The Tiger's Time

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Are you certain the future will be the same?” Stiger asked. “Events did not unfold as they should have, or as I understood them to have. The minion cheated, so I did also by sending Sabinus and Brogan to the upriver crossing. That was opposite from what I know happened.” Stiger paused a moment, thinking it through. “In hindsight, I guess it was a good thing I chose to cheat too.”

  “You did?” Menos asked with what Stiger took to be mild surprise, mixed in with a hint of irritation. “I take back what I just said about you not being stupid.”

  Thoggle shot the noctalum an unhappy look and then turned back to Stiger.

  “As you are aware, we don’t fully understand how time works,” Thoggle said. “We do believe there are a set of rules by which the gods abide. Whether that is mandatory or by mutual agreement, we simply do not know. We know for certain little things can be changed, but not important events.”

  “Had Castor succeeded in killing you in our time period,” Menos added, “we think there would’ve been profound consequences. That would have been a serious event modification. The war amongst the gods would have, in all likelihood, escalated as other gods moved to bend the same rules to gain advantage over the others. Chaos would have followed.”

  “So . . . you think these rules are most likely adhered to by mutual consent of all the gods?” Stiger asked. “As opposed to being mandatory rules that cannot be broken?”

  “We believe it to be that way,” Thoggle confirmed. “But again, we do not know. You must understand, this is only supposition”

  “In answer to your original question, when you return we don’t know what you will face,” Menos said. “We hope it will be the time stream you left behind, albeit with very minor changes. In truth, it could be another reality, ours and not the one you came from. Again, we are unsure. We do know that once you return, as the High Father’s champion there are other alignments that will seek to stop you. We both agree your greatest trials are to come.”

  “Fantastic,” Stiger said. “You both are rays of sunshine. Do you ever bring good news?”

  “We tell you how we see it,” Thoggle said.

  Stiger rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his feet. A moment later, he looked back up at them.

  “Well, then,” Stiger said. “I’ve been thinking about going back, and I have some ideas I would like you both to consider.”

  “About that,” Thoggle said. “Before we go further, you should know it will take us time to prepare for your return.”

  “How much time?” Stiger asked.

  “We think two to three years, maybe more,” Thoggle answered. “I need to store up the necessary will.” Thoggle paused and held his thumb and index finger slightly apart from one another. “And . . . there are a few tiny things you and Brogan must do first.”

  Stiger looked from wizard to noctalum and back again, suddenly wary.

  “I am not going to like this, am I?”

  “Probably not,” the noctalum said. “It starts with the elves.”

  “You must get something for us,” Thoggle said.

  “Let me guess,” Stiger said, “the elves will not want to part with it?”

  “I may have to once again revise my opinion of your intelligence level,” Menos said.

  “Great,” Stiger said and shook his head, wondering what madness they wanted him to undertake. “Just bloody great.”

  Epilogue

  (The Present)

  Braddock, thane of the dwarves, looked upon the hole in the air between the two crystal pillars. It was black, ominous, and appeared bottomless. The Gate room throbbed with power, so much so it made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. The minion had stepped through the hole just moments before, escaping through the portal to the past.

  “I will go also,” Braddock said to Stiger and Father Thomas, the words escaping his mouth before his brain could catch up. He stepped forward.

  “No,” Ogg said forcefully before being consumed by a wracking cough. “You must not. Only the two of them go back.”

  “You’ve known this?” Braddock asked, becoming irritated with the wizard.

  “From the moment my master took me on as an apprentice,” the wizard said. “I have been preparing for this my entire life.”

  “Thoggle knew also?” Braddock asked, stunned by the magnitude of what had been concealed from him. He was the thane. They should have told him.

  “Thoggle waits on the other side,” Ogg told him, coughing. Blood flecked his lips, which twisted into a sneer. “As does Brogan, your father.”

  “My father,” Braddock said, gazing toward the portal with an intense longing. Gods, he missed his father. What he would not give to see him again, to speak with him just one more time. He almost took a step forward toward the portal.

  “You must remain,” Ogg implored him. “Stiger must go. It is his destiny, his fate. He is the Tiger that the Oracle has spoken of.”

  “The Tiger’s Fate?” Braddock whispered, his mind racing as he thought back on the oracle’s writings. If what Ogg said was true, Stiger’s future held a potential fate that was worse than death. “No . . .”

  “Now you understand, Braddock,” Ogg said. “The sword has always been meant for him, forged for his hand alone. He was not simply the restorer of the Compact, but also the direct instrument of prophecy, an important game piece of the gods.”

  “I . . .” Braddock turned to Stiger, completely shaken to his core. He was at a loss for words. He took a breath and settled for truth. “At first, I thought I would dislike you, but I’ve since learned you are a man of great legend. For that, you have my respect. Upon my personal legend, I will be here when you return through the World Gate. I will wait for you.”

  “The sword,” Stiger asked, looking over at the wizard. “What of it?”

  “You must master it . . . before it masters you,” Ogg said, and broke into a coughing fit, which wracked his body terribly. The wizard sucked in a ragged breath and almost fell to his knees. “I cannot hold the Gate open for much longer . . . You have to go!”

  Braddock watched as Stiger held the wizard’s gaze for a moment more then moved toward the Gate. He shared a glance with Father Thomas. Stiger regarded the hole for several heartbeats, then took a deep breath, as if about to jump into a pond. He stepped through, vanishing in an instant, as if he’d never been. Father Thomas followed and vanished a moment later.

  It had happened so fast that Braddock blinked in shock, then started as thunderclap snapped loudly about the Gate room.

  “Ogg! What have you done?” Braddock demanded, staring at the World Gate in horror. The portal had closed and everything had gone silent.

  “Only what was necessary,” the wizard replied, straightening up.

  Ogg had aged years in mere moments. Had Braddock not witnessed it, he would have thought it impossible.

  “You promised you would hold open the World Gate,” Braddock said.

  “I did nothing of the sort,” Ogg snapped.

  “You lied.” Braddock took a step backward. He had never known Ogg to deliberately lie. “You are truly without honor.”

  “I never lied,” Ogg said, his lip twisting with a sneer. “I told them both that as long as there is a wizard of great power holding the Gate open, travel between both sides is possible. I never promised to bring them back.”

  Braddock looked at Ogg, not quite believing what he was hearing. Without Stiger, the Oracle’s prophecy could not be completed. They were all doomed.

  “Braddock, it had to be done. Sending them back was the only way.”

  “How does that help us?” Braddock demanded.

  “Look around.” Ogg gestured about them. Braddock looked, and could now see beyond the columns. Where before there had been fire and smoke, now only a haze of smoke remained. The scene about the Gate room was one of complete desolation. It had been fairly wrecked. Braddock was relieved to see that Currose was stirring and showing signs life. The gre
at dragon had survived her encounter with the minion, and a wizard. Of her mate, nothing could be seen. Braddock wondered where he was.

  “Legate Stiger and Father Thomas set things right,” Ogg said, flashing Braddock a tired smile. The wizard seemed pleased with himself. “They succeeded.”

  “And died!” Braddock raged at the wizard. “You sent them back to die.”

  “I sent them back to set things right,” Ogg countered, “which they did. Dying was only a natural end to a means.”

  “You dare jest at a time like this? Who will make the choice?” Braddock pressed, becoming angry. “Who will choose when it is time?”

  “Someone will,” Ogg said in a tired tone of indifference. “Someone always does.”

  “The Oracle said—”

  “That is but one interpretation.”

  “One interpretation,” Braddock said, feeling sick. “Or just yours?”

  “Does it really matter at this point?” Ogg asked him wearily. “I was doing as I had to. There was never any other choice to be made. Thoggle knew this when he set me down this torturous path.”

  A clash of steel drew their attention toward the stairs and platform, which led back up to Grata’Jalor. Braddock was surprised that the balcony had remained intact. The sound of fighting intensified and drew nearer.

  “I am too weak to fight.” Ogg gripped the staff tightly. “All of my energy is spent. I have none left. Your sword may be required, My Thane.”

  Braddock hefted the sword that was still in his hand. Hrove’s warriors held Grata’Jalor. What a fool he had been to trust Hrove with such a critical task. It had nearly cost them everything. Braddock would call him to account. Such a betrayal could not be forgiven, and the payment for Hrove’s actions deserved to be remembered for an age. As the fighting grew closer, Braddock resolved to make an example of Hrove that future generations would have difficulty forgetting.

  Ogg and Braddock waited. The dragon roused herself, but it was clear she was in no condition to put up much of a fight. Dark reddish blood flowed freely from numerous wounds, pooling in the dust and around the debris. She looked at them rather blearily, and then up toward the balcony, from which an intense struggle could be heard. Screams, shouts, orders, and oaths echoed down to them from the passageway.

  The fight abruptly ended, punctuated by an agonized scream. This was followed by several indecipherable shouts and the pounding of many feet. Human legionaries burst onto the balcony, followed closely by Naggock, commander of Braddock’s bodyguard.

  Intensely relieved, Braddock let his sword fall, point resting upon the stone floor. The dragon allowed her head drop. It landed with a solid thud that he felt through his boots.

  “My Thane,” Naggock greeted from above before starting down the stairs. “I am relieved you live.”

  “No more than I,” Braddock said.

  Several more shouts and orders could be heard beyond the balcony. Sabinus and Eli emerged into the gate room. They stopped briefly to survey the scene below and then made their way down the stairs and warily passed the wounded dragon.

  “Tell me, what is going on out there?” Braddock asked Naggock.

  “It seems with the gates to the mountain closed, Hrove never expected to have to defend Grata’Jalor,” Naggock said. “The majority of his warriors appear to be in Old City.” A look of concern passed over Naggock’s face. He lowered his voice. “We think they have attacked the human refugees from the valley.”

  “Gods.” Braddock did not like the sound of that. If Hrove’s warriors slaughtered the humans, it would make relations going forward very difficult. “We will need to bring the army into the mountain and make sure we can save as many as possible.”

  “We think the other dragon is in Old City, too,” Naggock continued.

  “My mate is in Old City,” Currose told them, without bothering to lift her head. Her weak voice trembled. “I have let him know the World Gate is safe. He has told me what is left of Hrove’s warband is fleeing the city.”

  “They are fleeing your mate, then,” Braddock said.

  “No,” Currose answered, “they are not.”

  Sabinus glanced around. “Where is the legate?”

  Braddock looked over at Ogg before turning back to the centurion. “He has gone through the World Gate, back in time, to set things right.”

  “I see,” Sabinus said and smiled oddly, sheathing his sword. “I can’t tell you how very pleased I am to hear that.”

  Braddock could not understand the centurion’s reaction. “I am afraid he is not coming back.”

  Eli looked with sad eyes upon the World Gate.

  “You knew his fate,” Ogg accused, catching the elf’s look. “Do not deny it.”

  “I will not,” Eli replied with sadness. “Ben Stiger was a good friend. I have always known he would go without me into the past.”

  “Who will make the choice?” Braddock asked again. “He who is spoken of by the oracle is gone. Who will make the choice that must be made?”

  “I will,” a voice rang out from the balcony above.

  Braddock knew that voice. He looked up and blinked. It could not be true.

  “It is my fate, and my responsibility to make that choice. I will accept none other in my place.”

  Braddock looked over to Ogg, who appeared just as stunned. The wizard’s mouth hung open in astonishment.

  Impossibly, it was Stiger.

  The legate walked calmly down the stairs and over to them. The largest dog Braddock had ever seen followed him down the stairs. The dragon picked her head up off of the floor and regarded the legate. He nodded respectfully as he passed. The dog padded up to the dragon and their muzzles briefly touched and then parted. It was almost as if the two knew each other. Braddock shook his head and turned his gaze back to Stiger.

  The legate looked different than when Braddock had last seen him, just moments ago. The hair around his temples had grayed slightly, and his face looked older, more lined. Humans aged much quicker than dvergr, but even this seemed excessive. Braddock had no doubt this was the same man who had stepped through the World Gate, it was just that he was somehow older. There was also a tinge of sadness about him.

  “How?” Ogg breathed with a glance back at the World Gate. Then his eyes widened, and he began a low, harsh cackle, which turned into a deep belly laugh. Tears streamed from his eyes. “Thoggle, you old fixer . . . only you would pull one over on me like this . . . only you.”

  “What do you mean?” Braddock demanded of Ogg. “You just told me he died in the past. Here he is, alive and well. Explain yourself.”

  “The Tomb of the Thirteenth,” Ogg said. “Thoggle preserved the legate in stasis, just as he did First Cohort.” Ogg paused and turned to Stiger. “Garrack probably woke you when he did Sabinus. You stayed hidden so that you would not affect the flow of the time stream.”

  “It is true,” Stiger said to Braddock in the language of the dvergr. He was fluent in it, with just a touch of an accent. “Though it has only been minutes for you, I’ve not seen you in years. You should know I counted your father a very good friend. I hope you and I will one day grow as close.”

  “My father?” Braddock asked in his own language.

  “Brogan, Theo, and I spent many nights seeing who could out-drink the others. I am not ashamed to admit I often lost.”

  “Theo?” Braddock asked, confused.

  “Theogdin,” Stiger said.

  “Garrack’s father,” Braddock said with a nod, suddenly feeling the pain of the loss of his closest friend. “He was my father’s spymaster.”

  “And a good friend,” Stiger said.

  Braddock looked closer at the legate. Stiger had aged, but it was still the same man, just older and wiser. He was a man of two worlds now, Braddock thought, both the past and present. It was really remarkable.

  “Your father gave me this,” Stiger said, pulling a scroll from a pocket in his cloak. He handed it over. Braddock’s hand trembled as he
took it. “It is a letter from father to son. He asked that you open it in private. I believe it to be thoroughly personal.”

  Braddock looked down at the scroll and felt a moistness in his eyes he was oddly not ashamed of. He nodded thankfully and tucked it away in a pocket. Later, when he had time and some privacy, he would open it.

  Stiger turned to Eli. There was a moment of silence as they regarded one another.

  “I know why you chose me all those years ago,” Stiger said, switching back to common.

  “One day, I knew you would,” Eli said, “though I never expected you to become a friend.”

  “I know. It is good to see you again,” Stiger said and stepped forward to hug his friend. They slapped each other upon the back.

  “You have returned,” Eli said simply as they broke apart. “That is all that matters and what I had hoped for.”

  “Yes,” Stiger said.

  “How long has it been?” Eli asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “A little over five years,” Stiger said, “give or take a month.”

  Eli gave a nod.

  Stiger turned to Sabinus with a warm smile. “And you, it must have been torture not saying anything to me.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sabinus said with a broad smile. “It was, but I knew what was at stake. It was some of the men that had the hardest time of it. Welcome back, sir.”

  “Very good.” Stiger clapped the centurion fondly on the shoulder.

  “Where is Father Thomas?” Braddock asked. The effect of that question on Stiger was profound. A look of deep sadness and loss crossed his face.

  “Father Thomas will not be joining us.” The legate turned to Ogg. “How long do we have until the planes align?”

  “Around twenty-four months,” Ogg answered, to which Stiger nodded.

  There were some raised voices coming from above. Several legionaries appeared on the platform, along with an armed orc in legionary officer armor. Braddock grew angry at the sight of the creature.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Braddock demanded Stiger.