“Not elves,” Eli said, sounding slightly distressed. “It is one of the worst transgressions. Remember, we cherish life.”
Stiger gave an absent nod. Though they cherished life, as Eli said, he knew elves to be extremely efficient killers. It had been a miracle Stiger had survived the assassination attempt. Had it not been for Rarokan’s intervention, both he and Taha’Leeth would likely be dead.
He turned his gaze back to the fire and poked at it again with the stick. He was terribly worried about Taha’Leeth. Once he had received word the surgeon and Venthus were finished working on her, he’d stopped by the sick tents to get an update. They were unable to give him one, other than what they had done treatment-wise. Her wound had been cleaned, sown up, and bandaged.
When he’d seen her, she had been unconscious and terribly pale, a result of the loss of so much blood. Venthus had both insisted and assured him he would not leave her side until Stiger returned.
“Do what you must. No matter what happens,” Venthus had said, “I will protect her life with my own.”
There had been nothing for Stiger to do, nothing that could help anyway. So, he’d thrown himself into his work at preparing the legion for battle. Now that he’d done all that he could, Stiger had ordered a fire made for himself and Eli.
He’d thought about returning to the encampment and visiting Taha’Leeth, but then disregarded that idea. With the enemy so close at hand, he could not afford to leave the legion. He would not risk the potential effect it might have on morale.
In a few hours, there would be a battle. It was likely to be the most difficult and trying fight he had ever faced. The enemy had stolen a march and surprised him. That irritated Stiger.
They would be fighting by themselves. With the numbers he had on hand, he did not know if he could even hold long enough for reinforcement to arrive. It all depended on how long it took the enemy to fully bring their own army to bear upon him, or really when the actual fighting began.
It was in Stiger’s advantage to delay the start of a battle. But he very much doubted they would wait that long before striking at him. His isolation was the reason they had stolen a march. The enemy general would be looking to take advantage of that.
If he confined himself to the defensive walls of the encampment, he would have difficulty coordinating with Braddock’s dwarves when they arrived and, for that matter, linking up with him. The enemy might bottle the legion up with just enough combat power to make a breakout a costly affair.
He had thought about a withdrawal but had disregarded that idea. He felt he could not withdraw without affecting the morale of the legion. After weeks of marching, it might be viewed by the men as fleeing before the enemy. He could not have that.
No, he must stand and fight. His men were well trained and ready. They had seen what the Cyphan had done to the population of the South. And now, they knew what had happened to Taha’Leeth, how the enemy had struck in the dead of night with assassins. Getting past them and attacking their legate really stung the legion’s pride. A pulse of simmering anger could be felt upon the line. In Stiger’s estimation, the men wanted payback.
“We’ve come a long way,” Eli said, looking up from the fire and breaking the long silence between them.
“All the way from Vrell,” Stiger agreed.
“I meant you and I,” Eli said. “We have seen a lot, done more than most.”
“I did my best to keep things exciting for you. I think you might agree.”
Eli pulled his canteen from his pack, which sat on the ground to his right. Next to the pack lay a leather-wrapped bundle of arrows and his bow. Eli unstopped the canteen and took a drink.
The elf swallowed a mouthful of water. “It helped pass the time.”
Stiger gave a disbelieving grunt.
“I could use a little more excitement,” Eli said, returning his gaze back to the flames as he set the canteen down on the ground next to his stool.
Stiger chuckled and found it felt good to laugh, just a little. The banter was an old game between them. Still, he knew his friend was attempting to distract him, to lighten his mood…if only for a little while. He was grateful for that and for Eli’s company. Looking over at his friend, he realized that something remained unresolved between them.
“Eli”—Stiger cleared his throat—“I want to thank you.”
“For what?” Eli asked, looking up from the fire.
“For your friendship,” Stiger said, “for everything over the years…especially for what you did after my lashing. I would not be the man I am today without you.”
Eli looked over at him with a funny, almost embarrassed expression.
“I should be the one thanking you,” Eli said after a long moment.
“Oh?” That surprised Stiger.
“You have given my people hope,” Eli said.
“Hope?” Stiger asked, confused. “How?”
“Yes, hope,” Eli affirmed. “They may not realize it yet…but had you not taken up the mantle of the High Father, my people would still be sitting at home, shutting the world out. Even now, they would have been deliberately ignoring all that goes on, pretending our forests were all that mattered. Because of you, the warden felt compelled to act. Now, we are once again an active participant in events. It’s hard to ignore things that way.”
Stiger said nothing for a long moment as he absorbed what Eli had just told him. He decided he would refuse to be deterred or sidetracked. “I meant what I said, Eli. I owe you a great deal.”
“You do.” Eli flashed him a grin. “You can pay me back with a little more excitement, okay?”
“Excitement,” Stiger said, “is something I’ve never craved. I believe I have told you that on more than one occasion.”
“You say that,” Eli said, “but we both know that’s not true. Otherwise you would have gone into another profession, like basket weaving or something.”
Stiger laughed again, then sobered. “You know, I almost became a farmer.”
Dog picked his head up and growled softly. Stiger glanced over to see someone was approaching. He stiffened as he realized who it was. Eli followed his gaze and hastily stood. Stiger’s guard moved to stop the newcomer, a woman.
“It’s all right,” Stiger called, before there could be an issue. “Let her through.”
The guards moved aside. Stiger came to his feet. As she approached their fire, Eli bowed respectfully to the woman, who was in the prime of her life. She was tall and very attractive. She had a regal bearing and wore a shimmering silver dress that seemed out of place on such a dreary day.
Her hair was silver, perhaps almost with a metallic cast to it. With her almond-shaped eyes, pointed ears, and the vigor of youthfulness without aging, she had the look of an elf, but Stiger knew she was anything but.
She was so graceful, she seemed to glide toward them, her long dress whispering softly over the winter-browned grass. Stiger had once before seen her in this form. But he had not expected to see her again so soon.
“Currose,” Stiger greeted, “it is good to see you well. I thought you were injured and had decided to remain in Old City.”
The noctalum came to a stop before them and brought the palm of her hand to her stomach. “I am still healing, inside. It will be many months before I fully recover. Still, despite his objections, I could not leave my mate to face what he will this day. Even in a weakened state I had to come. You understand this, yes?”
“I do,” Stiger said and then beckoned toward a free stool. “Would you care to join us and share our fire?”
“Thank you,” Currose said, stepping up to the fire. “That is quite gracious of you.” She held out her hands and warmed them over the fire. “When I take this form, I always feel chilled. How do you stay warm wearing only a tunic and cloak, let alone something as flimsy as this dress?”
“I suppose,” Stiger said, thinking it was a good question, “you sort of get used to it.”
“I don’t see how,”
Currose said.
“Stay in that form long enough and you might just begin to understand,” Eli said.
“I don’t believe I care to,” Currose replied as she rubbed her hands together before the fire. “It takes effort to maintain this form and, as I said, it’s terribly uncomfortable. Besides, I’ve never much enjoyed shape-shifting, not like my mate, who loves to wander and meddle with mortals.” She shot Stiger a meaningful look. “Over the long years, such behavior has led to a problem or two.”
“You cannot still blame me for that,” Stiger said. “The whole thing with the volcano was hardly my fault.”
“So you and my mate keep telling me,” Currose said. “However, I wasn’t referring to that specific incident.”
“Oh,” Stiger said, “right.”
Raising a delicate eyebrow, Currose took a seat on the free stool, sitting between the two of them. Eli looked from her to Stiger with extreme curiosity as he sat down too. Stiger returned to his stool.
“What of the World Gate?” Stiger asked, hoping to change the subject. Eli had no business knowing the history Currose was hinting at. It would require an explanation of events he was unwilling to go into. Thoggle had specifically warned him against doing so.
“What of it?” Currose leaned forward toward the fire and held out her hands again. “The World Gate is useless to anyone now. There’s not a wizard on this world with the stored Will required to open or manipulate it…not anymore. The only way that Gate is opening is with the Key. And then, the doorway to Tanis cannot be unlocked for some months to come. With the dwarves guarding the Gate, I feel it perfectly safe.”
Stiger was not too sure about that, but he did not feel like contradicting her. On the eve of battle, this was no time for a disagreement. What was done, was done. He would address it later.
“I did leave a few, shall we say, surprises behind,” Currose said, “in the event I am mistaken in my assumptions.”
“Surprises?” Eli asked.
“Nasty surprises,” Currose said and then looked back to Stiger. “Besides, even in my weakened state, you have greater need for me here this day, considering all that you face.”
“I cannot disagree with that,” Stiger said. “I think before all is said and done, I will need all the help I can get.”
“I, for one,” Eli said, “am grateful for your presence, noble lady.”
Currose gave a slight nod of her head. She turned her attention to Dog, who was looking at her. She studied him for a moment, then turned back to Stiger.
“I see you’ve kept that ragged pet of yours,” Currose said.
“You know as well as I, he is no pet,” Stiger said.
Currose gave an amused grunt. Dog, as if bored, lay back down again and rolled onto his side.
“I have seen Taha’Leeth,” Currose said. “Before coming to see you, I visited the sick tent.”
Stiger sat up straight.
“Venthus is with her. But I am certain you already know that. He and the surgeon did what they could,” Currose said. “She is not out of danger…yet…but that elf is strong. Her Will is very powerful…very powerful. This is no promise, but I believe she will recover.” The noctalum paused, as if thinking on what she wanted to say next. “I did not want to alarm them with my presence. Your surgeons thought I was one of their assistants. To improve her chances at survival, I lent her some of my own Will. It should be enough to see her through the worst of it.”
Stiger let out a relieved breath, intensely grateful. He had not expected this from Currose. She’d always been cool to him, cold even. “I…I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You can thank me by seeing this mess through to the end,” Currose said. “My small efforts will mean little to her life if you are not successful in this confrontation.”
Stiger gave a nod. “I thank you just the same. She has become quite important to me.”
“I did not understand why you kept that black paladin around,” Currose said, changing the subject. “I was quite opposed to it.”
Eli looked over at Stiger. It was clear he was wondering who Currose was referring to. Stiger had no intention of telling him. That also was something Thoggle had cautioned him about.
“And now?” Stiger asked. She fully had his attention. It had been a bone of contention between them before he went into stasis.
“Now, I do,” Currose said. “That does not mean I approve, but I understand.”
“I figured as much,” Stiger said.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence.
“Taha’Leeth is expecting,” Stiger said after a few heartbeats.
“I know,” Currose said. “This is another reason why I came.”
Stiger hesitated before asking what he badly wished to know. He was almost afraid to ask. A feeling of dread settled over him. “Will the baby survive?”
“That is difficult to say,” Currose said. “Taha’Leeth was gravely injured. She lost a great deal of blood and that may have affected the baby. Only time will tell. If it is meant to be, it will be. If not…”
Stiger turned his gaze into the fire, feeling wretched. His thoughts shifted to the future. A baby had been part of that future. He poked almost despondently at the fire with the stick, sending a shower of sparks up into the air.
“They will keep coming,” Stiger said, “and won’t stop.”
“Unless they are stopped first,” Currose said. “That is the struggle and why we are here. Their objective is the end game, control of the Gate. They will do anything to achieve that goal…anything. There are times we must do the same, no matter how distasteful.”
“I understand,” Stiger said.
“Do you?”
“I do,” Stiger said, and then something occurred to him. “Menos sent you, didn’t he?”
“He did.”
“Where is he?”
“Nearby,” Currose said, “and waiting.”
“With the Vass and other dragons?” Stiger asked.
“Yes,” Currose said. “When the time comes, we shall be ready. You need not concern yourself with the enemy’s wyrms. I assure you, they will have other things to focus on than your army.”
“Good,” Stiger said.
“I thought you would be pleased with that news,” Currose said.
“I am very pleased. Now, I just need to figure out how to hold until reinforcement arrives. Heck, I don’t even know if they are coming.”
“They are,” Currose said. “Menos asked me to pass that along. The dwarves and elves are marching.”
“He’s sure?” Stiger felt immense relief at hearing that. “But will they get here in time?”
“He’s sure, yes. He sent one of the taltalum to see,” Currose said. “Whether or not they arrive in time to save your legion, I do not know.”
TWENTY-TWO
Stiger ducked out of his headquarters tent and strode over to Beck, the legion’s Eagle-bearer. Beck had been standing with the Eagle and its accompanying guard, just off to the side of the field headquarters. On Stiger’s orders, Beck had been waiting for him. Eli followed a few steps after, as did Dog. Stiger’s personal guard, who had been waiting outside headquarters, fell in around him, creating a protective bubble.
Legionary standard-bearers usually were issued a wolf’s pelt, but one had not been available. However, Beck was now wearing a tiger’s pelt. The day before he’d not had it.
“There’s something different about you, Beck,” Stiger said, glancing over at the Eagle guard. An entire century from First Cohort had the honor of protecting the Eagle. Each man was a hard-charging veteran, willing to readily sacrifice their own lives in defense of the Eagle. The Eagle represented not only the legion’s honor, but the empire’s as well.
“Can’t imagine what that is, sir,” Beck replied with a straight face. He absently straightened the tiger pelt, of which the tiger’s face sat over his helmet.
“Where’d you get that?” Stiger asked. It wasn’t the Eighty-Fifth’s
tiger pelt. Stiger’s old company was formed up with First Cohort less than twenty yards away as his reserve. He could see the company’s standard, still draped with the tiger pelt that had adorned Captain Aveeno’s throne in Castle Vrell.
“One of the dwarves delivered it,” Beck answered. “Said it was a gift from Thane Braddock. Somehow the Thane found out about our tradition. He did not have a wolf pelt, but he did have a tiger’s pelt and sent it over. It arrived last night and the camp prefect gave it to me, sir.”
“Might as well call the Thirteenth the Tiger’s Legion,” Eli said.
Stiger shot his friend a scowl.
“I already have a company named after me,” Stiger said. “I don’t think I need to add a legion to that.”
“Do you approve, sir?” Beck asked. It was clear he was exceptionally proud of the new pelt, as it distinguished him from the rest of the legion. The post of bearing the legion’s honor was an important one, and the pelt was more than appropriate in Stiger’s estimation.
“I do,” Stiger said, then sobered and got down to business. “After I deploy the legion, you stick with me today. Wherever I go, you go too, unless I tell you otherwise. It is going to be a hard day. The men must see me with the Eagle. Even if I go forward to fight, you follow. Our example will give the rest of the legion courage. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Beck tightened his grip on the staff. “I will be right there with you, sir, and I won’t let anything happen to the Eagle.”
“Good.” With one more glance at the tiger’s pelt, he turned away toward a group of the legion’s senior officers who were clustered about Salt. Stiger had asked that his senior officers be assembled. He had wanted to address them personally, before the battle began. Therik also stood with the officers.
He started over, leaving Beck behind. Eli and Dog went with him. From his officers, as he neared, Stiger sensed the grim tension that was common on the eve of battle. It was born of the uncertainty of what the next few hours would bring. He felt it himself, as did everyone else in the legion to one degree or another.
The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5) Page 37