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

by Marc Alan Edelheit

“Ikely insisted on supply wagons,” Cannol answered. “He made sure we had enough precooked rations for a week.”

  Stiger nodded. It had been the correct move. Armies fought on their stomachs. Without food, there would be little action, and he had no idea how long they would be out here, putting the orcs down. Stiger reminded himself that he had to start thinking like a general, planning beyond simple troop movements.

  “About time,” an angry voice snapped from behind Stiger.

  “Vargus,” Quintus greeted with an unhappy look. “We will make them pay for this.”

  “They took Jenna,” Vargus announced, striding up.

  “Gods no,” Quintus breathed, looking back to Stiger. “Legate, we must go after them before the moon rises to its fullest. That is when the bastards traditionally honor their gods.”

  “We will,” Stiger said. “First I will have an officer’s council.”

  “What?” Vargus fairly roared. “You had us wait on the cavalry and now you want to delay us further?”

  “Vargus,” Quintus snapped sternly, before Stiger could reply. “The legate is correct. We must plan before we step off. You of all people should know this.”

  This was followed by a moment of silence, as Vargus looked like he would protest, then his shoulders sagged.

  “Let’s get this over with then,” Vargus said sullenly.

  Stiger pursed his lips at the irate centurion. The man’s attitude was unbecoming an officer of his rank. Things could not go on this way for much longer. If it continued, Stiger would be forced to take some action, and then winning the man over would be impossible.

  “Give me five minutes to see to my company, sir,” Cannol said, dismounting. He began shouting orders to his sergeants to see that the horses were watered and the men given a rest.

  Stiger and his officers were gathered in one of the few buildings to survive the fire, a tailor’s shop. They stood around a beaten-up wooden table, heaped with discarded scraps of cloth. A fire crackled in the fireplace, warming the room. Outside, snow had begun to fall, coating the blackened and charred ruins.

  “Second Cohort will march for the pass. Our scouts should be hot on the raiding party’s trail. Once found, they will send word to the Second, who then can both conduct rescue and take punitive action if able.”

  Stiger paused, looking around the table. He did not have a map, but did not need one. He turned to Cannol.

  “The cavalry will sweep this side of the valley. You are to locate any additional raiding parties and deal with them. If you come across anything too large, steer clear and send word immediately. We cannot afford to have Second Cohort trapped in Forkham Valley. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Cannol said. “If they are out there, we will find them, sir.”

  “Sir?” Quintus spoke up. “Might I suggest Lieutenant Cannol’s command also check in on any isolated farmsteads and plantations. It may not be a bad idea to advise anyone they come across to head to Tedge for protection. At least until the threat is contained. If this is a prelude to extended trouble with the orcs, there will be safety in numbers.”

  “Very sensible,” Stiger agreed and looked to Cannol. “See that it is done.”

  “That means Tedge will have to be reinforced,” Vargus said unhappily. “There will be plenty there who can fight, though a century will provide additional strength and security so that no one else can easily be taken.”

  “I agree with Vargus, sir,” Quintus said. “With your permission, I will dispatch a century from my command to Tedge.”

  Stiger thought it through. By dispatching a century, it would reduce Third Cohort’s strength by eighty men. With the men he had on hand, it was not a big drain. Besides, the 85th would be arriving soon. Including the cavalry, he would have more than twelve hundred men on this side of the valley. It was a considerable force, and he felt comfortable detaching the century.

  “See to it,” Stiger said, turning toward Quintus. “In fact, I want every civilian left in Riverton sent to Tedge for their safety. There are too few buildings to protect them from the elements and we will need them for our own use.”

  “The century that will march back to Tedge can escort them,” Vargus said. “We can unload a couple of the supply wagons to help move any who are wounded or too infirm to walk that far.”

  “Unload the wagons? Good thinking.” Stiger gave a curt nod of acceptance. He thought for a moment more and then addressed himself to Quintus. “I want Third Cohort to dig in here. Build a rampart around the town. We may need a strong defensive position to fall back on.” Stiger realized that Riverton might become a long-term base of operations and thought some defenses would be more than welcome.

  “Sir, where will you be?” Quintus asked.

  “I will be leading Second Cohort after the raiders to recover our people.” Stiger noticed that Vargus looked less than pleased with that. The centurion was red-faced and seemed like he was having difficulty keeping his tongue.

  “Yes, sir,” Quintus said with a glance at Vargus. “And the 85th, when they arrive, what of them?”

  “Send them up after us. We may need their support.”

  “Sir,” Lan spoke up. “I request permission to accompany Second Cohort.”

  Stiger looked over at Lan with some surprise. He studied the lieutenant for a few seconds. Once before, when they had first set out for Vrell, Lan had requested permission to get in on the action and Stiger had denied him that. Studying his lieutenant, Stiger did not know what had prompted Lan to speak up. Perhaps the lieutenant saw it as his duty to family and empire.

  “Please, sir,” Lan said, drawing his chin up. “It is important to me.”

  “Very well,” Stiger said with a wave of his hand. “You may accompany us. Your troop will be assigned to Cannol’s company for the duration of your absence.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Lan said, looking immensely relieved.

  “Anything further?” Stiger asked, looking around the table. No one said anything. Stiger turned to Vargus. “Assemble your men.”

  Vargus did not need any further encouragement. He managed a salute before storming out of the building, the door banging closed behind him. Vargus could be heard in the street, shouting harshly for his men to fall in.

  “I need you to be my eyes.” Stiger turned to Cannol, feeling he needed to reinforce the man’s orders. Cannol was still a junior and inexperienced officer. He and most of his men had also sat out of the recent fighting, and, in effect, his command, like Second and Third Cohorts, were unproven. “If there is a larger force out there, I don’t want to discover it blocking our path out of that valley.”

  “If there is a larger force, sir, you will have your warning well in advance of such an eventuality.”

  “Good.” Stiger was pleased. “See to your men.”

  Cannol saluted and stepped out of the building.

  “What do you think we will find up there?” Stiger asked of Quintus.

  “I fear you will find a lot of orcs,” Quintus said matter-of-factly. “More than came out to raid.”

  Stiger let out a deep breath. “That is what I am thinking.”

  “This cannot be a coincidence,” Quintus continued. “You restore the Compact with the dwarves and assume the mantle of Delvaris. A hostile army is besieging the valley, and now the orcs, who have been peaceful for a good long while, launch a series of raids on our valley. No, I do not think this is a coincidence at all, sir.”

  “Again, we agree,” said Stiger quietly.

  “My people have remained vigilant for this time, the restoration of the Compact and your return. I fear there is worse to come.”

  Stiger was quiet for a pregnant moment. “I am not Delvaris reborn,” he said. It bothered him that people thought of him so.

  “No . . . of course you are not.” Quintus sighed heavily. “Vargus is a go
od man, a good soldier, and a fine officer, sir.”

  “Good soldiers follow orders,” Stiger replied more harshly than he had meant. He softened his tone. “When it matters, will he follow my orders?”

  Quintus looked down. An uncomfortable silence settled around the table.

  “I will fortify this town, sir,” Quintus said, changing the subject and looking back up. “We will be here waiting for you.”

  “All right then.” Stiger turned to Lan, who had followed their exchange without a saying a word. “Let’s go.”

  “Lieutenant,” Quintus said, grabbing Lan’s arm as Stiger was halfway through the door. “She is a pretty girl, but see that you don’t die for her.”

  Meaning passed between Quintus and Lan as the centurion released the lieutenant’s arm. Stiger stepped out into the street, followed a moment later by Lan, who looked a little shaken. The snow was coming down heavier than before. If it continued, their climb up the pass would prove difficult, and Stiger did not relish fighting in the snow. The elements complicated military operations immensely. Stiger pulled his cloak about him and clipped it closed against the cold.

  Vargus’s men were formed up, waiting to march out. Stiger and Lan made for the formation. As the snow fell, Stiger could hear the occasional sizzle as the large snowflakes fell onto timbers that were still smoldering.

  Once Stiger had joined the Second, the order to march was given, and the cohort, some 480 strong, with armor jingling, began to march out of Riverton. Each man carried a javelin and a haversack stuffed with rations. The shields had been removed from their canvas bags. Amongst the legions, that was always an ominous sight, for it meant the men were going into battle.

  “What girl?” Stiger asked as he fell in alongside the formation, with Lan to his right. The lieutenant looked uncomfortable and for a moment did not speak. Stiger glanced over at him in question.

  “Jenna,” Lan said.

  “Vargus’s daughter?” Stiger asked with some surprise.

  “Yes, sir,” Lan admitted. “I first saw Jenna when I met with the Valley Council. She came to the castle to help treat the wounded from the campaign. I was able to get to know her better, and I would be grieved if something were to happen to her, sir.”

  “I see,” Stiger said. “Does her father know?”

  “No, sir, I believe he does not.”

  “Probably not a bad thing considering,” Stiger said with a chuckle.

  “A fine afternoon for a rescue,” a voice boomed from behind.

  Stiger started in surprise, stopping to find the paladin hustling up to join them with Sergeant Arnold following. Father Thomas offered the legate a broad grin. Stiger struggled to control himself. He wanted to ask what the paladin thought he was doing and then just shook his head. He already knew the answer and ground his teeth in frustration. Wherever a paladin went, there was sure to be trouble involving the interests of the gods.

  “Right then,” Stiger said, turning to resume his place alongside the column of marching heavy infantry. “Let’s get to it.”

  Ten

  The snow deepened the higher they climbed. There was no path or trail. Vargus explained that there had never been one, at least as long as anyone could remember. Forkham’s Valley was orc territory, and no one in their right mind wanted to go there. The route they took was tree- and brush-choked. The men not only had to fight against the deepening snow, but also the brush, pushing it aside as they went.

  It was a difficult climb, and within a short time everyone was wet and miserable, Stiger amongst them. Not only was he cold and wet, but the wind was also beginning to pick up, whipping through the trees and blowing the falling snow about, which made for poor visibility. Stiger was becoming concerned about accidently stumbling into a party of orcs.

  A short while after starting the climb, they came across a large area that had been trampled by many feet. It was impossible to miss, almost as if whoever had passed through did not care that someone might follow them. The falling snow was only just beginning to fill in the tracks. Blood could occasionally be seen in small splashes where it had fallen, darkening the fresh snow that lay atop it. The blood was red. The captives had been brought this way.

  The century continued to struggle up the slope, following the tracks that the orcs had blatantly left through the forest. It bothered Stiger more than he cared to admit. If what he had been told about the punitive expedition were true, and he had no reason to suspect otherwise, the orcs were inviting another go of it by the valley cohorts. Savages they may be, but Stiger understood these creatures were intelligent. They surely would have remembered. The behavior the orcs had exhibited so far indicated to Stiger that they had nothing to fear. It was this that worried him the most.

  The effort at climbing had Stiger and the legionaries sweating and breathing heavily despite the wet and cold. There was very little talking. The climb was made worse by the fast pace that Vargus had set. It took a great deal of effort to simply keep slogging along. Occasionally a man would curse as a tree showered snow down upon him or trip on roots or rocks concealed by the snow. Stiger kept himself focused on where he placed his feet as he climbed, each footstep crunching as he made his way higher.

  Vargus stopped unexpectedly and turned to look down on Stiger a few feet below. “Our climb is over. This is the beginning of the pass.”

  The centurion was breathing heavily but looking relieved. Stiger scrambled up the last few feet and over the edge to the pass itself. He stopped and looked around as the men spilled out into the pass. Where he was standing was level ground. It looked, as near as he could tell through the trees and falling snow, as if two mountain slopes had sprung upward from this spot, almost exactly V-shaped, with the bottom of the V being a flat thirty-foot-wide base that widened the farther it went. The slopes of the two mountains were incredibly steep, so much so that it would require some effort to climb. He could not see how far the pass traveled, as the trees and falling snow obscured his vision.

  Stiger wiped sweat from his forehead and turned as Father Thomas came up. Like everyone else, the paladin was breathing heavily from the exertion.

  “I would not want to have to make that climb every day,” the paladin said with a glance back down the slope.

  “Hopefully we will not have to,” Stiger replied. “Getting supplies up here would require some work.”

  “It would not be easy,” Father Thomas agreed.

  Vargus scowled at their exchange.

  “How far does this go?” Stiger asked Vargus.

  “The pass travels that way for about a half a mile before it opens to the dead-end valley,” Vargus continued. “I understand it’s a drop-off of perhaps two hundred feet in a gentle slope down to the base of the valley. Nothing like what we just had to climb. Forkham Valley itself is around five miles in length and perhaps two to three wide. Last time we sent scouts up here, they reported it was all forest with no visible orc settlements.”

  “How long ago was that?” Stiger asked.

  “About five years gone,” Vargus responded after a moment’s thought.

  “Sir!” A legionary called their attention to the slope on their right. From amongst the trees, Eli had emerged and was trotting toward them, his bow slung over his back. Stiger noted sourly his friend looked to be enjoying himself. Eli was in his element, confident, relaxed, and appearing like he had not a care in the world.

  “We’ve found them,” Eli announced. Lan came up the slope at the same time and joined them. “The orcs are holding the captives at a ruin about four miles south of here, near the southern end of the valley.”

  “That should be where the ruins of their temple are located,” Vargus said.

  Eli knelt down in the snow and quickly drew an outline of the valley with his finger. “This is where we are and this here is where the captives are. They are being kept in a rough wood enclosure that loo
ks like an animal pen. We were able to count twelve captives. There are some rough huts and a good number of orcs about. Several are standing guard.”

  “Any women among the captives?” Vargus asked anxiously. “My daughter is a young woman.”

  Eli glanced up at Vargus and tilted his head slightly. “I saw three women, all youthful. They were alive and looked relatively well. Marcus, Taha’Leeth, and Aver’Mons are watching them from a safe distance.”

  Vargus let out an explosive sigh of relief. He bowed his head a moment in what looked to be a prayer.

  “We found a number of cave entrances along the slopes of the valley,” Eli continued. “There is evidence of considerable activity around these.”

  “They live underground, only occasionally coming to the surface to hunt,” Vargus explained. “We’ve had reports in the past of them putting their hand to farming too, but not here. This valley is holy ground for them.”

  “So there could be a lot of them out there?” Stiger looked at Eli. It was likely why the orcs were not concerned with the valley cohorts. There could be hundreds, if not thousands of the creatures about. Stiger ground his teeth in frustration. This was one headache he had not asked for.

  “Yes, I believe there to be a good number of orcs about,” Eli answered. “We should be cautious. I do not believe it to be a good idea to take the entire cohort beyond the pass.”

  “Why?” Vargus demanded. “We push right through and take our people back, then punish the bastards.”

  “That, I believe, would be a mistake,” Eli said firmly. “A large body of men would be much more easily discovered. Once the alarm is sounded, we could find ourselves badly outnumbered and cut off.”

  “I take it you found a lot of tracks?” Stiger looked at Eli grimly.

  “A surprisingly large number,” Eli admitted in a grave manner. “I feel the prudent move, once the sun goes down, would be to send a small force forward. This force could free the captives, while the rest of the cohort holds the pass.”

  “Sneak in, strike quickly, and then run?” Stiger nodded. He liked that approach much better.