“He also called you his apprentice,” Stiger said.
The grin slipped from Thoggle’s face. It was all the confirmation Stiger needed.
“Salt.” Stiger spun around and hollered so that the camp prefect could hear him. He needed to think on what he’d just been told. “I am going for a walk along the line.”
“It will do the men good to see you out and about, sir.”
“Want company?” Theo asked, stepping nearer. The dwarf had been close enough to hear much of their conversation over noise of the fighting. Stiger was certain the others had not been able to overhear. Theo’s eyes looked concerned, something Stiger thoroughly felt.
Stiger gave a nod and made his way to the ladder. Dog was waiting for him below. The animal looked far from calm and was pacing back and forth. When his feet touched the ground, Dog stopped and padded up to him. He patted the animal on the head and received a lick on the hand for his efforts. Theo jumped from the last rung to the dirt.
Stiger made first for Sabinus, since his cohort was the nearest and holding the center of the line with First Cohort. Sabinus was speaking with another centurion as they approached. At the sight of Stiger coming his way, Sabinus said something that was clearly an order. The centurion shot a glance over at Stiger, gave a nod, and stepped away.
“Sir,” Sabinus shouted as Stiger and Theo made their way through the loose ranks of waiting men. Their eyes fell upon Stiger as he passed. Their faces were grim, but he also sensed determination there and that pleased him. As anticipated, word had spread about the miracle of healing Therik and also Stiger being the High Father’s champion. He noticed more than a few who made the High Father’s sign of faith. That made him somewhat uncomfortable, but their belief in him was necessary. He would use it to get them through the hours ahead.
“How are you holding up?” Stiger shouted back. The noise of the fight was much louder than it had been a few yards behind the line and above it on the platform.
“We’re doing just fine, sir,” Sabinus said. “Just fine. My boys are sticking it to them something good. The defenses we constructed are strong, which is a great advantage.” He gestured out at the enemy. “They are determined, but we can and will hold, sir.”
“Very good,” Stiger said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will, sir,” Sabinus said.
“Good man.” Stiger patted the centurion on the shoulder. He stepped away, moving on to Second Cohort.
They found Centurion Nantus pacing behind the first rank, which was manning the wall. Four ranks of men stood just behind the first, with men from the second rank occasionally stepping forward to help by jabbing over a shoulder or shield with a javelin or to replace an injured man.
“Keep your bloody shields up,” Nantus was shouting as he moved back and forth. The centurion’s manner was confident but at the same time irritated as he paced behind his men, calling out encouragements. It was clear he wanted his men more afraid of him than the enemy. “Remember your training! Use your shields to hammer at them. Come on there! Put your back into it.”
Nantus suddenly charged forward to the wall, where three legionaries were struggling to force a ladder back and off the wall. Two orcs had climbed up to the top of the ladder, each with a sword. One-handed, they were poking back at the legionaries, who were having difficulty defending themselves as they shoved at the heavy ladder. The orcs, for their part, were trying to clamber over the wall, and the heads of those below poked up over the barricade for a look.
Nantus pulled out his sword and lunged over the heads of his men, plunging the sword into an orc’s neck. The creature stiffened and dropped its sword. It fell back off the ladder.
Another legionary from the second rank stepped forward and stabbed the last orc in the arm. As the legionary was preparing to jab again, the orc, sensing his helpless position, leapt off the ladder into the darkness and was lost from view.
“Excellent work!” Nantus roared. “Now push!”
Together, the legionaries pushed the ladder off the wall before those just below managed to climb higher. The ladder tottered for a moment in space and then fell backwards. Nantus patted one of the men on the back.
The centurion stepped back, looked to the left and then right. He pointed at a man with his sword who clearly had just been hit on the head by something. The legionary had removed his helmet and was holding the side of his head with one hand. “Help that man back!”
Men from the second rank rushed forward to assist.
Nantus saw Stiger approach and stepped back from the line. He pulled a rag from a pocket in his tunic and began wiping the blood from his sword.
“How is it going here?” Stiger asked, having to shout. The enemy was having difficulty not only reaching the top of the barricade but gaining any sort of purchase. Still, it was good to ask, for the centurion might have concerns that Stiger needed to hear. By posing it as a question, he was giving the junior officer an opportunity to speak up.
“My boys are holding, sir,” Nantus shouted back into Stiger’s ear. “We’re really giving it to them.”
“Keep it up,” Stiger said. “We can’t let them over the wall.”
“They won’t get over, sir,” Nantus said. “Don’t you worry about us none.”
“I am counting on that,” Stiger said. “Carry on, centurion.”
“Aye, sir,” Nantus said.
Stiger glanced around once more at Nantus’s men fighting along the line. He noticed the men from the subsequent ranks waiting to move forward had their eyes on him. Salt was right, it was good for them to see their legate out and about. He moved off.
They encountered the same confidence and professionalism with each stop. Stiger saw nothing wrong or needing adjustment. The centurions of the Thirteenth Legion were all veterans with years of experience behind them. They knew their job and understood what needed doing.
“You humans are tenacious fighters,” Theo said, after their fifth stop. They were behind the right side of the line, standing a handful of yards behind the last rank of legionaries. “I had heard of your legions. I’ve read the histories of the time before our peoples came to this world, but I’d never have believed had I not seen this with my own eyes.”
“This is simply fighting behind a defensive line,” Stiger said. “It is necessary because of the size of the enemy army. However, you should see us in the field against a comparable force, where we can maneuver. There, out in the open, we can be just as frightening, if not more so.”
Theo looked over at him, clearly wondering if Stiger was exaggerating.
“The legions are designed to be mobile for attack,” Stiger said, “but at the same time they are just as good dug in and on the defensive. These”—Stiger held out his arms to encompass the legion—“are the best heavy infantry this world has ever seen. They are professional soldiers. They continually train, drill, and work for times like this. Life is not easy for these men. They are exercised hard and kept on a very short leash. Discipline is rigid almost to the point of inflexibility. When placed in the shit, where others break and run, these boys stand firm. They push back, for they are accustomed to victory and can’t conceive of defeat. I count myself lucky just to have the honor to serve alongside them.” He paused, looking around at the legionaries holding the line. “This is my home. I am meant to be with the legions.”
Theo gave a slow nod as he glanced around. He was clearly seeing the legionaries for the first time as the professional fighting force they were.
“What do you think about what Thoggle said?” Stiger asked.
Theo seemed surprised by the question and sudden change of subject. He hesitated before replying.
“I am just a simple soldier,” Theo said, “appointed advisor to the thane by an accident of birth and the ability to match Brogan drink for drink. Well, almost drink for drink. Don’t tell him, but I think he’s the better drinker.”
“We both know you are more than a simple soldier,” Sti
ger said, “as you’ve always been.”
Theo eyed him for several heartbeats and then gave a half shrug.
“I suspected you would figure it out at some point,” Theo said. “Honestly, it took you long enough. I am Brogan’s spymaster, one of the few the thane trusts implicitly, which is why he sent me to get to know you.”
“To spy on me?” Stiger asked. “Or to learn if he could work with me?”
“At first, to see if he could use you,” Theo said. “Now, I think, after Garand Kos, he looks on you differently.”
“As?”
“If not an equal,” Theo said, “then an ally.”
Stiger thought on that for a moment. It did not surprise him, not at all. It seemed everyone wanted to use him. He regarded Theo, a dwarf he personally liked.
“I’ve come to consider you a friend,” Stiger said.
“I don’t have very many friends,” Theo said, with a funny look that bespoke sadness mixed with an uncaring indifference. “Most of my people view me as an ass kisser, a cousin of the thane only eager to partake in Brogan’s largess and wealth. They know not my true role.”
“Thigra knows,” Stiger said, “doesn’t he?”
“He does,” Theo said and then hesitated. “I also consider you a friend. Be warned, my duty to my thane transcends friendships.”
“I understand,” Stiger said. “Now, about Thoggle?”
“You’re in an unenviable position,” Theo said.
“I was hoping for more than that,” Stiger said.
“Concerning the minion, I think the wizard is right. The creature is too afraid to make big changes that will affect the future. But if I were it, I’d try to cheat a little to win, like the ambush at Garand Kos. That caught everyone by surprise.”
“What about the part with Delvaris’s death?”
“From what I understand, the World Gate activated unexpectedly, while Brogan was giving a tour to the legate,” Theo said. “It is possible Delvaris was simply in the way when the minion wanted out. Some would think a pissed-off dragon is motivation to leave in a hurry.”
“But?” Stiger prompted, sensing more from Theo.
“It was great timing by the minion.”
“Which means you don’t think it was a coincidence?”
Theo shook his head.
“Neither do I,” Stiger said. “Not at all.”
“Somehow,” Theo said, “it knew you would take Delvaris’s place.”
“That is my thinking as well,” Stiger said. “I just don’t know how.”
“That doesn’t really matter at the moment,” Theo said. “What does is the here and now. You need to focus your thoughts on this battle and winning it. Judging by the minion’s actions to date, I would expect more than just a frontal assault on your defenses.” Theo looked back on the line. “This may all be a sideshow to fix our attention.”
“I agree,” Stiger said, looking over the backside of the defensive line. “I just wish I knew what the creature is planning.”
He started walking again and Theo fell in at his side. It was time to see the next cohort.
“Dog, come.”
An hour later, they were back at the platform. Stiger found Therik seething when he climbed up.
“They waste lives needlessly,” Therik shouted, looking Stiger’s way and throwing a hand out to point across the river. “This position is too strong. Why do they do it? Why waste lives of my people?”
“Because Castor doesn’t care,” Thoggle said. “Your warriors’ lives matter little, other than as tools to be used and discarded. You should know this.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t care?” Therik asked, clearly distressed despite his words earlier to the contrary. “They are his people, too.”
Salt and Theo stepped nearer, listening to the conversation.
“The objective is not taking this ridge,” Thoggle said.
“Then what is?” Therik asked.
Thoggle turned and looked meaningfully to Stiger.
“I don’t understand,” Therik said.
Thoggle waved a hand at Stiger.
A brief tingling ran through him, almost as if Stiger had touched the hilt of the sword. But this was different. It happened so fast, he wondered if he had imagined it.
The effect it had on Therik was profound. The orc took a step back and pointed a finger at Stiger.
“Who are you?” Therik asked and then turned to Thoggle. “How did you do that?”
“I am Bennulius Stiger, and the wizard concealed my true features.”
“You are not Delvaris,” Therik said.
“No,” Thoggle said. “He is not. Delvaris died months ago. The minion killed him. Stiger is the High Father’s champion, and that is why the minion is here.” Thoggle stopped and waved his staff around the battlefield. “All of this is just so the he and minion can face off against one another to decide matters between gods.”
Therik looked from Thoggle to Stiger, clearly wanting to disbelieve.
“It is all true,” Stiger said. “And it is one heck of a story. I promise, when this is all done, to tell you everything.”
Therik glanced over at Theo, who was looking at them with a smirk.
“You knew?” Therik asked.
“Of course,” Theo answered. “There is a larger game at play.”
“I meant what I said, there is a place for you here at my side.” Stiger glanced over to his left, noticing Salt, who appeared wholly unsurprised by the wizard’s revelation.
“You knew, too?” Stiger asked the camp prefect, surprised.
“I did,” Salt said. “Arvus informed me after he went to see you at the farm.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I saw no need, sir, as I had already seen the emperor’s letter. Legate Delvaris shared it with me himself.” The camp prefect stepped closer and offered a hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Legate Stiger.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Stiger said, taking the hand and shaking it warmly.
“I think it time to put you back,” Thoggle said, “before someone other than our small circle here sees you.”
The wizard waved a hand at Stiger. He felt the tingling again.
“He looks same,” Therik said.
“Once you’ve seen his true form,” Thoggle said, “the web I spun no longer works.”
An enemy ball whistled by the platform, missing by mere feet. It impacted the ground harmlessly behind them.
Stiger put Therik from his mind and turned back to look on the battlefield. Under the pale moonlight, the enemy down in the bowl looked like a mass of bugs surging forward toward the trench and wall. The trench had nearly been filled in by bodies as far as he could see. The orcs could walk across the trench now. They stood, almost in line, waiting for a chance at a ladder. Some of the bodies under their feet moved with life.
The artillery, along with the archers, were still hammering the bowl, which was chock full of the enemy. Many of the enemy’s heavy infantry had resorted to holding their shields above their heads in groups to protect themselves against the rain of missiles. That only partially worked against the arrow barrage, since their rounded shields did not interlock well. The shields were nothing against the power of the bolt throwers, which punched right through to strike those sheltering beneath. The shields were also useless against ballista balls.
The enemy had suffered several thousand casualties, and still they came on. Stiger’s gaze traveled toward the bridge. Formations were stacked up behind it, waiting their turn to move over it and join the battle. Across the way, Stiger could see thousands of campfires twinkling against the darkness.
He glanced up at the moon as a cloud slid across it. The battlefield darkened just a little. Stiger remembered what Therik had said about his people seeing better at night. The clear skies might soon pass to overcast. That would limit visibility. He knew he had to begin thinking about changing the dynamic. It was time to start preparing for his flanking movement,
knowing it would take hours alone to bridge the river. He turned to Thoggle.
“It is time to end this. To do that, I need Brogan’s army. I understand they are not far away in Old City dealing with a goblin incursion. Can you hurry the thane along? Is there anything you could do on that front? The real battle is here.”
“I would need to leave and, yes, there is likely something I can do.” Thoggle glanced out at the enemy’s campfires. “Be certain on this, for once I go, I will be unable to return for several hours. Our enemy will sense my absence. They may have been holding back because I am present.”
“We are slaughtering them here.” Stiger walked up to the railing. Thoggle followed him, painfully stumping after. “While we kill them by the bushel, my men are taking casualties. As my men begin to tire, those casualties will continue to mount over the next few hours. We can easily hold until morning and beyond. However, to do what needs to be done, to break them and bring the minion to battle, I need Brogan’s army. If he delays too long, my men will become blown and will be unable to go over to the attack when the time comes. We need his army here, sooner rather than later.”
“Very well,” Thoggle said. “I will see if I can get his army here by morning. I wish you good fortune.”
He tapped his staff on the wood planking. It flashed a bright light that was immediately followed by a loud CRACK.
Thoggle was gone.
“Send for Centurion Sabinus,” Stiger said to Salt. “I have a job for him.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Stiger looked up from the map he had been studying. There was a small crowd gathered around the table in the command tent to study the map. Salt, Hux, Thigra, and Theo were present. Therik, on Stiger’s invitation, had joined them as well and hulked over everyone. The fighting along the defensive line could be heard in the background. It was a constant reminder that every moment Stiger remained here was one he was not supervising the battle.
The administrative tent stood just a few feet away. It buzzed with increased activity as messengers came and went. Stiger glanced over and saw both Sabinus and Setinnunus working their way toward his command tent.
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