The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “I …” Ikuus shrugged off Lepidus’s hand.

  “Unless you want to go against us?” Hollux asked his captain, with a hard edge. “I would not recommend doing that, sir. It might … ah, prove unhealthy for you.”

  Ikuus did not respond as he looked over at his lieutenant. The color drained from his face. A moment later, he turned his gaze to Stiger, his mouth working.

  “Whose side are you on?” Therik demanded, taking a menacing step forward. The orc’s gaze bored into Ikuus. “Decide now.”

  The man took a half-step back before steadying himself.

  “If you choose to support Lears,” Stiger said, “you will be detained until we’ve resolved things and then allowed to leave, unharmed.”

  Ikuus’s jaw flexed as he turned back to Stiger. There was a long moment as he thought things through. He took a deep breath and drew himself to a position of attention.

  “In the last few months, I have come to know Lepidus, Spatz, and Hollux. All three are good men with years of experience behind them. They say you are too and have spoken highly of you. I ask to serve, Imperator. If you will grant me that honor, I will pledge my loyalty to your service.” Ikuus paused. “Unfortunately, I cannot pledge the loyalty of my house, as I am the youngest son. If you accept me, you will have mine.”

  Stiger studied the man for a long moment. He certainly seemed sincere enough. He sensed no deceit in Ikuus’s manner, even with Hollux’s recent threat and Therik’s intimidating behavior. He might not be all that quick, but Stiger decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone deserved a chance to prove themselves, and he would give Ikuus such an opportunity.

  “Your service is accepted,” Stiger said.

  “Thank you, Imperator,” Ikuus said.

  Stiger turned his gaze to Lepidus. “I take it Tiro found you?”

  “He did,” Lepidus said. “Just before we received our orders.”

  “Where is he?” Stiger asked, looking around, for he did not see his old, wily sergeant. Stiger had been worried for his safety after sending him off.

  “Back with Spatz,” Hollux said and glanced over at Ikuus. “We did not think it wise to give away our intentions ahead of time.”

  Stiger felt an immense wave of relief that Tiro was all right. He glanced in the direction of the Palatheum Hill. Sitting upon its crest, the palace could be seen from their current position. “Do you know where Lears is?”

  “He’s holed up in the palace, with that bastard tribune watching over him like a mother hen,” Lepidus said.

  “What tribune?” Stiger asked, turning back.

  “Handi,” Lepidus said. “Do you know him?”

  “Handi?” Stiger growled, feeling an intense stab of anger at the mention of the man’s name. He also felt a wave of deep disgust. Then the wheels turned. It all made sense now. Handi had not just fled Lorium, he had ridden straight through and likely had arrived just before Treim’s messenger. As an officer, he would have had access to the courier stations and a change of mount. He would not have been questioned.

  The bastard had gotten to the senate first. The senators had acted, and swiftly too, which was unlike them. Who knew what lies the man had told them.

  “I know him,” Stiger said. “He is a snake.”

  “He seems to be the one really giving the orders,” Lepidus said. “He passed ours along to me personally. I don’t even think he conferred with Lears first.”

  “And what exactly were your orders?” Stiger asked.

  “We were to demand your surrender, with an assurance that you would not be harmed,” Hollux said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Once you turned yourself over, you were to be executed on the spot.” Hollux paused. “I couldn’t believe it when Lepidus shared the orders. Neither could Spatz.”

  Stiger glanced in the direction of the other company and saw Spatz walking across the square toward them.

  Therik growled. “There is no honor in such behavior.”

  “Honestly, I think Lears is frightened that you are in the city,” Lepidus said. “He’s hiding somewhere in the palace and seems content to be letting Handi run things. And”—the captain of the Tenth glanced around at his men and those of Seventh Company—“that worked to our favor.”

  Stiger thought it odd that Handi had been able to worm his way into not only Tioclesion’s confidence, but now Lears’s too. He had the feeling that something else was at play here. He just did not know what that was.

  Lepidus held his hands out about them and chuckled as Spatz joined them. “It seems Handi did not know our history, or that you commanded the Seventh prior to heading south. He sent the best he had on hand, hard-charging veteran legionaries, to deal with you.”

  “Thank the gods for the man’s ignorance,” Marcus said.

  “I love it,” Stiger said, then turned to face the other captain. Spatz was Stiger’s height, fit, and a hard-looking man. He had a scar on the base of his chin and his eyes were brown and intense. “Spatz, it’s good to see you.”

  “You’re still an asshole,” Spatz replied, then softened his tone. “Did you really liberate Lorium and crush an army of the confederacy? We all know what rumors are like. They spread like wildfire and get embellished in the telling. There’s even some bullshit about you being the High Father’s chosen one. Is any of it true?”

  “Yes,” Eli said, before Stiger could answer, “I can confirm, he is an asshole.”

  “I’m seriously thinking of having Ruga gag you,” Stiger said to Eli. Then he turned to Spatz. “It’s true, I found the Thirteenth Legion and, with the help of allies, liberated Lorium and crushed two enemy armies. There’s more, but yes”—Stiger glanced at Eli—“like you, I am an asshole.”

  “I guess it takes one to know one.” Spatz gave an amused grunt. “So, we’re gonna really do this and kill that bastard Lears? We’re going to commit treason against the empire?”

  “It’s only treason if we lose,” Marcus said. “The victors get the privilege of writing the history.”

  “With your help, we can get it done,” Stiger said.

  “Well,” Spatz said, “Lears screwed up in a major way commanding the Third and got a lot of our comrades killed, including half of my company.” He fell silent for a heartbeat. When he spoke next, his tone was grim and low. “I can only imagine what a shit show it would become with him in command of the empire, especially with the confederacy knocking on our door.”

  “Agreed,” Stiger said.

  “You,” Spatz said to Stiger, “I think, are the better choice.”

  “Again we are in agreement,” Stiger said.

  “Then, Imperator”—Spatz pulled himself to a position of attention—“I pledge myself and my company to you and ending Lears’s reign.”

  Stiger took a step forward, studying the captain. He extended his hand. Spatz regarded it for a long moment, almost with distaste, then with a shrug of his shoulders took it and shook.

  “I accept,” Stiger said and took a step back. He looked at Lepidus, who was the most senior of the officers present. “Tell me, do you know how many men Lears and Handi have guarding the palace?”

  “About a thousand,” Lepidus said, “a mixed bag of militia and auxiliaries. There is one light company of legionaries, from the Thirtieth. I understand Handi, late last night, sent word for several companies from the army to be recalled.”

  “When we left the palace,” Spatz said, “they had not yet arrived.”

  Stiger glanced around, thinking. He would have to send word to Treim’s household and Aetius’s wife, Desindra, in the event they could still manage to assemble the men that were promised. That said, there was no real time to wait for them. He would move against Lears with what he had on hand, which was a considerable force.

  “We now have three full companies of legionaries and Ruga’s overstrength century, with Corus’s praetorians,” Stiger said. “Say, a little over seven hundred men of good quality. Though, Spatz, Lepidus tells me your men are unteste
d. Is that a correct assessment?”

  “That’s true,” Spatz replied, “but they will hold their own. On that, you have my word. I’ve worked them hard to get them into shape.”

  Stiger gave a nod. “Good. It’s enough to take the fight to Lears.”

  Lepidus gestured with his chin. “Is that Corus over there?”

  “It is.” Stiger turned and regarded the two bodies for a moment. “I killed him in personal combat.”

  “Good.” Hollux spat on the ground. “He had it coming, especially after Lears had him lash you. I swear the bastard enjoyed that.”

  “I never much liked him either,” Spatz said to Stiger. “What was done to you by Lears and Corus was very ungentlemanly. It should never have come to pass.”

  “All right,” Stiger said, not wanting to bring up old wounds. He wanted to move things along. “What’s happened is firmly in the past. We must focus on what is before us. We’re going to march on the palace. Once there, we will surround it, so that none can escape, and demand their surrender. Anyone who lays down their arms is to be spared.”

  “And if they don’t surrender?” Marcus asked.

  “Then we go through them. We make sure we kill both Lears and Handi,” Stiger said. There was a long moment of silence. “They cannot be permitted to escape. Any questions?”

  “No, sir,” Lepidus said.

  “None,” Hollux said.

  “I am with you, sir,” Ikuus said firmly.

  “Let’s go kill Lears,” Spatz said.

  Stiger gave a nod, then looked over at Seventh Company. “Captain Ikuus, with your permission, I’d like to spend a moment with your men, my old company. They are good boys and I’ve missed them.”

  “Of course, Imperator,” Ikuus said and stepped aside. “They are yours.”

  Stiger stepped past the officers toward his old company. He felt a wave of emotion roll over him as he took in the faces of the men of the Seventh. There was a moment of hesitation and then, with a cheer, the men broke ranks and gathered around him, shouting and patting him on the back. Stiger felt not only a lump in his throat, but the prick of tears in his eyes. He had trained these men and fought with them, bled with them, suffered through terrible privation, and together they had mourned fallen comrades. When he had not had a home, they had given him one.

  He abruptly found himself hoisted up into the air, with the men shouting.

  “STIGER … STIGER … STIGER …”

  The other two companies joined in and the chant became thunderous. He caught a glimpse of the palace off in the distance and knew that within a short time, he would be there. Death was coming for Lears and Handi, along with everyone else who stood in his way.

  Chapter Twelve

  Stiger looked first up and then down the column of legionaries. Sentries had been put out to the sides and rear of the line of march. Runners had also been sent forward to keep watch. Stiger had ordered a halt to the march in the middle of the temple district a short while before so that Father Restus could round up the temple guard to help swell their numbers. The paladin was also going to see if any of his order were around. An extra paladin or two would be more than welcome.

  To either side of the wide paved street, massive marble-faced temples honoring the gods crowded in upon one another. The buildings themselves were grand, imposing structures, each with dozens of broad steps that led up to the entrances of the temples themselves. Marble columns by the dozens, each wider than the largest tree Stiger had ever seen, ran completely around the temples. These columns were engineered to hold up and support the orange–and-red-tiled roofs. Several of the more important temples were five to six stories in height, with the High Father’s being the largest and grandest of them all.

  The temples were designed to awe the average person, to make them feel small, insignificant when compared with the divine. They were also meant to celebrate the majesty of the gods. And Stiger felt himself dutifully awed by the grandeur. He was humbled by the effort and will it had taken to build them. Every time he had come here, whether it had been as a boy, teen, or young man, he had been deeply impressed and moved. This time was no different.

  Unseen from the outside, within each temple resided a grand statue to the god the structure was meant to honor. It was the public face where the civilians were permitted to gather, make their offerings or devotions, and simply pray. The temple was the home for the god’s spirit and a place for worshippers to connect directly with their divine god.

  To his right was the temple to Fortuna, one of the smaller temples in the district, though it was still incredibly large. The temple itself reminded him of Castor’s temple back in Forkham’s Valley, the one he had ordered torn down. It was eerily similar in its design and construction. That brought on uncomfortable and dark thoughts.

  Before Castor’s temple, as his men had gone to work on demolishing that monument honoring the dark god, he had almost been dominated by Rarokan. The mad wizard had nearly escaped from his prison and taken control of Stiger’s body. Without Father Thomas’s intervention and assistance, Stiger might have ended up imprisoned within the sword for eternity. Had that happened, his cause and all he had worked toward would have been lost. It was a chilling thought.

  Stiger eyed Fortuna’s temple warily. Over the years, he had cursed her more than once. She had done her best to complicate his life, frequently throwing up roadblocks and obstacles that others would think impassable or impossible to overcome. Would she continue to work against him as he went for Lears? It was certainly something to be concerned about.

  At the far end of the temple district, farther upslope and directly on the summit of the broad hill, sat the High Father’s temple, the place on Istros where the great god’s spirit could always be found. Or so the priests taught. Stiger had found it within himself. He did not have to travel to a temple to discover his god or, for that matter, pray for him. It had been years since he’d visited the great god’s temple.

  It was really a complex, a series of several buildings, with the main one being the largest, set aside specifically for worship. The temple itself dwarfed the others in the district. And topping it all, instead of clay, the roof was plated in gold tiles. Under the light of the sun, the golden tiles gleamed and flashed brilliantly.

  Stiger reflected that it must have cost a fortune. Legend told that when the legionaries from Rome had taken this region, they had seized so much plunder, a portion of it had been set aside to make the gold-plated tiles. It had been their way of thanking the great god for not only their deliverance, but success in finding a new home. He did not know if the story was true, but the empire had grown rich and powerful beyond compare. It might have simply been the citizens’ way of honoring their patron god. Or more likely, in Stiger’s mind, the church was wealthy and simply wanted everyone to know it.

  Other than his legionaries, there were few people in view, and those had drawn away from the legionaries. It seemed as if the entire city knew they were coming. All along the route to the palace, civilians had made themselves scarce. They knew fighting was soon to break out and wanted to be far from it. He would not be getting help from the mob this time. Stiger did not begrudge them that. In war, it always seemed that the civilians, those stuck in the path between two sides, suffered the most.

  Stiger himself was positioned halfway down the column of heavy infantry, with Ruga’s century his escort. Lepidus’s company was in the vanguard. Spatz’s boys came next, while Seventh Company brought up the rear.

  Therik was a few yards up, standing with Eli. The elf was pointing something out to the orc. Therik seemed fascinated by the grand temples, intently listening to Eli.

  “How long will we be here, sir?” Ruga asked, coming up.

  “As long as it takes,” Marcus said, sounding suddenly grumpy. “You should know the legion’s unofficial motto by now, Centurion.”

  Stiger glanced over at his father. Was he feeling impatient too? Stiger suspected his father was, only, like Stiger
, he was good at hiding it.

  “Hurry up and wait?” Ruga said, sourly. “Is that what you were getting at, sir?”

  “That’s it,” Marcus said.

  Stiger spared his father a sour look. Max was standing with them too. His elder brother had not said much since they’d stopped. Stiger could sense his unease.

  “Father Restus said it would take about half an hour to assemble the temple guard,” Stiger said.

  “In my experience, nothing takes a half hour, sir,” Ruga said. “It’s gonna be more like a full hour, maybe even closer to an hour and a half before we get going. It all depends upon how motivated this guard is and how quickly they fall in.”

  Stiger himself felt frustrated by the delay. He had almost given the order to continue forward and have the temple guard, when they assembled, play catch-up. But after consulting his father, he had made the decision to wait until the guard was ready to march. It would be much better to arrive at the palace with a complete and as large a force as possible. Besides, Stiger did not want someone else coming along in his absence and offering the guard a better deal in support of Lears. No, he would take them with him when he marched.

  “How many men are we talking?” Ruga asked.

  “Around four hundred,” Stiger said.

  “And all they do is guard these temples?” Ruga asked, looking around.

  “That’s correct,” Marcus said.

  “From what?” Ruga asked. “Worshippers? Must be boring duty, sir.”

  “Boring?” Marcus asked. “No, not at all. The temple district is usually a very busy place. There is a lot of money that changes hands around here. Most legitimate lenders operate under the supervision and protection of the church. Then there are those selling sacrifices, or bringing valuables and coin as offerings. The temple guard keeps thieves, pickpockets, and the riffraff away.”

  “They also serve to keep the peace,” Stiger said. “Factions of one god or another have been known to stir up trouble and fight with each other. Between hundreds, if not thousands, of fanatical worshippers, things can get heated and easily turn violent.”