleased she will recover,” Stiger said, wondering how long the two noctalum had been mated, how many thousands of years had passed.

  Menos gave a simple nod. “Me as well. It will be some time before she is ready to rejoin the fight, many months, I think. Longer…maybe.”

  “I wish her a speedy recovery,” Stiger said. He hoped she recovered sooner, for he was certain they would need all the help they could get in the weeks and months ahead.

  “I will pass that along to her. She will appreciate your well wishes, even if they are from a human.”

  Stiger took another pull on his pipe and blew out a stream of smoke. “She never did take a shine to me.”

  “She believes you are a bad influence,” Menos said. “Especially after Ka’Teg.”

  “All on account of what happened on that journey to see the elves?” Stiger asked. “She’s still upset about that?”

  Menos gave a shrug of his shoulders. “It was a close thing. We both almost died.”

  “You might have considered not telling her what happened, you know,” Stiger said. “Did that thought ever occur to you?”

  “I conceal nothing from my mate. Besides, it is hard to hide something like that…especially after a release of such energy and Will. She was able to sense that all the way back to the mountain.” Menos waved a dismissive hand at Stiger. “That’s ancient history now.”

  “Not so ancient for me,” Stiger said, “or for Currose, apparently.”

  “My mate has a long memory,” Menos said. “She does not easily forget. So, you are still a bad influence.”

  “Might I remind you it was your idea to stop to see that dormant volcano, not mine.”

  “I wanted to see the ruins of Ka’Teg, not the volcano.”

  “Same thing,” Stiger said, “since those ruins were built on the slope of the volcano and you mentioned those hot springs. You wanted to take a—how did you put it? ‘A relaxing dip,’ I do think those were your very words.”

  It was Menos’s turn to give a grunt.

  “Those gnomes,” Stiger said, “were plenty surprised when we dropped in on them and their religious ceremony.”

  “Yes, they were a little shaken.” Menos looked suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Shaken?” Stiger gave a laugh. “I think several fainted from shock alone.”

  “Who knew that bunch worshiped dragons,” Menos said. “I have no idea on how that madness got started. I suppose gnomes just don’t think like the other races.”

  “They wanted to keep you, oh great and magnificent God Dragon,” Stiger said with amusement. “They almost succeeded too.”

  “It did not end well for them. Those gnomes were quite angry with us.”

  “In the making of our escape, we did kind of set off that volcano,” Stiger said. “It destroyed their home and temple.”

  “Volcanoes will do that, you know,” Menos said. “That was your idea, by the way, hence Currose seeing you as a bad influence. It’s not everyone who goes around causing dormant volcanoes to blow their tops.”

  “I guess not,” Stiger said and blew out a stream of smoke. “I could not have done it without your help.”

  “Of course not. The end result was certainly something to see.”

  “That is a bit of an understatement.” Stiger paused a moment, looking over at the noctalum. “Think our gnomes know what happened and that it was us? The little bastards tend to hold grudges.”

  Menos was silent for a long moment. “I don’t think our gnomes and those we encountered at Ka’Teg have contact. At least, I hope not. If they do, it could pose a problem, especially if they figure out it was us. Thank the gods this batch don’t worship dragons.”

  Both fell into silence again.

  “I hate to admit that the old wizard was right,” Menos said, after a time. “Had I known what I
know of our history together, there is a very good chance I might have acted differently when you first met me in the Gate room and inadvertently changed events to come.”

  “Likely true,” Stiger said. “I know I would have.”

  “There are very few humans I’ve ever grown to like. Well, let’s be honest…no one else really. You are the exception.”

  Stiger understood the truth of the statement. The two of them had been through a lot together. “I’ve missed our chats, my friend.”

  “Since I did not remember,” Menos said, “it wasn’t much of a problem. You cannot miss something you don’t recall.”

  “I leave before dawn,” Stiger said after another brief silence.

  “I know,” Menos said. “Braddock kept me informed of your plans. I could deal with that army out there, should you wish it. Make things a little easier for you.”

  “I had given it some serious thought,” Stiger admitted, “but decided not to ask for your assistance in handling them.”

  “Why not?” Menos asked. “I would make short work of it and quickly scatter them to the winds.”

  “I have my reasons,” Stiger said.

  Menos turned his gaze from the fire. “You do not wish the enemy to know you have a pair of noctalum working with you, do you? You want to keep the Cyphan and Valoor’s priests ignorant of that little fact, until you really need us.”

  “In truth, that was my main thinking on the matter. Braddock agrees too.” Stiger was not at all surprised Menos had figured it out. “I fear the challenges ahead will be great. We will need every possible advantage just to succeed. Also, such an attack would surely scatter many thousands of the enemy out into the forest. One or two might make it back and report what they saw.” Stiger paused. “I also don’t want to have to worry about isolated bands of the enemy interdicting the road, preying upon my supply line to the point where I need to provide an armed escort, leaching my effective strength.” Stiger shook his pipe at Menos. “I want to bag as many as I can. Besides, should you be agreeable, I have something far more important for you to do.”