“Surely,” Stiger said, having difficulty accepting the tale, “there would have been some record of this, some history that my people would have remembered?”
Braddock said nothing, but looked to Eli as he took another pull from his jug.
“If I recall,” Eli said, speaking up and looking over at Stiger, “you people venerate the founders of your empire?”
“Yes,” Stiger admitted, wondering where Eli was going with this. “But that is nothing more than legend, no better than mythology.”
“Is it?” Eli asked, raising a thin eyebrow curiously. “Is it truly?”
Stiger sat back, sucking in a breath. He placed his drink down on the table and was silent for a few moments as he considered his friend. “Surely you do not mean to say Rome is real? Romulus and Remus were real?”
“You are children of Rome.” Braddock ran a hand through his beard. “Hohhak the Historian recorded the story of the last days of Tanis and the sealing of the Gate. In his great work, he tells some of the history of the legion of Rome that fought at our side. If you like, I can have the history translated for you?”
“Rome is real?” Stiger could not believe what he was hearing. With everything else he had learned in the last few weeks, he felt that this should not surprise him, and yet it did. The news rocked him. As a child, like every other, he had learned the story of Romulus and Remus and the place from whence they came . . . Rome. Here for the first time was a real connection to the myth and legend. They were suggesting—no, insisting—that Rome was real. It was incredible . . . almost unbelievable.
“Yes,” Eli said softly. “When the World Gate was sealed, your people, unable to return home, settled with some of the other humans of this world. Soon after, they began to build their own empire based upon the one they knew, Rome.”
“How long ago was this?” Stiger asked, wondering why Eli, in all of the years they had spent together, had never spoken of this before. They would definitely be speaking on this later.
“Over two thousand years have passed since the World Gate was sealed,” Braddock replied in a grave manner. “We are fast approaching the day when it can be unsealed and the Way made open. That is what we must keep from happening. That is the true purpose of the Compact and our alliance.”
Malik returned with two plates of steaming venison, dried grapes, and a loaf of bread. One of his children was holding a plate of spiced potatoes. Malik placed them before Stiger and Eli. He then returned to the kitchen, ushering his child before him. Stiger took the opportunity to remain silent as he absorbed what had just been imparted and considered what he would say next.
The door banged open and with it cold air poured into the common room. Vargus entered, along with Father Thomas. They quickly closed the door. Father Thomas hung his heavy cloak on a peg and moved over to a table near the fire.
“Sir, you asked to see me?” Vargus said, coming up.
Stiger had nearly forgotten that he had requested the centurion’s presence. He eyed Vargus for a moment, then nodded.
“Join us.”
Vargus hung his red cloak next to the others. He took a seat at an adjacent table, pulling his gloves off as he did so and laying them on the table with a nonchalant attitude. Vargus smiled politely, but not genuinely, as he looked over at the legate.
“You know of this Gate?” Stiger asked of him bluntly.
“Of course,” Vargus replied. “It is why the Thirteenth is here.”
“And you did not feel the need to mention it?”
“I am sorry, sir.” Vargus’s eyebrows drew together. “I thought you already knew.”
“The empire has garrisoned this valley for years,” Stiger said, taking another direction to his questioning. “Why not come out and announce who you are? Why keep your presence a secret?”
“Orders, sir,” Vargus replied. “We were only to reveal ourselves when the conditions were right. General Delvaris left specific instructions. You fulfilled those conditions. That was why the Tomb of the Thirteenth was unsealed and the valley cohorts were free to come forward.”
“Some things are best forgotten until they are needed,” Father Thomas spoke up.
“You too?” Stiger asked, eyeing the paladin sharply.
Father Thomas simply returned Stiger’s look, but offered up no more.
“What of your people?” Stiger asked Eli. “Are they part of the Compact too?”
“No,” Braddock spat angrily, before Eli could manage a reply. “His people are not. They hid in their forests and did nothing whilst our two peoples bled and died.”
“Is that true?” Stiger asked, looking over at his friend. Why was he finding this out from others?
“My people stood apart,” Eli said with some hesitation, meeting Stiger’s gaze. “We have our reasons, though I stand with you now.”
Stiger felt irritated at Eli’s response. He eyed his friend a moment and looked back to Braddock. Tonight, when the time permitted and they were alone, he would speak frankly with Eli. It was time his friend answered some hard questions.
“So, there is another enemy beyond the Gate?” Stiger asked. “On the other side, another world like our own? This Horde?”
“Yes,” Braddock answered. “That world is called Tanis. When the World Gate was sealed, Tanis was overrun.”
“Castor and the Cyphan, they know it is here and they want to open it.”
“That would be a good assumption,” Braddock said. “It is why we defend the valley. It is the heart of the Compact. The Gate must never again be opened. The Way must stay blocked.”
Stiger glanced down at the table. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together and he did not at all like the picture that was emerging. He looked up and over at Eli, who was enigmatic as could be, before turning back to Braddock.
“Then my people can never go home?” Stiger said, feeling somewhat disappointed. To see Rome, a city he had until recently thought only a place in legend and mythology, would be one fantastic journey.
“Home, you say?” Braddock said with a scowl. “Neither can mine. This world, what your people call Istros and mine Istria, is our home now.”
“Is home now for both our peoples,” Garrack said, pointing a thick finger at Stiger. “We fight Last War for our home and future.”
“Malik, old boy.” Vargus grinned as the tavern keeper returned, limping back into the room with a large, fresh pitcher of heated ale.
“Vargus,” Malik exclaimed with a pleased smile. “It’s been too long. You should visit more often.”
“Do you have any of that good wine your brother makes?”
“I do,” Malik said as he refilled drinks. “I have some warming now. I will get you a jar.”
“Bring some for Father Thomas too,” Vargus replied, turning to the paladin. “I am confident you will find it very satisfying. We make exceptional wine here in the valley.”
“I have already become quite fond of your wine,” the paladin said and then directed himself to Malik. “Some mulled wine would be heavenly, my son.”
Malik retreated and returned shortly with two small jars of heated wine, which he placed before Vargus and Father Thomas. The tavern keeper quickly retreated back to the kitchen, the door banging behind him.
“Malik is a good man, sir,” Vargus informed Stiger. “He was one tough legionary. Took a crippling wound clearing out some of the lesser races.”
“Lesser races?” Stiger asked. He had heard Braddock mention the lesser races before.
“Enough talk such as this,” Braddock announced, holding up his jug. “I propose a toast. Together we will crush those Cyphan dogs!”
Stiger lifted his jar along with everyone else and took a sip.
“We see Gate,” Garrack said. “Then crush Cyphan into dust, salt fields, raze cities, and piss on graves.”
“My p
ioneers should already be hard at work cutting the enemy’s supply,” Braddock said with an evil grin.
Stiger set his drink down on the table. “Your pioneers? What do you mean?”
“I dispatched some of our finest pioneers shortly after we met,” Braddock explained. “The road to Vrell is long. My boys should have already begun hitting the enemy’s supply line.”
“It is long road.” Garrack grinned with agreement. “Cyphan army will begin to go hungry soon.”
“How?” Stiger asked, wondering how the dwarves got out of the valley. Had they gone over the mountains?
“Old City was a great mining center,” Braddock explained, taking another drink from his jug. “These mountains once ran rich with ore. Now they are mostly tapped out, but the mines and tunnels remain. The enemy believes falsely that Grata’Kor is the only way in or out of the valley. In a few weeks, when they are hungry, together we will strike.”
“You should have consulted me.” Stiger became angry. Braddock had planned everything out without him. If Braddock could send a force out, the enemy could send one in the same way.
“I am thane!” Braddock roared. “I do as I wish.”
“And I am your ally,” Stiger replied quietly.
Braddock took a deep breath, meeting Stiger’s gaze. After a moment he nodded, conceding the point. “Yes, we are allies.”
“The enemy could use the same tunnels?” Stiger asked with no small amount of concern.
“Unlikely,” Braddock said. “They are known only to dwarves and very difficult to find.”
“Even if Cyphan find,” Garrack added, “is confusing maze, not know way to go.”
“They come out deep into the forest, well away from the road,” Braddock assured him. “My people have hidden the entrances well. They are impossible to locate.”
“Like by the monument to the Thirteenth?” Stiger asked.
“Yes,” Garrack said. “Tunnels are hidden. Our warriors patrol.”
“Are there any that lead into Castle Vrell?” Eli asked. Stiger found he was keen on learning the answer to that question.
“Yes,” came the response from Garrack, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Will you show us the tunnels?” Stiger asked, eyes narrowing. “They will need to be patrolled and guarded carefully.”
Garrack looked to Braddock.
“They are already patrolled by warriors from my clan,” Braddock stated, as if that were the end of the matter. “There is no need for your concern.”
Stiger’s anger mounted once again. Eli shot him a warning glance that spoke volumes. Stiger disregarded it. His new allies were not as forthcoming as he felt they should be. The empire and dwarven nation were equal partners in this venture. If he did not stand up for himself now, Braddock would see the humans as the inferior party, and Stiger forever after would be dealing from a position of weakness. The issue needed to be pressed to its fullest.
“When were you going to tell me about them?” Stiger asked, looking directly at Braddock.
Braddock said nothing at first, but returned Stiger’s gaze with equanimity. The thane slowly took another drink, set the jug carefully down, and leaned back on the bench, which creaked loudly.
“We were not,” Braddock admitted, a hand coming up to stroke his neatly braided beard. Garrack looked over at his thane with a warning glance. Braddock did not seem to notice. “No one but my fellow dwarves knows of the tunnels.”
“How can we be allies if we cannot trust one another?” Stiger asked bluntly, pointing an accusatory finger at Braddock.
“It has nothing to do with trust,” Braddock replied.
“That was how you were planning on retaking the castle, wasn’t it?” Stiger felt the pieces of the puzzle coming together one after another.
“It was,” Braddock said and then leaned forward toward Stiger, resting a heavy elbow on the tabletop, gaze intense. “We came before your people and claimed this land as our own. No matter how long humans have lived in this valley or squatted in Grata’Kor, this land is still ours. Never forget that.”
Stiger leaned forward also, anger becoming hot rage. Eli placed a warning hand upon Stiger’s forearm, but he angrily shook it off and directed his full attention on the thane. “My mistake then. I thought we were equal partners in this enterprise you call the Compact. You don’t need us.”
Braddock hissed, looking over at Garrack in outrage. Clearly the thane was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way.
“Legate!” Vargus exclaimed in alarm. “They are our—”
“Hold your tongue, centurion,” Stiger snapped, not bothering to look over at Vargus. His entire attention was fixed upon Braddock. “If this alliance is to have a chance, the thane and I need an understanding.”
Braddock turned back. Stiger could read the wrath and anger in the dwarf’s eyes. The thane’s free hand clenched and unclenched.
Garrack unexpectedly burst out laughing. It was a deep belly laugh, which exploded into the silence of the small common room. Both Braddock and Stiger almost jumped.
“What is so funny?” Braddock demanded with an irritated look.
It took the other dwarf a moment to bring himself under control. Garrack said something in his own language, stifling another laugh as he did so. Braddock at first looked shocked, then glanced over at Stiger and then back to Garrack before his expression cracked. A smile appeared.
“What did he say?” Stiger asked.
“I never thought to meet another as determined, hard-headed, and difficult,” Garrack translated. “With you both . . . leading alliance . . . enemies stand no chance.”
Braddock began to laugh as well and soon both dwarves were roaring away, speaking in their own language. The thane thumped Garrack on the back.
“He is right, you know,” Eli said with no little amount of amusement. “You are determined, hard-headed, and difficult, even for a human. There are times you have the will of a boulder. You can be quite unmovable when you desire to be.”
The dwarves laughed even harder at that. Stiger shot Eli a sour look.
Braddock pounded the table with much amusement. The thane wagged a finger in Stiger’s direction, then raised his jug of ale. “I think we should drink to our mutual obstinate nature and the destruction of our enemies.”
Stiger cracked a smile, finally becoming faintly amused. It was hard to stay angry when the other party was dying with fits of laughter. Besides, Stiger understood the truth. He was a difficult person and so was the thane. In an odd sort of way, he felt a kinship to the dwarf.
“To difficult people!” Stiger said, raising his own jar.
“To the destruction of our enemy!” Braddock roared. “May we both one day piss on their graves.”
Everyone in the tavern drank.
“To allies!” Garrack roared, holding his jug up.
Everyone drank once again.
“Tavern keeper!” Braddock suddenly roared. “More ale!”
Malik appeared in a hurry with the large pitcher of ale. He set about refilling his customers’ drinks and then hastily retreated to the kitchen.
“One more,” Braddock said standing. “I salute our alliance, for it is made of equal parts.”
Stiger looked up at the thane before standing himself. Everyone else stood with him.
“I also salute our alliance, for together we will grind the bones of our enemies into the dust.”
Braddock nodded at that, and together they both drank deeply. Braddock wiped his lips with the back of his forearm. He set down his jug hard on the table and offered his hand to Stiger, which was accepted. The dwarf’s large hand swallowed his own.
“Eat.” Braddock pointed to Stiger’s untouched food. “We have a lot to see and do today, for as my father once opened my eyes by showing me the World Gate, I too shall do the same f
or you.”
He stomped out of the tavern, grabbing his cloak on the way out. Stiger watched the thane go, thinking on what Braddock had just said.
Garrack stepped around the table, punching Stiger gently on the arm as he stepped by, a grin visible through his thickly braided beard. “When we get back to Grata’Kor, I show you tunnels myself. Good?”
Stiger nodded, and with that, Garrack followed his thane out of the tavern.
“Well!” Father Thomas exclaimed. “And here I thought tangling with the minion of Castor was exciting. It is never dull around you, is it?”
“Never,” Eli said with an amused look.
Stiger rolled his eyes and, without saying anything further, sat down. He took out his knife and began carving up the now cold meat. Eli sat as well, as did Father Thomas and Vargus. Malik brought out food for the other two and together they ate in silence, Stiger thinking on his alliance with the dwarven thane. He wondered whether or not he could fully trust his new allies. Stiger supposed that only time would tell.
Twenty-five minutes later, the party rode out of the village and onto the snow-packed road that led toward the extreme northern end of the valley. Taha’Leeth pulled her horse up alongside Stiger as they passed the last of the cheering people. She cast a look his way, as if she wanted to say something, but there was a hesitation in her manner.
“Yes?” Stiger asked as he negotiated Nomad around an extraordinarily large slush-filled pothole on his side of the road.
“They . . . ” she began in elven and then stopped, switching to common. Taha’Leeth shot a glance behind them. “Those people, they adore you.”
This elicited a frown from Stiger, who, having passed around the pothole, pulled his horse back next to hers. Stiger took a moment to consider his response before he spoke.
“No,” he said with a hard look. “They do not love me.”
“They cheer for you, no?” she said. “This is the same thing, is it not? They treat you as a conquering hero.”
The Tiger's Fate (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 3) Page 5