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

by Marc Edelheit

  That supported the theory that the enemy was also looking to resupply themselves by sea. But wouldn’t they have to come back if they wanted to get to Vrell and the World Gate? Perhaps, Stiger considered, they just wanted to make sure that there was no opposition for when they returned? That potentially told him the lengths his enemy would go.

  “What I saw, sir,” Hux said, “will haunt me for the remainder of my days. My boys are fairly riled up. They are in no mood to take prisoners, sir, and ever since Aeda it has been an effort to get them to do so. I would expect the same sentiment to spread through the army as it advances, sir.”

  “I understand,” Stiger fell silent for several moments. He took a pull from his pipe as he considered what Hux had reported. He looked back up. “I have a mission for you.”

  “Me and my boys are ready,” Hux said. “What would you have us do, sir?”

  “You will lead a reconnaissance in force,” Stiger said, “to the city of Lorium.”

  “Lorium,” Hux said. “Where the legions are holed up? Is that where the army is going?”

  “Yes,” Stiger said. “If legionaries are still holding that city, I plan on relieving them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hux said.

  Stiger read the excitement in the other’s eyes. Hux was the right man for this job. “I need to know the size and composition of the enemy army besieging the city. Do you think you can get me that information and return?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “How many men will you need?” Stiger asked.

  “At least two hundred of my troopers, sir,” Hux said.

  “So many?” Stiger was concerned about depleting the army’s protective screen.

  “You asked how many of my boys I will need to do the job, sir,” Hux said. “More would be better, but that’s what I would consider the minimum. I would not want to deplete the legion’s screening force any more than it will be, sir.”

  “The minimum, huh?”

  “We’re going to have to bring a sizable force. That is, if I’m to get through the enemy patrols. There will be fighting. I will take one hundred with me…go in fast and hard, thoroughly eyeball Lorium and enemy army…then leg it. I will keep the second half of the force a few miles back and waiting. With any luck, the enemy will get themselves organized and send a good number of their cavalry after us, to chase us off. We might be able to pull off an ambush while we are at it.”

  Stiger gave a nod of understanding. He understood a larger force would have a better chance of pulling off what he was asking Hux to do. He also wanted the job done right, and Hux was the finest commander of cavalry that Stiger had ever known.

  “Take three hundred of your horse soldiers,” Stiger said. “Do it right and bring back as many of our boys as you can. Also…if you can cut down a chunk of their cavalry…make that happen. I would deprive the enemy of as many of their eyes as possible.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Stiger took another pull on his pipe.

  “You look as if you need some rest,” Stiger said. “Come find me first thing in the morning. Before you depart, I would hear more on what you have seen.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hux drained the rest of his wine and returned the empty mug to the table before moving for the door. He came to attention and saluted. “Thank you for the wine, sir,” Hux said and then stepped out into the night.

  His thoughts on what had been done to Aeda, Stiger took another puff on his pipe. It never got any easier. Whenever and wherever there was war, civilians suffered terribly. He had seen it all too often. It never got any easier.

  “You look unhappy.”

  Taha’Leeth had entered the tent. He’d left orders with the guard that she was to be admitted without question whenever she wanted. He felt a thrill at seeing her. The unhappiness over Aeda and Menos lessened slightly.

  “I am,” Stiger said. “As you know, Menos is missing. Ogg tells me he may have died or left this world or gone far away. He does not know for sure. I’m worried.”

  “Left this world?” Taha’Leeth said. “That is not possible.”

  Stiger eyed her for a long moment.

  “Ogg thinks there is a chance the other World Gate is still working,” Stiger said.

  She froze, staring at him incredulously. “That also is not possible. It was I who destroyed the Gate. There is no way anyone can use it.”

  “Then he must be dead,” Stiger said and felt a wave of grief.

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Taha’Leeth said, “and saddened that such an ancient creature passed from this world.”

  Stiger felt his grief continue to well up. He fought it back.

  “One day,” Stiger said, “you will have to tell me how you did it, the destruction of the Gate.”

  “One day,” Taha’Leeth agreed, “but not today. That is a story I do not enjoy telling.”

  Stiger felt his heart beat a little faster as she stepped nearer and reached down a hand to stroke his cheek.

  “I did not think to tell you of the wyrm,” Taha’Leeth said. “I really thought you knew.”

  Stiger gave a simple nod.

  “It was never my intention to mislead you, my love,” Taha’Leeth said, running a hand down his arm. “I ask you not to be angry with me.”

  “Well, there is nothing to be done about it now, and in truth I’m not sure it would have changed anything.” Stiger paused. His concerns and worries had retreated a little with her presence. “I am not angry with you. Just being here…you have brightened my night.”

  She leaned down, kissing him on his forehead. Then she scowled slightly at the pipe. He thought it made her look more beautiful to him.

  “That is a disgusting habit.”

  “One that I have come to enjoy,” Stiger said. “Smoking the occasional pipe is one of my few vices.”

  “I would hear what other vices you have,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “I should think that obvious,” Stiger said.

  “Oh?”

  “You, for one.”

  She laughed again and Stiger found the sound was quite pleasant. He enjoyed hearing her laugh. He could use more of that himself.

  He grinned back at her and then his thoughts returned to Menos. He felt the grin fade from his face.

  “I was prepared to ease your mind of your worries in other ways,” Taha’Leeth said, “but I think you need a friend right now, more than a lover. How about we sit together for a while and talk?”

  Stiger gave a nod. “I would like that, very much.” His gaze went to the tent flap, wondering who would next arrive to demand some time.

  “We won’t be disturbed,” Taha’Leeth said, spotting the look. “I told your guards no one is to disturb us until morning.”

  “You did, did you?”

  She grabbed a stool and brought it next to his and sat down. Stiger held out his hand and she took it. Though it was rough and calloused, her hand felt warm. He loved holding her hand. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Stiger sucked in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly. She smelled faintly of roses. Despite his concerns and worries, he felt somewhat better. His thoughts returned to Menos and he suddenly chuckled.

  “What is funny?” Taha’Leeth lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him.

  “We are,” Stiger said.

  “How so?”

  “Well, you destroyed a World Gate,” Stiger said, “and I sort of blew the top off a volcano. I am not sure which one is more impressive.”

  “You did what?” she asked.

  “It was a pretty big explosion. You could see it for miles around. Pissed off a bunch of gnomes too. Boy did they want blood.” He laughed at the memory.

  “A volcano? How?”

  “I didn’t do it all by myself. I had some help,” Stiger confessed.

  “Menos?” Taha’Leeth tilted her head to the side. The movement reminded Stiger of Eli. “This I must hear.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” Stige
r asked. “It is rather a long story, though it is a funny one…unless you were one of those gnomes.”

  “I believe we both need a drink.” Taha’Leeth stood and went to the wine. She poured them both a mug and returned. “I am very sure I want to hear this. Now, enough stalling. Start talking.”

  Stiger hesitated a moment, thinking with sadness on the fate of his friend. He took a sip of his wine and settled in to tell her the story.

  EIGHTEEN

  Stiger sat astride Nomad. He’d pulled the horse to a stop. Behind him, along the King’s Highway, marched the legion. His horse shifted, taking several steps sideways to the left. Nomad was unsettled. Stiger absently tightened his grip on the reins and steadied his mount, then slapped his thigh in frustration.

  The city of Aeda, tucked into the center of a wide valley, lay less than a mile downslope. It was nestled closely alongside a small river that was brownish in color. Aeda had never been the most beautiful of cities. When Stiger and Eli had passed through on their way to the Southern legions, he’d thought the city seedy and run down.

  Once, long ago, Aeda had been the seat of power for a king. Now, it was a shadow of what it had once been. The stone walls that had surrounded the city had been pulled down. The city itself had been burned and thoroughly wrecked. All that remained were the shells of what had once been buildings and the dead.

  Dog gave a soft whine.

  “I know, boy,” Stiger said, glancing down at the animal. Dog was looking in the direction of the city as well. “It’s not quite fair, now, is it?”

  There was no answer from Dog.

  Stiger understood that in war there was no fairness. There never was.

  The dead were lying in the fields that surrounded the city, masses of them. Flocks of vultures and ravens circled above, so many that they looked like a cloud of insects hovering around the city. An innumerable number of birds were on the ground too, feasting upon the rotting corpses. The ground seemed to almost undulate, like the surface of a lake on a stormy day.

  Even this far removed, the sickly stench of death was strong on the air. It was not a pleasant fragrance and something Stiger had never become accustomed. Death mixed with the smell of smoke, which was also quite powerful, as the wind was blowing in their direction. It made him feel ill.

  “Do you want to go down there, sir?” Lan asked.

  The lieutenant and his troop were his escort for the day, as Stiger had decided to ride up the column of march and be seen by the men. He looked over at Lan. The lieutenant was grim-faced, as were his men. No one was enjoying what they were seeing. Stiger could not blame them.

  Over the last three days, the road had passed by several villages and small towns. All had seen the same treatment as Aeda. An ugly mood had worked its way through the legion. It was one of the reasons he’d made an effort to make himself more visible. He wanted that anger directed and channeled toward the enemy. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, he’d spoken on paying the enemy back.

  Stiger looked once more toward the city. He knew he’d never forget the sight. It was now forever seared into his memory. No matter how long he lived, what had been done here would be with him.

  “We can go down there,” Lan said, when Stiger did not immediately reply, “if you like, sir.”

  Stiger glanced over at the lieutenant. The bruises and cuts to his face had long since healed. His cheeks were red from the cold and his lips were chapped and cracked.

  “No,” Stiger said and touched his heels to Nomad’s flanks. The horse started walking. “I don’t need to go closer. I’ve seen enough death.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lan appeared relieved as he nudged his horse into a walk. “Forward!” The lieutenant waved his hand forward for the rest of the troop to continue.

  Ahead of them, on both sides of the road, were the bodies of imperial citizens who had been crucified. Every ten yards there were two more bodies, facing each other from across the road. Stiger had been told it continued that way for more than ten miles. The sight of the rotting bodies sickened him. Blood and gore had seeped down the wooden poles. Ravens and other birds had worried at the flesh until some of the figures were barely recognizable as once having been human.

  “I think it would be a mercy to cut them down,” Lan said as he rode alongside Stiger.

  Stiger’s voice when he replied was gruff. “They remain where they are.”

  “But, sir,” Lan said, “it seems like the right thing to do.”

  “Lieutenant, we cannot take the time to care for the dead.” Stiger gestured to a woman barely out of her teens who had been nailed to a cross. Her death must have been unimaginably hard. “She, like the rest of them, are beyond saving. One day, perhaps if there is time…we will come back and clean up. However, I will not slow the army…I dare not…for we must look to the living. Do you understand?”

  Lan gave a miserable nod as they rode past two more bodies that had been crucified. One of them was a child, no older than seven. A man in Lan’s troop retched at the sight, leaning over the side of his horse and spilling the contents of his stomach onto the dirt of the roadway.

  They rode in silence after that, moving around a heavy wagon. In its bed was a large bolt thrower of gnome design. The oversized bolts, designed to kill a dragon, were strapped to the sides of the wagon. A group of gnomes rode in the wagon and a team of men, all auxiliaries, followed just behind. They were there to assist, for the machine could be set up quickly and operated from the wagon itself. Each cohort had at least one such bolt thrower wagon.

  The gnomes swore the bolts would work and, in the past, machines like it had been used to take down smaller dragons, like wyrms. Having seen a dragon and fought one up close, Stiger wasn’t so sure how effective they would be. Still, some protection was better than none, and he readily took what the gnomes offered.

  They passed the wagon and rode along next to Eighth Cohort. Stiger had never heard such silence from marching men. It was as if they dared not speak, for it might wake the dead. But in truth, he knew they were grim and in an ugly mood.

  He looked at two more bodies, both men in the middle years of their life. Stiger turned his gaze to the road ahead, lined with more of the dead. This was a sign. The enemy had intended to make a statement. He had no doubt it was meant for him and his men. Hux had been right. The enemy well knew they were coming.

  It had also been meant to intimidate. And that’s where the enemy had made a fatal mistake. They had misjudged the imperials. Instead of being frightened or intimidated, the murdering of innocent civilians had angered the army as a whole, and terribly so. Even the gnomes seemed upset.

  Stiger could not have given his men better motivation as to why, day after day, they suffered through a brutal march. Each man would remember what they’d seen. He was sure of it.

  The army had been marching north for ten long days. Stiger estimated they were covering a good fifteen to twenty miles a day. It was a brutal pace and grind, but one he and Braddock felt they needed to keep up.

  Just five to six days away lay Lorium and the enemy. He’d not received a report from Hux yet on the enemy’s strength but figured that would come any time. A battle would likely happen within the next week. That was good, for Aeda would be fresh to mind and the men would be looking to avenge themselves.

  Stiger increased Nomad’s pace, with Dog keeping up. After seeing the wreckage of the city, he wanted to ride for a bit and not just crawl along the column. He turned the horse off the road and out into a field that buttressed up against the highway and increased his pace even more. Lan and his troop easily kept up, following a few yards behind.

  The countryside around Aeda was gentle and rolling. It had been dotted with farms and plantations, but all that was left were ruins and ashes. The land was empty of people. Stiger found that incredibly depressing. It fueled his anger, more than the sword ever had.

  He continued until they were miles from the road. Only then did he slow Nomad to a walk. The grass was
long and flowed gently with the breeze. Nomad bent his head and took a swipe at the grass. There were no ruins nearby, nothing that hinted at the destruction that had been wrought upon the region. The ever-present smell of death and smoke was gone. It seemed like a peaceful enough spot.

  Stiger pulled Nomad to a stop. He slid off his horse and down into the tall grass, which came up almost to his knees. He took a deep breath and looked around a moment, then knelt and bowed his head in prayer. Dog padded over and sat down by his side.

  Behind him, he heard the jingle and chink of armor as Lan dismounted. Then a moment later the entire troop slid off their horses. Stiger looked up. He was surprised to see the men kneeling with him in the grass. Their eyes were upon him.

  “So be it,” Stiger whispered to himself and then addressed himself to the men. “Let us pray for the souls of the departed.”

  They bowed their heads respectfully.

  “High Father,” Stiger said in a strong tone, “what was done to the people of this region was wrong and barbaric. There is no excuse for it. We ask that you take the souls of the departed into your arms, ease their suffering, and let them know peace in the afterlife.” Stiger paused, thinking on what he desired to say next. It needed to be inspiring, for word of what happened here would spread quickly throughout the army. “We, the legion…the army…will be your sword of justice, your spear of righteousness as we move forward, seeking to right this terrible wrong. We will be your holy shield…for those in our homeland who are unable to protect themselves.” He paused briefly. “In your name we pray.”

  “In your name we pray,” the men said in unison.

  Stiger stood and, with him, the men stood as well. They were grim-faced, solemn. Stiger glanced up at the sky. An eagle circled high above, almost directly overhead. Was it a sign from the High Father? He returned his attention to the men. They were all staring skyward. It was clear they were thinking the same thing.

  Without another word, he mounted back up, settled himself into the saddle, and nudged nomad back into a walk. His escort followed. Dog raced ahead, disappearing into a small stand of trees.