The Tiger's Fate (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 3)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Seemingly satisfied with Stiger’s response to stay, Braddock turned and led them farther down the passageway, until they came to a purple door, which stood open. Two smaller dwarves were waiting for them. They dropped to a knee before their thane and were quickly permitted to rise.

  At first Stiger thought one of the two was another beardless dwarf, like Ogg. Then Stiger realized he was a she. Both dwarves were much younger than Braddock. The male’s beard was only half the length of those Stiger had seen serving with the army. Both wore nicely made blue tunics with gray pants, though the male had on a purple vest that matched Braddock’s clan colors. They also wore comfortable-looking sandals. A few words were exchanged and the two were introduced as Garran and Tema, a newly married couple from the city of Garand Nuwaga. Neither spoke common. Everything had to be translated by Braddock. Stiger expressed that he felt honored to be their guests. Both seemed pleased and bowed respectfully.

  “Eli’Far speaks our tongue,” Braddock announced, sounding abruptly weary. “We Dvergr prefer to feast in the morning. I have arranged a state feast. If you have need of me, speak to Garran; otherwise I will see you in the morning.”

  With that, Braddock turned and left, but not before snapping an order to Naggock. Two of Braddock’s personal guard were left behind. They took up a position at either end of the passageway. Eyeing the two guards for a moment, Stiger worried if they would be needed. Was it the lesser races they guarded against or their own kind? The question was a troubling one.

  Tema led them through the doorway and into a short hallway. Stiger went first, the elves next, followed by Father Thomas and Sergeant Arnold. It deposited them in a large common room. A tapestry separated the hallway from the common room. Tema held it aside for them to enter. Garran closed the door behind them. Stiger could hear bolts being thrown on the door. Tema smelled faintly of roses and offered him a friendly smile, which he returned as he stepped by her and into the common room.

  A wave of warmth and light washed over Stiger. The room was so well-lit that he and the others had to shield their eyes for a moment until they adjusted. The bright light came from a handful of lanterns that were set in mirrored recesses along the walls. The mirrors appeared to amplify the light. It was an ingenious system, and if the opportunity permitted, Stiger planned on studying them closer.

  In general, the common room was not what he had expected. Unlike the rest of Old City, it was clean and well-kept. A thick patterned rug took up the entire floor. There were cushions and pillows arranged on the floor that were meant for reclining. Thick, brightly colored, and patterned tapestries hung from the walls, completely covering the cold stone. A small table and two chairs sat in a corner. On it was set a large platter heaped with fruits, breads, and a large, round cheese wheel. A pitcher and several mugs had also been left on the table. There was even a vase with fresh-cut roses. Stiger wondered where they had gotten the flowers. It was the middle of winter.

  “Bless me,” Father Thomas said, as he stepped into the room. “Isn’t this cozy.”

  Stiger glanced around and found he could not disagree. The overall effect combined to give the room a warm feeling. He liked it. Several hallways led from the room. A draft of warm air caught his attention and he noticed for the first time that there was no fire or even, for that matter, the telltale smell of smoke. He saw several small holes set in the walls where the tapestries had been pulled aside and hung by large hooks. Stiger stepped over and put his hand up to the hole. He marveled at the warm air that blew into the room.

  Tema stepped forward and lifted the tapestry off of the hook. She let it fall back into place and said something, which he did not understand. She gestured emphatically toward the wall and then replaced the tapestry on the hook once again exposing the hole.

  “She says that if it becomes too warm,” Eli translated, “simply block the heating hole with the tapestry.”

  Tema launched into speech again, directing herself to Eli. Garran stood by her side and smiled broadly at his guests.

  “She welcomes us to their humble home and requests we kindly take off our boots and place them here,” Eli translated. Tema was pointing to a bench near the entrance to the hallway that led to their front door. Under the bench there were two well-worn pairs of boots. “She also says that rooms have been set aside for us and there are two washing rooms available for our use.”

  “That’s a step in the right direction,” Stiger said. He very much desired to remove his armor and perform a proper toilet. “Eli, please thank them for their hospitality,” Stiger added as he moved over to remove his boots. The others began to do the same.

  Eli translated and the two dwarves nodded with pleased expressions.

  Once they had removed their shoes, Tema and Garran showed them their rooms. Stiger had his own, but the others were forced to share. The rooms were simple and without beds, with only pillows and a set of neatly folded quilted blankets. The walls, like the common room, were covered in tapestries. A thick, multicolored rug covered the stone flooring. Holes in the walls delivered warm air to each room.

  The sound of running water greeted them before they entered the washing room. Water emerged from a hole in the wall and ran rapidly through a trough before disappearing out through another hole. It was a simple aqueduct system, similar to what the empire used in their cities to deliver water. In the empire, only the wealthiest could afford their own running water by purchasing a grant from the imperial household. The grant permitted them to tap directly into the aqueducts that carried water into Mal’Zeel. Those less fortunate had to settle for the communal troughs, basins, or fountains.

  It was not uncommon to see the communal water supplies packed with slaves drawing water into barrels and jars to be carried back to residences. Stiger’s family estate drew fresh water directly through lead pipes connected to the main aqueduct into Mal’Zeel. There had never been a period as a child where he had been forced to draw his own water. The water, like Garran and Tema’s, flowed right into his home.

  The dwarves had placed several large bowls and pitchers on a small wooden table for use in the washroom. On another table lay a pile of neatly folded towels, along with a bar of coarse soap. There was a small, grated drain in the floor. Tema warned them not to drink from the running water, as it was not fit for consumption.

  They were then shown where Tema and Garran’s side of the house was, including the kitchen with additional food. That side was fully furnished, with tables, chairs, and furniture. The two young dwarves were proud of their home and it showed. Before retiring, they politely asked if anything else was required.

  Stiger went to his room and carefully removed his armor, starting with the sword first. Touching the hilt, he felt the familiar, comforting tingle. He paused, examining the scabbard and running his hand along one of the lacquered dragons. Before today, he had never thought to encounter a dragon or learn that Rome was real. All of it had been a shock, but it was the sword that worried Stiger. It seemed at times almost alive. He considered speaking to Father Thomas about it, but then dismissed the idea. For some strange reason that Stiger could not fully explain to himself, he did not yet feel comfortable talking to the paladin about the weapon. Was it that he was afraid of what he would learn? Or was it something else, far darker? Sighing, Stiger placed the sword in a small recess set into the wall. He spent some time cleaning his armor with a towel and small brush, then stacked it neatly in a corner.

  Reduced to his tunic, he padded for the washroom and found one of them empty. He could hear the others out in the common room. The water was bitterly cold, but the entire house was comfortably warm. Like any other imperial noble, he appreciated cleanliness. Stiger bathed quickly. Once clean, he toweled himself off and put his tunic back on.

  Stiger made for the common room, where he found Eli and Taha’Leeth speaking in low tones. They looked up at his approach. Both were pale, strained, and clearly uncomfo
rtable. There was no one else about. The others must have retired to their rooms. Stiger suspected it would not be long before someone joined them.

  “The washroom is available if you wish to use it, my lady.” Stiger desired to speak with Eli alone. What he had to say was not for others to overhear.

  “Thank you,” Taha’Leeth said, picking up on the less-than-subtle hint and left them alone.

  Stiger waited until her footsteps could no longer be heard. “How much of this did you know?” he asked Eli bluntly.

  Eli said nothing, which only confirmed Stiger’s suspicion. He felt a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Once again, Eli had withheld something of critical importance from him.

  “And you never thought to tell me?” Stiger’s anger began to rise. He was at a loss for why his best friend had concealed something so important. The anger blossomed into a full rage. All through the weeks of fighting, Eli had said nothing.

  “How much did you know?” Stiger demanded again.

  “Most of it,” Eli admitted quietly. “I knew of the World Gate and the war.”

  “Why not tell me?”

  “I had hoped it was not time, that this burden would fall on someone else’s shoulders.”

  “So you decided to keep me in the dark?” Stiger asked harshly. “Because of wishful thinking?”

  Eli said nothing, but instead looked away.

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  “I am.”

  “Then you should have told me! You should have trusted me as I trusted you.”

  “Would it have made any difference?” Eli asked hotly.

  “It might have,” Stiger growled. “We could have gone searching for the dwarves and restored the Compact.”

  “The dwarves long ago retreated and locked themselves away in hidden cities like this one. I had no idea where they were.” Eli looked up, meeting Stiger’s angry gaze. “They found us all the same. It has worked out rather well.”

  “That is not the point!” Stiger seethed with anger.

  “Would you have believed me? If I had told you more on the dwarves? How much more difficult would it have been had I told you of the World Gate and the war between the gods? Would you have believed me then?”

  Stiger said nothing as he considered Eli’s words.

  “Yes, I knew the dwarves had the World Gate. No, I did not know where it was. The dwarves and the Noctalum moved it from its original location and hid it away. Yes, I knew of the Compact and its purpose, but I did not know of the Thirteenth’s connection to it all. There are some things I just do not know. I ask you again, would you have believed me?”

  His friend had a point, but Stiger was too angry to concede it. Eli should have told him and trusted in their friendship. Stiger had long since learned to trust Eli, but knowing his friend had hidden much from him, he considered for the first time that his faith was perhaps misplaced.

  “You remained silent,” Stiger said, “even after the dwarves found us and I shared the contents of Delvaris’s scroll with you.”

  Eli said nothing but looked down at the floor, avoiding Stiger’s angry gaze.

  “How can I ever trust you again?” Stiger asked, the heat leaving him in a rush. He felt drained by his friend’s betrayal. “How will I know that you are forthcoming and not holding something back like Braddock? Something important?”

  “You can trust me.” Eli had a stricken look upon his face. “I am your friend.”

  “Can I?” Stiger demanded. “Are you really?”

  “If you doubt that, Ben, then you are a fool,” Eli snapped, anger plain in his voice. He was about to say more when they heard steps in the hallway leading to their rooms. Instead, Eli turned away for his room without a backward glance. A few moments later, Stiger caught a glimpse of Father Thomas leaving one of the washing rooms at the end of the corridor. Had the paladin overheard their argument? He decided after some thought that he did not care.

  Stiger sat alone at the table in the common room. The others had long since gone to bed. It was late and he was tired. It had been an exceptionally long day. Stiger was angrier than he cared to admit. He was also in a terrible mood, which the others had sensed. They had left him to his brooding.

  He and Eli had been through a lot together. For the life of him, Stiger did not understand how Eli could willingly keep such things to himself. Eli did have a point, though, and Stiger very much doubted that he would have fully believed had everything been revealed in advance. It was one thing to tell someone of the impossible and another for them to see it and discover for themselves. Still, Eli’s behavior troubled him greatly.

  What else are you hiding?

  Besides his fight with Eli, Stiger was troubled about all he had learned. He was caught up in something that was far beyond his control. He did not wish to be part of it, and yet he felt like a puppet. All he wanted to do was serve his empire. The gods, the Compact, the World Gate, dragons, wizards, and magic . . . Stiger desired no part of that. His life had been so much simpler when he had been a lowly infantry officer serving in the legions, without some grand destiny that had been planned out in advance.

  What he had learned about Rome intrigued him. He had to admit that it would be fascinating to travel to the fabled city that his empire only knew from legend, tale, and song. Stiger had been told by Braddock it would be his choice whether or not to open the World Gate, as the Oracle had prophesized it apparently in such a way that the exact meaning was fiendishly cryptic and hard to completely understand. Before Ogg had left them, the wizard had even admitted that he did not fully understand the Prophecy and he had spent years studying it. Stiger had wanted to read the Prophecy, but it turned out the dwarves did not have a copy in Old City. Braddock promised to send for one, but it would not arrive for some weeks. So, Stiger was relying on the words and recollections of others who did not fully understand what the Oracle had written. It was not a comforting thought. In fact, it was downright frustrating, maddening.

  Stiger wondered what exactly lay on Tanis’s side of the Gate. Two thousand years was a long time. He was sorely tempted to find out, more even than he cared to admit. On top of all of his other worries, this was a burden he surely did not need.

  Stiger sipped some ale from his mug. It was extremely good, though he found he was not really able to appreciate it. His worries were eating away at him. The empire was in deep peril and the emperor was in danger. There was no telling what was happening beyond Castle Vrell’s walls. Like a toy ship in a glass bottle, he was stuck in Vrell, and all the while the empire was burning. It was extremely frustrating. Stiger felt helpless, and that made him angry.

  “Is it your habit to drink alone?”

  Stiger straightened up from a slouch and turned to see Taha’Leeth. There was no telling how long she had been there. It could have been mere moments or longer. Stiger shrugged. He did not care.

  “May I join you?” She came over to the table.

  Stiger shrugged again.

  She took the free chair and sat opposite from him. She was still wearing her woodland green and brown leathers. His dark mood lifted slightly as her beauty and fiery red hair brightened the room. Taha’Leeth poured herself a drink before leaning back. She sat for a while, staring at her mug as the silence in the room stretched.

  “When I was a child, my family lived in a peaceful place.” She took a light sip from her mug before placing it back on the table, both hands encircling it. “It was my home. The only home I had ever known. Elves had dwelt there for years beyond counting. We called it Dela Cor’tal. It was the most wonderful place imaginable, with ancient trees many hundreds of hands high with the lifespan to match an elf and so thick around you would find it impossible to believe.”

  She stopped talking and her eyes lost their focus. She seemed to be looking inward, remembering. Her focus returned and Taha’Leeth’s eyes
found his.

  “Dela Cor’tal was a peaceful place. We were a peaceful people, who threatened no one. We had asked for no trouble, nor desired any, but the war came just the same.” Her tone turned bitter. “It changed our nature as a people. Our gods demanded that we fight. We dutifully heeded their call and fight we did.”

  Knowing elves, Stiger suspected that no elf had ever told another non-elf this tale. Coming out of his funk, he listened with rapt attention as she continued.

  “The war eventually shattered my people and scattered us over many worlds. We suffered unimaginable heartache. Dela Cor’tal was overrun, and those beautiful, ancient trees burned, along with my childhood.” She paused for a moment, taking another sip from her mug and swallowing before continuing. “We felt betrayed by our gods, and so we abandoned them. We sought a quiet world, a place that knew not of the Last War and the struggle of the gods. In our long search . . . we found Istros. I led my people here.”

  Stiger’s mind reeled. It meant she was much older than Eli, for if Stiger understood correctly, the World Gate had last been opened over two thousand years ago.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “We thought that by running, we could eventually find a world free of the war, but that decision was wrong.”

  “That is why Eli did not know of your people, nor you his,” Stiger said. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “You came through the other World Gate. Eli’s people came through the one the dwarves have.”

  “Yes,” she admitted sadly. “In our haste for safety and sanctuary, we destroyed the other World Gate, hoping to leave the war behind. We thought we could defy the gods. We were wrong. Our punishment was slavery and servitude.”

  “To the Cyphan?”

  “First to the Bandu, then another, and finally the Cyphan. They are all the same, but with different names.”