“Sir,” Salt said as he joined them. The camp prefect offered a smart salute for the gathered officers. “As requested, they’re all here, sir.”
Stiger motioned for the officers to gather around him. They did so in a half-circle, Therik amongst them. Unlike the others, the orc looked eager for what was coming.
“Gentlemen,” Stiger said, “the enemy is just over that rise, about a quarter mile distant. As we speak, they are forming a line of battle. Only a portion of their army has arrived. In a few moments, we will deploy the legion to the top of the rise, hill, whatever you want to call it. That rise is ours. It belongs to us and will remain imperial property. We own it. The enemy wants to take it from us. Under no circumstances will they dislodge us from the summit. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” came the unified chorus from his senior officers.
He paused, meeting their gazes. It was important he projected confidence, strength, and a sense that he was in control. They would feed off that.
“Last night,” Stiger said, “the enemy struck in a cowardly manner. They did so to kill me, because they have doubts about the outcome of the coming battle. That said, they stole a march on us, and now our allies are marching to our aid. They will arrive over the next few hours. When exactly, I do not know. But they are coming. That’s what matters. So, we will hold until they get here…we must hold, gentlemen…and in doing so, we will make those bastards out there bleed. They will pay a steep price for testing our lines. We will hold until the rest of our army arrives. Then we will throw them back. That is our job this day, and make no mistake…it will be a hard one.”
“We will hold, sir,” Salt said.
“Aye, sir,” Nantus added firmly. “We will be immovable as a stone wall.”
“You can count on First Cohort, sir,” Sabinus said, glancing around at the cohort commanders, “just as I am sure you can rely on the rest of the legion.”
“I know I can,” Stiger said, and he knew it to be true. His officers and men would give it their all. “The last few weeks have been grueling to say the least. The march getting here has been hard and long, with few breaks. I am proud of each of you and of the legion. I feel blessed to have your trust and I am personally honored to lead you.”
A distant massed cheer reached them. Stiger turned toward the rise, just yards away. From its top, he could see cavalry scouts, whose job it was to watch the enemy. The shout had come from that direction. The rise wasn’t much, but it meant he and his men would have the good ground.
“Gentlemen,” Stiger said as a second massed cheer rang on the air, “the enemy seems to be in fine spirits. If there were any doubts amongst you, it appears we’re going to have a fight today.”
The group chuckled politely. It was a poor jest, but at times like this, any attempt at levity was generally welcomed.
“You have your orders. I just want to add a few things and then get you right back to your cohorts. Once we move the legion forward, have your men stand easy until otherwise ordered. They can even take a load off and sit. There is no telling how long the enemy will make us wait before they decide to give battle.”
“That’s the army, sir,” Katurus said, “always waiting for someone else to do their job, just so you can do yours.”
There was another round of chuckling. It wasn’t the first time Stiger had heard such sentiments. Waiting was part of every legionary’s life, whether that be officer or enlisted.
“While the men wait,” Stiger continued, “make sure at some point your boys eat and stay watered. As the day wears on, be sure, if circumstances permit, to take advantage of the water and food stores that have been moved up.”
Thunder rumbled loudly, much closer than before. It was as if the gods were grumbling their discontent. Stiger wondered if it was a bad omen. He hoped not.
“I don’t think keeping them watered will be a problem, sir,” Quintus said with a glance skyward. “We’re all gonna be wet in short order.”
“Likely so,” Stiger said and then returned to the matter at hand. “The enemy’s marched through the night. They are tired and in need of rest. At best, they have precooked rations; at worst, they have none and perhaps little water. Our men will be going into battle both fed and rested.” Stiger pointed toward the rise. “That said, when their entire army deploys, we will be seriously outnumbered.” There was some shifting of feet at that. “That’s not the worst of it. They also have dragons.”
The officers shared concerned looks. All of them had seen at least one dragon in action. He doubted any would ever forget that.
“You all saw the battle site and what happened to the emperor’s legions,” Stiger said. “They were burned down where they stood. Our enemy surprised the legions with a weapon they were unprepared to face and counter. That will not be happening with us.”
Stiger paused, once again taking the time to meet the gazes of his senior officers before continuing.
“We have dragons, too,” Stiger said.
That caused a stir.
“We do, sir?” Vargus asked. “As in more than one?”
“More than one,” Stiger said. “Sian Tane has brought more than enough friends to neutralize the enemy’s dragons and keep them off us. But that still does not mean the fight ahead will be an easy one. We cannot count on any help from our dragons in defeating the enemy’s soldiers. We will have to defeat that army out there the old-fashioned way, with sword, spear, and shield.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Nantus said, “but where are our dragons? I don’t see them.”
“Hidden just out of view,” Stiger said. “When we need them, they will come. Count on that. You must make sure the men know the enemy’s dragons should not pose a threat to us. When they appear, we must maintain not only the integrity of our line, but also our discipline. We cannot afford a general panic. If one formation breaks and runs, it will prove our undoing. You need to understand that and so do your junior officers. No matter what, we must keep good order, even if you must kill a man who loses his head as an example to others.”
There were grim and hard looks from his officers at that. Sometimes such examples had to be made. Usually they occurred during desperate moments, such as in the heat of battle. That they happened did not mean anyone had to enjoy it. But all present understood the necessity of maintaining discipline.
“Without discipline,” Salt said, his tone hard as rock, “the legion is nothing. Do what you think best.”
Thunder rumbled again. Stiger felt a raindrop on his arm.
“We lose this battle,” Stiger said, “and it could mean the end of the empire. We must hold until our allies arrive. When our entire army is up and online, we will have the advantage in numbers. Until then, make no mistake, this will be a difficult and desperate fight. Discipline, grit, order, and maintaining the line will see us through the day.”
“Sir,” Nantus asked, “where will you be, in the event we need you?”
“Look for the Eagle,” Stiger said, pointing at Beck. “Wherever that Eagle is on the field, I will be there. Should you have need for any reason, send word immediately.” Stiger paused again as Nantus nodded his understanding. “Any questions so far?”
No one voiced any.
“Very good.” Stiger paused again and looked around the assembled officers. He felt a fondness for them, almost as a father would for his children. “This legion and her auxiliary cohorts are the best the empire has to offer. Each of you are its beating heart. Without your direction and leadership, the legion would be nothing. You set the example by which your men will follow. Always remember that.”
Stiger fell silent for a prolonged moment to allow that to sink in.
“Before the sun sets, the Cyphan will learn the truth of how tough an imperial legion can be.” Stiger paused as he swung his gaze around his gathered officers. “Now, gentlemen, see to your commands, and good luck.”
The officers saluted and broke up. Sabinus remained behind with Salt and Eli. So too
did Therik. The orc was wearing the armor that had been made for him. Though it sort of looked like legionary armor, he still stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Good speech,” Therik said. “You brought a tear to my eye.”
Ignoring the orc, Stiger looked over at his primus pilus in question, wondering why he’d remained.
“Sir,” Sabinus said, without any preamble, “may I ask why First Cohort does not have a place on the line? Why are we in reserve? I would think the auxiliary cohorts would be better suited for that task.”
Stiger knew that he should have expected this conversation. First Cohort was the go-to cohort for the legion. It had the highest ratio of long-service veterans. Not only that, the cohort was double the strength of the other formations. When he needed to plug a hole, pull a cohort back to rest, or reinforce a section of the line, the First would likely get the job, followed by the Eighty-Fifth.
“Sabinus,” Stiger said, “this is likely to be a very hard and protracted fight. I know I will need my best at some point. That is why you are in reserve. I can’t afford to have your boys used up and spent when I need them most. Wherever the greatest need will be…that is where you will be going. That’s why I am holding you and the Eighty-Fifth in reserve. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Sabinus said and gave a firm nod. “Thank you for the explanation, sir.”
“Good,” Stiger said, “tell your boys that, will you? Make sure they understand and they’re ready when I call upon them.”
“I will, sir, and we will be ready for your call.” Sabinus saluted.
Stiger returned the salute and then held out his hand to the centurion. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, and good luck to you too, sir.” Sabinus shook firmly and then moved off.
Stiger turned to Salt, but as he did, pounding hooves drew his attention. One of the scouts was racing down the rise, his horse tearing up chunks of the browned grass as he made a beeline for Stiger.
“Sir.” The trooper saluted as he hastily pulled his horse to a stop. “The enemy is moving forward two formations. It looks like they mean to take the rise. The rest of their line is staying put.”
“Salt,” Stiger said, turning to the prefect, “it’s time. Sound the call to form up.”
“Yes, sir.” Salt looked over to a legionary who had been standing a few feet off with a horn. “You heard the legate. Blow the call to form up.”
The legionary brought the horn to his lips and blew the call. As he blew the horn a second time, it began to rain in a steady drizzle. It was as if the horn call had given the sky permission to let loose. Stiger glanced up at the sky unhappily. The clouds above were thick and angry-looking.
Almost immediately after the second call ceased, officers across the legion began shouting for their men to pull themselves together and form up into ranks.
“Eli,” Stiger said, “let’s go see the enemy, shall we?”
“After you,” Eli said, then grinned at Stiger, suddenly very pleased with himself. He held out a hand, palm upward, in the direction of the rise. “Be my guest.”
Stiger was about to turn away, but then stopped and looked back at his friend.
“How long have you been saving that one?”
“Since Larensus,” Eli admitted.
“Outside that tavern?” Stiger asked, thinking back. “What was that place called again?”
“The Nag,” Eli said.
Stiger recalled the tavern’s owners, the Powels, and their little girl. Her name was Adera and she’d been a thin wisp of a girl with a threadbare dress. Stiger remembered her as a kind soul. He decided she must not be so little these days, for that had been over ten years back.
It seemed like a different lifetime, almost. He’d been through so much since then, but what had occurred in Larensus with Prefect Hans, one of Avaya’s servants, had proven to be a dark foretoken of what was to come. Only, back then he’d not known it yet.
“Well,” Stiger said, “I think we left that town a better place than how we found it.”
“We did some good,” Eli said.
“That we did,” Stiger said, then glanced up the rise. “Right…enough stalling. Let’s go see the enemy.”
With Eli at his side and Dog trailing, Stiger turned and started up the rise. Therik joined them. It wasn’t much of a climb. The slope was just enough to conceal his army. He knew that enemy scouts had already reported their presence. It was why the enemy had fallen out of a column of march and deployed into a line of battle.
So, in truth, there was not much to hide. The show he was about to put on was designed to impress the enemy soldiers, not their commander. At the crest, one of Stiger’s mounted scouts glanced over in their direction, but then returned his attention outward toward the enemy.
Beyond the small rise, the rolling grasslands spread out, wide, open, and nearly flat. Like a sword scar, the King’s Highway cut right through the grasslands. The enemy had deployed at least ten thousand men in a long line about a quarter of a mile off. The road ran almost straight through the center of their line.
Two formations that had been organized into thick rectangular blocks with ranks five deep were moving forward at a steady pace, crossing the space between the enemy’s line and the rise Stiger was on. He figured there were two thousand men in each formation.
Lightning slashed across the sky in a blinding flash that left an afterimage on Stiger’s vision. A thunder crack followed mere heartbeats later, sounding like a hammer strike on a blacksmith’s forge.
Hux and the bulk of the cavalry were off to the left about four hundred yards away. The prefect had formed his horse soldiers up on the crest of the hill and into a long double-ranked line. They were facing off against a like number of mounted troops to the right of the enemy’s line.
The two cavalry wings were simply watching each other, with several hundred yards of open space between them. They were waiting for the other to make a move. That suited Stiger just fine. He did not need to force an action before he had more of the army up and was reinforced. He was more than content to allow things to drag on.
Dog growled, low, menacing, and long, as he stared at the enemy.
“Dog,” Stiger said. “Quiet.”
Dog ceased his growling.
Stiger surveyed the scene, impressed by all that he saw of the enemy. He figured those already deployed outnumbered him, and suddenly his force seemed small by comparison. More concerning was what was directly behind the enemy’s battle line, on the King’s Highway.
A long column of enemy formations could be seen marching forward toward the enemy’s line. The column of march stretched out for as far as the eye could see, disappearing into the distance and rain. The sight of it made him feel ill and suddenly had him questioning the wisdom of his battle plan.
Still, it was one of the reasons why he’d chosen to give battle rather than sit behind the encampment’s fortifications. It would take time, hours at best, for the entire enemy army to deploy. That hopefully would give the dwarves and elves time to come up and reinforce him, evening the odds. He would need to hold until then.
He glanced behind him and past the assembled legion. All he could see was his fortified encampment. Beyond that, along the King’s Highway traveling south, there was only open road. There were no marching columns in view.
“That is a lot of men,” Ruga said in a near whisper.
Stiger looked over at the centurion. His bodyguard had spread out around him. Ruga stood a few paces off. Though the centurion had made the comment to himself, Stiger could not help but agree.
Stiger glanced back at the legion’s marching encampment. If needed and pressed hard enough, they would fall back upon the safety of the encampment’s walls, but Stiger did not want to do that. It would mean giving up any possibility of maneuver, which might prove important when Braddock’s dwarves arrived.
“The time for withdrawal is over,” Therik said, having caught his look and mistaken it. “It is too lat
e to march back to link up with the dwarves. You are committed to battle and must now stand and fight.”
Stiger nodded and, without correcting Therik to his thinking, turned his gaze back to the battlefield. The two armies were coming together at a spot with no name. The spot was unremarkable, just an open grassy field. After today, at the cost of several thousand lives, this place would likely get a name. The only question was, who would get to name it, the empire or the confederacy?
“This is good ground,” Stiger said to Eli, studying the small grassy rise, which he intended to hold. “To get at us, the enemy needs to climb a little. Granted, it’s not all that high, but it will do. This position is perfect for javelin work. I sure wish we had some artillery though, a few dozen bolt throwers…but I guess you can’t have everything.”
The artillery was at the far end of the army’s line of march. Lagging well behind, it had never managed to catch up.
“All we have are a few of those gnome-made dragon bolt throwers,” Eli said and pointed behind them. “They fire up, not down.”
The gnomes who had marched with the legion were driving their wagons out of the encampment and toward the rise. Each wagon carried a dragon-killing bolt thrower. With Menos and the other dragons nearby, he seriously doubted they would get to use them as they had intended. The gnomes would have to settle for disappointment.
Thunder growled off in the distance again, and with it, Stiger felt his anger begin to boil. He returned his gaze to the enemy. There was a good chance these bastards before him had a hand in what happened to Aeda and the surrounding countryside. More importantly, they were intent on crushing the empire.
Somewhere out there was Veers. At least, he hoped Veers was down there with the army. The man was responsible for Taha’Leeth’s condition, and Stiger intended to make him pay. The wrath raged within him greater than the grumbling thunder. He would make them all pay.
Stiger’s hand came to rest on his sword hilt. The tingle raced up from his palm and was gone in a flash. The tiredness he’d felt from lack of a full night’s sleep vanished. The gloomy day became brighter and the colors around him grew more vivid.
The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5) Page 38