The Tiger's Time

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “In an abandoned mine?” Father Thomas asked.

  “It would seem so,” Hogan said. “We saw no need to check the mines, as they don’t connect with any of the roads. They’re all dead ends and, to be honest, there are simply too many to check.”

  Stiger sucked in a breath, his anger at the pioneer fading. He would not have thought to check a mine. With no outlet, and no evidence anyone had been in the city, why bother? Stiger saw that the thane’s rage and anger subsided a little, too. Hogan, however, did not seem to be in the mood to waste any further time with explanations.

  “How soon can you be ready to leave?” Hogan asked them. “I think the only reason the orcs did not immediately attack this camp was because it is fortified. That will not last much longer.” Hogan turned and pointed beyond the walls. “They are conducting some sort of religious ceremony over at their king’s camp. We think they have a priest with them, too.”

  “A priest, you say?” Father Thomas said. Stiger thought the paladin seemed surprised by that revelation. “Are you certain?”

  “No,” Hogan said. “We’re not certain of much at this point. My boys have tried to get close for a better look but have been unable to do so.” Hogan gave a shrug. “There are just too many orcs in the city. When they finish with their little service, whenever that happens, I expect them to turn their attention this way.”

  “Do you have any idea how many there are?” Stiger asked.

  “At least six hundred, maybe more,” Hogan answered. I’ve recalled all of my pioneers, but they won’t get here for some time. I’ve only got fifty of my boys at hand.”

  “We can leave now,” Pixus said, speaking up. “My century is ready to move.”

  “Good,” Hogan said.

  “I assume they are watching, waiting for us to make a break for it?” Stiger said.

  “There are five lookouts watching your camp,” Hogan said. “There were six, but to get in here I was forced to silence one.” Hogan rested his hand upon the hilt of his dagger. The scabbard had blood running down the side. “That is another reason to get moving sooner rather than later. We don’t want them to discover my handiwork too soon and raise the alarm. My guess is once the scouts see you leaving, they will run to tell Therik and then the chase will be on.” Hogan paused and suddenly grinned, something that seemed out of place on the scout’s face. “My pioneers are in position to silence the rest of their scouts. All they are waiting for is word from me. If everything works out, you can get back to the road before they know you are gone.”

  “Okay.” Stiger turned to Pixus. “Let’s get the men quietly formed up and ready to move. Impress upon them they are to make as little noise as possible. We don’t want to tip our hand. Our lives depend upon it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pixus said. “I will make sure they understand.”

  “Good,” Stiger said. “Sabinus, kindly assist Pixus, will you?”

  Sabinus gave a nod and hurried off with Pixus.

  Stiger turned back to Hogan.

  “Silence those lookouts,” Stiger said curtly. “Once they’re down, we move.”

  Hogan nodded, gave his thane a hard look, and then stepped back up to the wall. He nimbly slipped over the side and slid down into the trench, then slowly climbed out the other side. Without sparing a glance back at the camp, he set out and quickly disappeared into the darkness and brush.

  “I ordered Taithun to clear the trail to the road,” Brogan said, “so that the wagons could get down to our camp. Once the orcs discover their fellows are dead, they’re likely to have no trouble following us.”

  “Yes, I know,” Stiger said. “I expect Therik to come after us. It will be an ugly affair. I will make sure of that.”

  “I am pleased we understand each other,” Brogan said. “I will get my boys ready to move as well.”

  “Brogan,” Stiger said as the thane made to step away. “Once we make it to the road, we need to send a rider back to Old City. They must have word an attack on the valley is imminent. The legion needs to know as well. It has to be one of yours, someone who knows the way.”

  Brogan gave a nod of agreement. “I will have someone ready. That is, if you have a horse?”

  “We do,” Stiger said.

  “Good,” Brogan said and started off without another word.

  As he glanced back out into the darkness, Stiger could hear the muffled sounds of the men beginning to assemble behind him. After a moment, he shot a look over at Father Thomas, who had remained behind.

  “I thought, for a short time,” Stiger said, “that I might actually be able to trust Therik. It was more than just a gut feeling, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” Father Thomas said, with a sad shake of his head. “I also believed him trustworthy, or at least that he meant what he was saying.” Father Thomas placed a hand upon the wall. “This attack was planned out in advance.”

  “It would have to have been, if Hogan is to be believed.”

  Father Thomas turned to face Stiger. “We both come from the future. We are aware of some of the events that occurred here in the past, such as the final battle where Delvaris fell, defeating the minion along with the orc army.”

  “What you are getting at?”

  “The minion is of our time,” Father Thomas said. “It too would know of events that had occurred here in the past. Perhaps it even has knowledge of things of which we are ignorant.”

  Stiger felt himself go cold.

  “You’re saying,” Stiger said after a moment, “that the minion had knowledge of the summit in advance? It set this ambush for us? With Therik’s help?”

  “That is a distinct possibility,” Father Thomas said. “We cannot discount it, nor dare we try.”

  Stiger found he could not disagree with the paladin, and if true, this certainly complicated matters. If the minion knew of past events, then they couldn’t count on meeting the enemy where Delvaris had fought his battle.

  “Why did you not speak of this ‘til now?” Stiger asked.

  “I had not considered it,” Father Thomas admitted, “until I heard what Hogan had to say. I should have thought of it sooner.”

  Stiger thought of a line Sergeant Tiro had been fond of using. “In war, there are always a lot of shoulds.”

  “Yes,” Father Thomas said, “there are, aren’t there?”

  Stiger turned and looked over the camp. Most of the men had been assembled. The horses and mules were being brought up with their litters for the wounded. It was almost time to go. Stiger gazed out into the darkness with more than a little concern.

  Once before he’d been pursued by an enemy, hounded and hunted for many miles. Though it had worked out in the end, it had been an exhausting and harrowing experience. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he would shortly be running for his life, with the enemy nipping at their heels. And they had a long way to go.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chest heaving from the exertion of the climb, Stiger came to a halt. Despite the chill night air, he was hot, sweaty, and somewhat out of breath. Glancing back down the slope, he decided he needed more exercise. In a column of two, the men of Pixus’s century continued to flow by him and into the entrance that led to the underground.

  The opening of the tunnel looked blacker than black, almost ominous. From its depth spewed a colder flow of air. It felt refreshing, but at the same time Stiger found it wasn’t. The cold of the underground would be with him as an ever-present companion for the next few days, chilling him to the bone. The only warmth would come from marching and the occasional fire—that was, if they had time to stop.

  “Seems like we slipped away without detection,” Sabinus said, having made his way up the hill to him. The centurion was breathing heavily. “Hogan’s boys did their job, that’s for sure.”

  Not wishing to waste breath as he recovered, Stiger remained silent. He had to agree that Hogan had come through. The enemy’s scouts had been efficiently eliminated. A short time after Hogan had
given the all clear, the century had marched out of the encampment.

  “The climb wasn’t so bad.” Sabinus cracked his neck before taking out his canteen. After a quick swallow, he offered it to Stiger, who took a grateful swig before returning the canteen.

  “It was the pace you set,” Sabinus continued. “If I may say so, a real punisher, sir. Almost as bad as a route march, but shorter.”

  Stiger glanced over at the centurion, wondering if Sabinus had said that for his benefit. After a moment, he decided the centurion was serious. Sabinus was sweating just as profusely as Stiger and appeared almost as winded.

  “Route marches are always the worst and that’s what’s essentially ahead of us,” Stiger said. “A forced route march.” Stiger almost groaned at the thought of how far they had to go. “Don’t worry, I’ll slow things up. We have a lot of ground to cover and something more manageable will be called for. That said, we will march in longer intervals with shorter breaks.”

  “I had figured as much, sir,” Sabinus said and then brightened. “The good news is the dwarven road is straight and level. That should make it a tad easier for the men.”

  Stiger looked behind them into the trees, where the dwarves had ripped up the brush along the old road. They had also felled trees and removed the stumps so the wagons could pass. Even in the dark, it was a path a blind man could follow. He glanced upward. The cloud cover had thickened up considerably, completely hiding the moon. As a result, he wasn’t able to see much farther than a few feet.

  Thunder rumbled, sounding much closer than before. The air, though chill, was humid. It wouldn’t be long before the rain started. A flash of lightening somewhere off to the left illuminated the clouds for a fraction of a heartbeat. Stiger counted slowly. The thunderous crack came at the number five.

  “There is a bright spot,” Sabinus said.

  “Oh?” Stiger glanced over at the centurion. “What is that?”

  “At least we won’t have to worry about being rained on, sir.” Sabinus glanced in the direction of the tunnel entrance.

  “There is that little mercy,” Stiger agreed. “While marching, I’ve been rained on more times than I can count.”

  “It’s never much fun,” Sabinus said, “marching with your feet wet, cold, and muddy. Worse, the rain eventually seeps through your armor so that every part of your body is soaked and cold. You only have your helmet for protection to keep your head dry.” He tapped his helmet with a finger. “This damn thing’s a real pain in the neck.” He paused, sucking in a breath. “If I had only known before enlisting, I honestly don’t think I’d ever have gone through with it.” Sabinus paused again. “Upon reflection, I was a stupid kid who thought he had all the answers. Sir, I probably would have joined anyway.”

  Stiger chuckled. He had heard such sentiments before. The allure of being a legionary was a strong pull for a headstrong youth. Only after they had enlisted and been sworn in did they realize the gravity of what they had done.

  “We were all young and stupid once,” Stiger said, thinking of his own youth. He had joined, following in his father’s footsteps—a man who had ruined their family name. Even after all this time, Stiger’s anger for his father was still hot.

  “You know,” Sabinus said, “at first I thought I’d made a huge mistake. Basic training does that to everyone. It gets you questioning yourself on why you joined. But honestly, the legion made me into the man I am today, sir. I owe the empire a debt I can never fully repay. It is why, before the legion marched south, I signed on to a new term of service.”

  “A debt?”

  “Had I not joined,” Sabinus said, “I would likely have ended up knifed in the slums of Mal’Zeel, another forgotten thug who had joined a gang. That or disease would have gotten me. Yep, I owe the legion a lot.”

  Stiger gave a nod.

  “I love what I do,” Sabinus continued. “It’s not everyone that loves their job so much they look forward to it each morning.”

  “And the killing?” Stiger asked. “The losing of men under your command?”

  “Not that. You never get used to that, sir. I hate that part, though it’s necessary. Still, in general I love not only what I do, but the legion as well.”

  “I understand,” Stiger said, and in truth he did, only too well. The legion became a good home to so many who had not known one.

  Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, Dog emerged from the darkness and padded up to him. Dog sat down and leaned his head against Stiger’s thigh. Reaching down, he absently tousled the long hair on the dog’s head before scratching at an itch on his chin. Stiger returned his gaze to scanning the darkness. It was frustrating that he couldn’t see much. He touched the sword’s hilt and the darkness brightened just a little. It didn’t help. He couldn’t see much farther than he had a moment ago. Hopefully, the orcs would have the same problem.

  “You are certain they will follow?” Sabinus asked, thoughts turning to what lay down below them in the forest.

  “Yes,” Stiger said and pointed at Brogan. The thane stood a few feet away. He wore a thunderous expression that matched the rumbling of the coming storm. Hogan and Merog were with him, as was Theo. Theo and Merog were speaking with another pioneer Stiger did not know. “The enemy wants the thane dead, and badly, too.”

  “I see,” Sabinus said, turning his gaze to Stiger. “And what about you, sir?”

  “That too.” Stiger wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his forearm. His helmet had become loose, and the heavy thing had been shifting about slightly with every step. It was not only annoying but uncomfortable. He quickly undid the straps and then tied them tight once again. He gave the helmet a slight tug to make sure the fit was snug.

  The thane spotted them and made his way over. Hogan was at his side. Theo and Merog followed a moment later, after finishing up whatever they had been discussing with the pioneer, who immediately went back the way they had just come, and in a hurry, too.

  “Legate,” Brogan said in common, tone hard and cold. There was an unforgiving look to the thane’s eyes. Stiger understood his rage was directed at their current situation and Therik. Stiger did not take it personally.

  “A pioneer just arrived,” Brogan continued, “with word the religious ceremony the orcs were conducting has ended. They seem to be feasting to their success at the moment.”

  “A feast?” Stiger asked Hogan, surprised. The captain of the pioneers didn’t even seem winded in the slightest by the climb and pace, though Brogan most certainly did. There was a heavy sheen of sweat on the thane’s face. The bandage on his head was soaked with sweat. A dark-red stain had seeped through the center, where Brogan had been cut.

  “As crazy as it sounds,” Hogan said. “They don’t seem in too much of a hurry, do they?”

  “They will be,” Stiger said, “once they figure out we’ve gone.”

  The last of the men in the small column marched by and into the blackness of the tunnel entrance. The mule train came next, each being walked single file up the hill.

  “I seem to recall that door can be locked from inside, right?” Stiger nodded toward the huge stone door that stood open a few feet away.

  “It will lock,” Theo said. “Once everyone’s through, it will be sealed behind us.”

  “That won’t hold them for very long,” Hogan said. “A few hammers and some effort is all it will take to break through.”

  “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” Stiger said, though he had suspected as much.

  “I’m always telling him that, too,” Merog said, jumping in, which drew an unhappy look from Hogan. It didn’t stop the lieutenant, who rounded on his superior. “Hogan, you need to be more positive. Think happy thoughts or perhaps less pessimistic ones or I don’t know—something.”

  “Happy thoughts?” Hogan turned on Merog, eyebrows rising just a tad. Hogan pointed at the tunnel. “I will be happy when that door is closed and they are on their way to Old City.”

  “Is th
at all it takes?” Merog asked.

  “All what takes?” Hogan asked, clearly confused.

  “To make you happy?”

  “Really?” Hogan shook his head in dismay. “You think this is a good time to play with me?”

  “I only hope that door will buy us a head start,” Stiger said, amused with the two. It reminded him of his time with Eli.

  “With luck, it will take a while before they notice we’ve gone,” Sabinus said. “Especially with them feasting, gaining us even more time.”

  Hogan turned a scowl upon Sabinus but said nothing. The captain’s expression told Stiger much.

  “I will make Therik pay for this.” Brogan clenched his fists. He was breathing heavily, and not just from the climb. He shook a finger into the darkness, as if he were talking to Therik directly. “I will extract a terrible vengeance upon your people for this base betrayal. By my legend, on that I promise.”

  Stiger glanced over at Brogan. He found the thane’s attitude more than a little ironic. Only a few hours before, Brogan had been the one planning to betray Therik. Still, Stiger understood that there were more important matters than revenge. He decided to hit the matter plainly, knowing there was a strong chance that, with Brogan’s current ill temperament, the thane might take offense.

  Stiger had already made the decision to become an active participant in events and help shape them, rather than be reactive. It was time he reinforced that, for only in that manner would Brogan see him as an equal partner in what was to come.

  “First,” Stiger said in a firm tone that exuded self-assured authority. He put as much steel into it as he could, without being rude. Just plain steel and resolve. “We need to make it back to safety. What Therik did here is only a prelude for what is to come. They will strike at the valley, and I would say it will happen sooner rather than later.”

  Brogan gave Stiger a funny look, his bushy brows coming almost together. He was clearly wondering what Stiger was getting at. Just the same, the thane turned to Theo.