Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “There is something wrong with the garrison, isn’t there?” Stiger asked sharply.

  “Perhaps,” Father Thomas answered, opening his eyes and looking seriously at those around him. “Or something within the castle. I sense evil nearby.”

  “Great … just great,” Stiger growled, before turning back to Eli. “Do you have any idea what it is like in the valley beyond?”

  “No,” Eli admitted. “I do not.”

  “Is there a way to get up and around the castle … perhaps into the valley itself?”

  “The pass is steep with near sheer cliff faces on both sides. Any attempt to scale those faces would be seen,” Eli explained, “I would need to take men around the pass and through the mountains. It would be impossible to get more than a few men over safely. Such an attempt would take several days.”

  Stiger frowned. Waiting several days was not really an option. If there was something wrong with the garrison, he needed to know now. The supply train was at least a week behind. If the train needed to turn around, it would be better for that to happen before it got too close to Vrell.

  “Do you think they will let us in?” Stiger asked Eli, getting a sudden idea.

  “I believe they are very interested in the supply train,” Eli explained. “From where I was concealed, I could hear the conversation between the gate sergeant and our scouts. They seem desperate for resupply.”

  “We may be able to use that as leverage, then.” Stiger grinned. “Perhaps the promise of supply will purchase us entry.”

  “Sir,” Blake spoke up. “If there is something wrong with the garrison, why do we want to go in there?”

  “Good question,” Ikely agreed, with a glance over at Father Thomas. “Father, no disrespect intended, but I am not terribly eager to find out what your trouble is that awaits us.”

  “None taken, son, yet ignoring problems rarely solves them,” Father Thomas countered.

  “We cannot return without at the least discovering if there is a problem,” Stiger said firmly. “If there is something wrong with the garrison, we need to discover what it is and either fix it or return to report. With luck, our scouts were detained for some innocent reason. For all we know, the garrison commander is not even present and they are waiting for his return.”

  “I don’t like it, sir,” Ikely admitted. “They should not have kept our scouts … at least one should have returned.”

  “I don’t like it either,” Stiger agreed. “Duty requires us to investigate, and besides, I will not leave those men behind.”

  “Yes sir,” Ikely agreed, still none too happy.

  “If there is trouble, let’s see if we can get them to invite the fox into the hen house,” Stiger said. “Sergeants, I want the men looking slovenly. I want them to present a dirty and unkempt look. Let the garrison see poor-quality legionaries with little regard for discipline. Just what they would expect to receive from the main encampment.”

  “I believe the men can manage that,” Blake said with an evil grin. “Since we came all this way, it would be a real shame not to see the famed Vrell Valley.”

  Stiger chuckled before turning back to Eli. “Now, I want to hear everything about Castle Vrell and the garrison.”

  Fifteen

  Stiger looked up at the ramparts of the castle, at least three hundred feet above. He whistled at the impressive nature of the fortification. The dwarves who had built Castle Vrell had been very clever. It looked as if they had taken a very large knife and removed a slice of mountainside right where two very large mountains came together, creating a pass where one had not existed previously. Then they had built an impressive castle at the mouth of the pass. The outer wall of the castle, spanning the width of the pass, had been erected in a curved shape that bulged outward in the center.

  The faces of each mountain climbed steeply out and away from the wall, starting about twenty-five feet below the crest of the battlements. The dwarves had carefully shaped and then smoothed the two cliff faces, which had the effect of making the defensive nature of the outer castle wall that much more formidable. Not only was it an impressive bit of work, but also an astounding engineering accomplishment. Everything about Castle Vrell had an impenetrable look that screamed defensive power. Eli had not exaggerated when he had said that a handful could hold the pass against an army. Stiger had never seen anything like it.

  This was the most powerful defensive position he had ever seen, and he could not imagine how long it had taken to construct. As Stiger studied the walls, he tried to think of ways one would successfully assault such a fortification. He had difficulty imagining scaling such tall walls or breaking through the main gate, set in the center and at the base of the wall. The main gate consisted of a metal portcullis placed just inside a tunnel under the wall. Short of bringing down the walls themselves, which seemed an unlikely prospect, as they looked incredibly thick, the tunnel seemed to be the only weak point.

  The outer portcullis was being raised. Stiger could see another further along the tunnel that had also been raised. Sunlight was shining from beyond it. A couple of men had lit torches inside the tunnel. The more Stiger thought about it, he wasn’t even sure the tunnel could be considered a weakness. There were likely numerous murder holes inside the tunnel, making any assault that made it past the first portcullis a difficult and potentially impossible affair. The tunnel was long enough that it was possible that portions might even be safely collapsed or blocked.

  Getting a sizable force around the castle and over the mountains encircling Vrell Valley would also be very difficult. The snowcapped mountains, perhaps as high as 14,000 feet or more, were some of the largest he had ever seen. Sending a sizeable contingent of men over them might take months to accomplish, let alone moving any sort of supply to sustain them.

  Starving the defenders out would prove problematic, too. Vrell was so isolated that any besieging army would have supply problems of their own. In short, Stiger decided the easiest way to take such a castle would be from inside. The question was, how would an enemy get themselves inside? In the end, he concluded the effort to reduce such a position would be a massive undertaking and would likely take years of work and the commitment of thousands of men.

  Eli stood next to his silent captain, also carefully studying the castle. Stiger’s company, looking worse for wear, stretched out in a column, four deep, down the road and into the forest. Stiger had intentionally halted the column about three hundred feet from the wall. The men lazed about while they waited, looking to the unpracticed eye incompetent and low-quality. They were the near spitting image of what they had been when the captain had taken command. Stiger could tell they were enjoying the experience, hamming it up … perhaps a little too much.

  A lieutenant, along with a sergeant, strode forth, emerging from the tunnel. The two approached Stiger, who was waiting impatiently by this point. He hated to be kept waiting.

  The garrison officer saluted, fist to chest. He was a young man, barely out of his teens, and this was likely his first assignment. Stiger returned the salute. The lieutenant looked as if he had not had a good night’s sleep in a long while. His face was etched with exhaustion and what Stiger took to be worry. Something was clearly not right with the garrison.

  “I am Lieutenant Peal,” he announced in a high-pitched voice, after having glanced at Stiger’s men with ill-concealed contempt. He did not introduce the sergeant. Stiger noticed that neither the lieutenant nor the sergeant was armed, which was downright odd. They were both wearing their armor, though. The sergeant’s armor was well cared for, as would be expected of a typical legionary veteran.

  “Captain Stiger,” he said in response, introducing himself and then turning slightly toward Eli. “May I introduce Lieutenant Eli’Far.”

  The lieutenant looked back sharply, surprised to be in the presence of both a Stiger and an elf. At first, he had not noticed Eli’s distinctive looks. Peal recovered quickly, face becoming an inscrutable mask. “A pleasure to mee
t you both. Welcome to Vrell, gentlemen.”

  “It was a long road.” Stiger sighed in an exaggerated manner. “It is good to finally arrive.”

  “I can imagine,” Peal said and hesitated, looking down the road and back into the forest. “I thought … I thought the supply train would be with you?”

  “The train is lagging a few days behind,” Stiger explained casually, feigning indifference. “We pushed ahead and cleared the road of bandits.”

  “With these?” the lieutenant asked in surprise, gesturing disdainfully at the slovenly bunch of legionaries. “I am surprised they could safely dig a latrine without constant direction.”

  “I have to work with what I am given,” Stiger responded, with a disgusted look at his own men. “Lieutenant, we will need lodging and food. It has been a long, hard march, with far too few creature comforts. Some wine and a bath will be most welcome.”

  The lieutenant glanced uncomfortably behind him before looking back at the captain. He looked torn for a moment. “I was instructed to have the supply train enter at once, so that it could be unloaded before sundown. Your men were to remain—”

  “Lieutenant,” Stiger interrupted with mock exasperation. “That is not going happen until the train actually gets here.”

  “So you want to bring your men inside the castle?” Peal asked unhappily.

  “Of course,” Stiger snorted, as if there was never any doubt of his intentions. “I am not going to leave them out here. We encountered bandits on the road, and there are likely rebels about.”

  “Very well.” The lieutenant sighed heavily. It looked as if he wanted to tell Stiger something, but refrained from doing so. “You can take it up with the commandant. Captain Aveeno will see your men camped on the valley side of the pass.”

  “Not in the castle?” Stiger asked, glancing up at the fortification towering above them. The walls were so high that they were in the castle’s shadow. “It certainly looks large enough to house my company. Lieutenant, the last thing I want to do is spend another night on hard ground.”

  “I am confident lodging can be arranged for you and your officers, sir,” the lieutenant said, glancing over at the sergeant who had accompanied him. “However, space is limited inside the castle. Have no fear, we will find your men a good, safe spot to camp.”

  “That sounds acceptable,” Stiger said, as if somewhat mollified. Something was definitely wrong, and he did not like it one bit.

  “Excellent.” The lieutenant flashed a relieved look. “If you care to take your men through …”

  “Lieutenant,” Stiger said, watching the young man more closely. “I sent forward a couple of scouts to make contact. I know they arrived. They were ordered to report back.”

  The lieutenant squirmed, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Sir, I have the unfortunate duty to inform you that they were caught stealing.”

  “What?” Stiger asked, his voice becoming deathly quiet, almost a whisper. “Stealing, you say?”

  “Captain Aveeno has disciplined them for their theft,” the lieutenant said, voice cracking slightly. The young man looked so frightened that Stiger thought he might bolt. Stiger glanced over at Eli. He did not believe a word about his men stealing.

  “Though they are nearly worse than pigs wallowing in the mud,” Stiger growled, forcing himself to contain his anger, “I discipline my own men.”

  “I … I … ah, I understand, sir,” the lieutenant stuttered. “However, the commandant felt it best …”

  “What did the good commandant proscribe as punishment?” Stiger interrupted.

  “There is but one punishment here,” the lieutenant answered, struggling to pull himself together.

  “Well?” Stiger demanded, when the man failed to continue.

  “Death,” the lieutenant whispered, nearly shaking in his boots.

  “Death?” Stiger breathed in astonishment. He had expected a severe flogging, at the worst. His anger grew into a mounting rage and he took a menacing step closer to the lieutenant, who took a nervous step backward. “For theft? What did they steal?”

  “I, ah … I do not know, sir,” the lieutenant answered, sweat beading his brow. “I was on assignment in the valley at the time. You will have to take that up with the commandant, sir.”

  “I will,” Stiger breathed, inches from the lieutenant’s face. “You tell him I will do just that.”

  “Sergeant Boral,” the lieutenant turned, taking another step back. “Kindly escort Captain Stiger and his men into the castle.”

  “Are you sure about that, Lieutenant?” the sergeant asked. “The commandant was quite clear with his orders.”

  “Do as you are ordered,” the lieutenant snapped, a frightened look on his face. Stiger was shocked that the sergeant had actually questioned Peal’s order so openly. Such things just did not occur in the legions.

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” sergeant Boral answered stiffly.

  “Captain,” Lieutenant Peal said, taking another step backward to gain some space. He hastily saluted and did not wait for a return salute. “If you will excuse me, I must inform the commandant of your arrival and arrange for suitable quarters.” With that, the lieutenant turned and almost ran, so fast did he walk, back toward the tunnel. Eli and Stiger shared another brief look.

  Sergeant Blake and Father Thomas came up just then. Stiger gave the paladin a sharp look. He was wearing his coarse brown priestly robes, which covered his armor and sword. The last time Stiger had seen Father Thomas wear his robes had been when he had arrived at camp. The paladin looked very much like a simple, though large, friar or wandering priest of the High Father. It was not uncommon to see such men on imperial roads or traveling with the legions.

  Stiger frowned as he looked upon Sergeant Boral, who still had not budged an inch. The sergeant was a tough older man, with a thickened neck to prove an easy twenty years of service. He had a look of competence and coolness about him. Boral carried himself in such a way that told others he had seen a great deal and not much impressed him.

  “Blake,” Boral said, a smile cracking his face as he recognized Stiger’s sergeant.

  “Boral, you bastard,” Sergeant Blake exclaimed with a slow, matching smile. They briefly hugged, thumping each other on the back, as two old companions who had not seen the other in a great long while.

  “I thought you went north with the 7th,” Blake asked when he stepped back.

  “Got sent here instead.” Boral’s smile turned to a frown. “Wish I had been lucky and gone north, though.”

  “Captain, this man here is the best dice player I ever met,” Blake said, “and a good man, too!”

  “Blake lies too much,” Boral replied. “My skill in dice is much overrated. It is only chance that favors me.”

  “Chance? Seven levels, man!” Blake responded with a full-on grin. “I thought it was the loaded dice you rolled with?”

  “What’s going on in there?” Stiger interrupted, nodding toward the castle.

  “Don’t do it, sir,” Boral warned, sobering. “Stay out of Vrell or you will end up like your two scouts.”

  “What happened?” Stiger asked. He was still shaken at finding out his men had been put to death.

  “The commandant,” Sergeant Boral said simply. “He’s up and gone crazy.”

  “What do you mean?” Stiger asked. “Crazy how?”

  “We have not had any word from the outside in months. Messengers left and never returned. What with the supply train being so late, he claimed the empire had abandoned us. Him and his cronies have started ruling Vrell as if it is their own little kingdom. About a month ago he began executing anyone who disagreed with him. That has everyone terrified they will be next.”

  “Is that what happened to my scouts?” Stiger asked. The scouts’ arrival had provided direct proof the commandant was wrong.

  “’Fraid so, sir,” the sergeant said sadly, looking down in the dirt and kicking at a loose stone. He looked back up a
t the captain.

  “Then why are they letting us in?” Stiger asked, looking toward the retreating lieutenant’s back.

  “His orders were to have your men camp outside the walls. Only the train was to be admitted. The commandant wants it,” the sergeant answered with a shrug. “They have food to get through the winter, but that means starving the good people in the valley. They outnumber the garrison and are a tough, hardy sort, if you take my meaning, sir. We’ve begun having problems with them. To maintain control over the winter, I guess he needs that supply.”

  Stiger was silent a moment as he considered his next question. “So what happens once I take my company in?”

  “If I had to guess, the commandant will have your men encamped in the valley, with no way out. You and your officers will be lodged in the keep and sent an invitation to dinner, where the commandant will probably have you killed or some other such nonsense.” Boral shrugged. “Your men will be unable to help you. When the supply train gets here … well, he will take it, control most of the food for the valley … end of story.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Stiger asked, not liking at all what he was hearing. Everything in the South seemed upside down. If Aveeno was playing king, it did not bode well for the empire holding Vrell, especially with the impressive nature of the fortification before him.

  “I want out,” the sergeant answered plainly. “I swore an oath to the empire, not to a madman. All I ask is to complete my service and retire with my pension.”

  Stiger was silent a moment as he considered his options. “How many of the garrison are of a like mind?”

  “Most. Good men they are, sir,” Boral assured him, glancing back at the castle. “The majority are trapped in camps on the valley side. The commandant and his cronies terrorize them into following along.”

  “How many support the commandant?” Stiger asked, considering his earlier thoughts on the best way to take Castle Vrell; from the inside. Well … he had just been invited inside, hadn’t he?