The Tiger's Time

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “We will be leaving a garrison,” Stiger said. Moving the entire legion long distances took days of planning and preparation. Salt, however, was quite correct, and Stiger understood he had to start thinking larger. He would have to take care to be clear with his directions. “Fifth Century will remain, along with the Ninth and another of your choice. The rest, including our auxiliaries, will march. And where most of us are going is a place called Forkham Valley, just to the south of here. That is where the orcs that did this are. We will be paying them a visit.”

  “Yes, sir,” Salt said. If he wondered how Stiger had known, he didn’t voice it. He clearly read the hard edge to Stiger’s tone and stiffened his back ever so slightly. “The legion will be ready to march in an hour, maybe a bit longer, sir.”

  “Very good. I will be in headquarters. I need to change my tunic and grab something to eat. We will speak on operational details shortly. I will send for you when I am ready.”

  “Yes, sir.” The prefect gave him a salute.

  Stiger turned to Sabinus. “Centurion, you are with me. You two also.” Stiger motioned for Father Thomas and Theo to follow.

  He glanced around quickly, taking stock of where they were. This camp was almost identical to the ones he had known in the future, at least those in the North. Before traveling south, Stiger had never seen anything like the southern legions’ disease-ridden camp. He was thankful this camp was clean.

  “Dog, come.”

  Since they’d entered through one of the side gates and not the Porta Praetoria, the main gate, Stiger led the way through the streets, toward headquarters. Had they come through the main gate, it would have been a straight shot to headquarters along the Via Praetoria, the main thoroughfare of any encampment. The legionaries they passed stepped aside and came hastily to attention. Stiger paid them no mind. He continued on his way with Sabinus, Father Thomas, and Theo following.

  This was only a marching encampment. There were no permanent structures. Headquarters was a series of large tents. As they approached the entrance, the four sentries on duty standing guard over headquarters snapped to attention, saluting.

  The side of the administrative tent was completely drawn up and tied back with burlap straps to admit the light and air of the outside world. The administrative tent was the main point of entrance for headquarters. Here Delvaris and Arvus would have their office, along with the quartermaster, legion paymaster, and camp prefect. Six clerks were working diligently at camp tables when they arrived. The tables were stacked with wax tablets and rolls of vellum. The men ceased what they were doing, dropped their styluses, and stood to attention as Stiger made his way by them. Dog followed.

  “Welcome back, sir,” one of the clerks said, a tall, thin man who had gone completely bald. His nose had been broken and never quite healed right. Just off center to the left, it marred his features. He also was missing one of his front teeth. Stiger figured he was the lead clerk, as his table was closest to the legate’s office. Stiger did not know the man’s name.

  Dog ran up to the clerk and began licking his left palm, which Stiger saw was closed into an ink-stained fist. The man opened it and fed Dog a small bit of bacon. There was a hint of a smile on the clerk’s face.

  “I need a fresh tunic,” Stiger said. “Kindly send for one and have some food and drink brought to me. The legion will be marching shortly and I’d at least like to feel somewhat civilized before climbing back onto a horse.”

  Stiger paused and then glanced at Dog, who had wolfed down the bacon. The animal had sat down before the clerk and was looking expectantly at him. Dog snapped his jaws as if to say, “Feed me!”

  “Also, send for some meat for my dog,” Stiger said.

  “Yes, sir,” the clerk said. “I will call for your slave at once.”

  It did not surprise Stiger in the slightest Delvaris had kept a slave as a manservant. There was a very good chance that back in the capital, Delvaris, a man from an extremely wealthy and powerful house, owned hundreds of slaves, if not thousands. Slavery was widespread throughout the empire. Stiger had even grown up with them as a fixture in his household.

  “Come,” Stiger said to the animal and pushed aside the flap and stepped into his office, or really Delvaris’s office, another tent. Dog walked in before Father Thomas, Theo, and Sabinus followed him inside. Sabinus dropped the tent flap back in place behind them.

  Stiger felt as if he were trespassing. The feeling lasted only a moment before it passed. Delvaris was dead. As the man’s direct descendent, it could be argued all of this now belonged to him. He glanced around. It was a large tent, of similar dimensions to the adjoining administrative tent. The fabric was of the finest quality. The rug that went from tent wall to tent wall was magnificent. The pattern depicted a likeness of Emperor Karus sitting upon the marble curule chair, a symbol of imperium. Stiger figured the rug had cost a fortune.

  A large camp table occupied the center of the tent. A lit lamp sat atop it, as did an unrolled map. Along the left wall was a trunk that Stiger assumed was for important documents. There were several stools, and one that was slightly better in quality sat underneath the table. The others had been placed neatly against the left wall, waiting for use. Another smaller table sat along the right wall. On it rested a pitcher and two mugs.

  Theo immediately stepped over, clearly hoping it held wine. He picked up the pitcher, peered inside, and then, with a look of disgust, set it back down with a hollow thunk.

  “Really?” Sabinus asked and shook his head at the dwarf.

  “It was a long ride,” Theo grumbled.

  Stiger went over to the center table with the lamp and map. It was a rough sketch of the valley from a camp scribe. Stiger glanced down at the map and studied it. The map wasn’t as detailed as the one he had in the future, but it was good enough. He noticed the map ended at the southern end of the valley. It did not include Forkham. Dog went to a corner and lay down on the rug, curling up.

  “Come over here,” Stiger said, looking up at Sabinus, who had remained by the door.

  Sabinus stepped over to the table. Stiger gave him a hard look and then lowered his voice so the clerks would not overhear. “Do you intend to cause me difficulty in what I must do? Will you stop me from taking command of the legion?”

  Sabinus said nothing for several heartbeats, clearly weighing his thoughts. He responded in a hushed tone that was nearly a whisper. “After all that I have seen and learned, I do believe there are larger things at play.”

  “That’s quite an understatement,” Theo said.

  Sabinus spared the dwarf an unpleasant look and then continued.

  “Though I would prefer the real Delvaris, as legate, you clearly are the one meant to command. Father Thomas has vouched for you.” The centurion glanced over at the paladin, who gave a curt nod of agreement. “He explained it is meant to be this way. The emperor’s letter also makes it plain you are to be placed firmly in command. Though I dislike misleading the men and my fellow officers as to your identity, I will say nothing. I will do my best to follow your orders, sir.”

  Stiger suspected there was a catch to that assertion. “As long as?”

  Sabinus pursed his lips. “As long as it does not unduly jeopardize the legion or put the empire at risk, sir. How is that?”

  “Fair enough,” Stiger said with no little amount of relief, accepting the centurion’s conditions. He motioned the other two over and then tapped the map, pointing to the legion’s encampment. “Now, look at this. We are here. When the enemy next ventures out, other than to simply raid, they will come in much greater strength, most likely in overwhelming numbers. Does anyone disagree with that assessment?”

  “I concur, sir,” Sabinus said.

  “It sounds logical,” Father Thomas said. “And we both know that is what will happen.”

  Sabinus looked sharply at the paladin before turning his gaze back to Stiger. Theo said nothing, but there was a shrewdness to his gaze.

  “I th
ink it is safe to say their entire army is not yet assembled,” Stiger said.

  “Why do you say that, sir?” Sabinus asked. “They clearly came at the encampment in good numbers.”

  “If Therik had his army assembled,” Stiger said, “don’t you think he would have used it and swamped these defenses? Or at the very least remained in the valley and bottled the legion up?”

  “You have a point there,” Theo said. “If Therik’s army was ready to go, he would have sent everyone and not just raided the valley. No, he is waiting for greater strength and the priests to bless any major move against us.”

  “That is why we must strike first,” Stiger said. “I believe we have a chance to hit them while they don’t expect it and provoke a reaction. I want them to come at us with the forces they have on hand, not when they are good and ready.”

  “Provoke them how?” Sabinus asked, his eyes narrowing. “What do you intend?”

  “It doesn’t show it on this map,” Stiger said, “but just off of the edge here, by Riverton, is a small valley by the name of Forkham. There is an orc temple to Castor there.”

  “You know of that?” Theo asked, with raised eyebrows.

  “I do.”

  “Besides the temple,” Theo said, “there is a town in that valley, too. Perhaps two hundred orcs live there.”

  “If I understand it correctly,” Stiger said, “this temple is considered one of their holiest sites. I intend to attack their valley and raze the temple to the ground.”

  “Razing the temple will, I think, just piss them off,” Sabinus said.

  “That is what I am counting on,” Stiger said. “I want to make it hard for Therik and the priests to resist the rage of their warriors over the destruction of the temple to their god. With any luck, he should feel compelled to make a move against us.”

  “How can you be sure about Therik’s army and where it is?” Sabinus’s brow furrowed into lines. “What if they are waiting for us to leave the security of the encampment?”

  “He does have a point,” Father Thomas said, looking meaningfully at Stiger. “They might be waiting for us to make such a move.”

  Stiger gave a slow nod and then looked over at Theo. “Brogan said Therik’s army was assembling somewhere else. His spies had reported it as such. Where was that?”

  “Berke’Tah,” Theo said. “It is a large valley further to the north, four days away, nowhere near Forkham. It is where Castor’s main temple resides and is deep in orc lands.”

  “Could they have marched the army here quicker than we did from Garand Kos?”

  “Doubtful,” Theo said. “The orcs don’t believe in roads. They’d be stuck on mountain goat trails and paths. They’d also have to haul along their supplies. Any movement would be a major undertaking.”

  “I’ve been to Forkham and recall it being a very small valley,” Stiger said. “I don’t think Therik could put an entire army there. Do you?”

  “You’ve been there?” Theo seemed shocked by this.

  “Do you think they could fit Therik’s army in Forkham?” Stiger asked of Theo, ignoring the other’s comment. He did not feel inclined to explain further. “I am concerned about them hiding one and ambushing us.”

  “No,” Theo said. “The valley is just too small and the path in is, as you likely know, confined. If there were any surprises there, you should be able to disengage and pull back to the valley. And if Therik starts his army from Berke’Tah, he is committed. Once he gets here, he must attack. Brogan’s spies and informers have confirmed he does not have the supplies on hand for a sustained action. It is also likely why the valley was raided. Therik will need all of the food he can lay his hands on.”

  “Then at worst there may only be a portion of Therik’s army in Forkham,” Stiger said.

  “I would agree with that statement,” Theo said. “They may also be spread out through the handful of villages in the mountains around Forkham. You should have no problem getting in and out.”

  Stiger gave a nod and looked from face to face.

  “It is settled. I intend to hit Forkham hard,” Stiger said. “After the temple is razed, we will return to the valley and”—Stiger traced his finger back along the map heading north—“to here, where this river crossing is.”

  “Isn’t that the river we crossed by Bridgetown?”

  “Yes, it is,” Stiger said.

  “Where you fought your battle in the future?” Sabinus looked at him, eyes searching Stiger’s face.

  “And will fight another,” Stiger said. He wouldn’t be taking the entire legion to Forkham, but a good portion of it. “We will send our engineers and several cohorts to begin digging in and fortifying the ridgeline on the north side of the river. In addition, our artillery will be sent there as well. We will strike at Forkham, then fall back, moving our encampment as well. We will continue to fortify the river position until the orcs come for us. With any luck, the destruction of the temple and town should provoke the response I desire.”

  “If your plan works, it may mean we fight Therik without Brogan’s help,” Sabinus said. “What if Brogan doesn’t arrive in time and we find ourselves outnumbered and in a bad position? What then?”

  “We retreat to the mountain and the dwarves will seal us in,” Stiger said. “You’ve seen those defenses. They are solid.”

  “Why don’t we just go there first?” Sabinus asked. “Let the orcs hammer away at those big gates.”

  Stiger and Father Thomas shared a look. Stiger considered explaining further, but the paladin shook his head slightly.

  “Because,” Father Thomas said, “we must draw the minion out. The mountain is honeycombed with tunnels and mines. If we choose to fight inside the mountain, the orcs will go underground, and digging the minion out of a dark hole is, in my mind, not preferable. We may never find it and the vile thing will remain on the loose causing trouble for years to come. No, fighting on ground of our choosing will make it that much easier for us to draw it out and deal with it. That is the true purpose to bringing Therik and his army to battle. The minion must be killed.”

  Stiger was pleased that the paladin had grasped his plan and saved him from having to explain about the vision Rarokan had shared.

  “This creature of Castor.” Theo lowered his voice. “This is the one that killed the legate?”

  “Yes,” Stiger said. “Father Thomas and I must face it.”

  “And you think it will come?” Sabinus asked.

  “I know it will,” Stiger said, understanding it would very well mean his death if the vision Rarokan had shown him was true.

  I shall not let you die, Rarokan said.

  “And what of the people in the valley?” Sabinus asked. “What about them during all this? We will be effectively inviting an orc army into the valley.”

  After Stiger had conceived of his plan, he had given the people of the valley much thought as he rode to the encampment, but had not been able to decide what to do. They’d passed by burned villages and towns, along with numerous people who were now homeless. He rubbed his jaw as he considered the problem. The last time he had evacuated people to Old City, one of the dwarven chieftains had betrayed his thane. That had not worked out so well. Stiger wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Then it hit him. There was a simple solution to this problem.

  “I will dispatch our cavalry to advise and recommend that the people evacuate the valley,” Stiger said. “We can arm them with any excess weapons we have on hand and send them out of the valley through Castle Vrell and to the encampment for the legion’s followers. I am thinking we set the civilians up on the other side of the fortress, the forest side with the followers. The camp will need to be expanded, but it gets them away and out of the valley.”

  “The orcs won’t get past the garrison at Grata’Kor,” Theo said. “A thousand of my people hold the great fortress.”

  “I agree,” Stiger said, thinking on the great walls of the castle that guarded the pass into the Vrell Val
ley.

  “What about food?” Sabinus asked. “Without food, they will go hungry.”

  Sabinus was right, Stiger realized. He couldn’t give them the legion’s food, for the men needed it. Though the orcs had burned and carried much off, Stiger understood there would still be food and consumables in the valley.

  “We encourage them to take as much food as they can carry. Once we relocate our own supplies to our new encampment, we can utilize our mules, carts, and wagons to help them move food and supply from the valley to the camp.” Stiger paused and turned to look over at his friend. “Theo, do you think after all of this has blown over, Brogan will help with the food situation? Winter’s coming and without a harvest, there will be starvation.”

  “He will,” Theo said. “I am sure of it.”

  “Sir,” Sabinus said, “this is all gonna take some time. Therik’s army may come before we can accomplish all of this. Are you sure you want to strike today and provoke them sooner rather than later?”

  “Yes,” Stiger said. “I don’t want to give Therik any more time to get his army together. Besides, by the time we reach Forkham Valley, it will be dusk, perhaps even early evening. If we wait until tomorrow, the orcs will likely come again tonight to raid. That will put the civilians at further risk and make moving them out of the valley even more difficult.” Stiger paused a moment to suck in a breath. “The orcs had a busy time of it last night and will likely be exhausted and resting, if not celebrating. With a little bit of fortune, we will catch them by surprise.”

  “Might I make a make a recommendation, sir?” Sabinus said.

  “Of course,” Stiger said.

  “Place Salt in command of fortifying the ridgeline. He’s a taskmaster to be sure, but he knows his fortifications, sir. He has a lifetime of experience and is good at getting things done. Salt will make sure the engineers do things right.”

  “Very well, I will put him in charge then.” Stiger lowered his voice and leaned nearer to the centurion. “What is the name of my lead clerk?”