The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “They do a good job of keeping the order and peace here.” Marcus tapped his foot on the ground. “Over the years, full-on battles have been fought on these blood-soaked streets. It’s the temple guard who work to keep a lid on it all.”

  “Can they fight?” Ruga asked. “I mean not against maddened worshippers, but stand in the line, so to speak?”

  “They can hold a sword and shield,” Marcus said, “face off an irate mob or stop a riot. However, I don’t think they were ever intended to truly fight as a legionary does.”

  “I see,” Ruga said. There was a lot of meaning conveyed in those two words, most of which was disappointment.

  “That doesn’t mean they can’t be useful in helping to seal off the palace,” Stiger said. “We cannot afford having Lears or Handi escaping. When we get there, they will help make certain that does not happen.”

  “If you say so, sir,” Ruga said, clearly not wholly convinced on the temple guard’s virtues.

  Stiger felt himself scowl. It was possible Lears would flee the palace. That said, Stiger did not believe he would. To do so might fatally weaken his position and strengthen Stiger’s hand. No, Lears had more men. He would stay and wait. The man knew he had additional reinforcement coming and it was only a matter of time until they arrived. Mechlehnus was sending several companies. Lears would remain and do everything he could to hold out until help arrived. That meant Stiger had to finish things before that relief arrived.

  “Have the men stand at ease,” Stiger said, feeling a stab of irritation. He had already made his decision and now had to live with it. There was no point in rehashing things further, agonizing over the wait to get moving again.

  “Yes, sir.” Ruga saluted and moved off.

  “You said he’s a good man?” Marcus asked of Ruga.

  “I did,” Stiger said, “but he can also be a pain in my ass.”

  “Some of the best officers I’ve known have been,” Marcus said. “A pain in the ass is not a bad thing, as long as he does his job well.”

  “I encourage my officers to speak their mind,” Stiger said. “Ruga is a good example of that.”

  “It’s a good practice,” Marcus said. “The last thing any leader wants or needs are men who will only tell you what you want to hear. You need to guard against that.”

  A whining drew their attention off to the left. Dog was nosing around an old iron gate that stood open. It was half rusted and in need of being replaced. Beyond the gate and sandwiched between two temples was what looked like some type of a garden surrounded by a chest-high wrought iron fence. The fence also was badly rusted. On the inside were thick green shrubs. Beyond that, Stiger could see little of the garden, for the shrubs shielded most of everything from view.

  A square brick building, only a single story in height, stood farther back in the garden, about fifty yards away. It looked old. Stiger had not really noticed the building. In fact, he could not ever recall seeing it before. Unlike the other grand temples, this one was plain, to the point of being ugly. The building and gardens seemed out of place, and he assumed he’d just overlooked it as a result. Was it a maintenance building? Or did it have some other purpose?

  Dog looked back at him, and their eyes met. The animal gave a clipped bark and looked back at the gate. Oddly, there was something about the gardens that seemed to speak to Stiger, almost beckoning him forward. There was a power exerting its influence upon him. In the past, he would not have understood what was happening or that he was being influenced. Now, things were different. After the training he’d received from Menos, he recognized it for what it was: a use of will, and a powerful one too.

  “That, my son”—Marcus stepped closer to Stiger and lowed his voice slightly—“is the temple to the first emperor. It was there that I had my vision.”

  Stiger glanced over at his father. Their eyes met.

  “Do you feel it?” Marcus asked, with an eager note. “Do you feel the pull? We are expected, welcomed even.”

  Is this your doing? Stiger asked of Rarokan.

  Even if it was, the mad wizard replied, would you believe me if I told you no?

  Far from satisfied with the answer, Stiger turned his gaze back toward the garden and temple. Dog had sat down and was facing him. The animal seemed to be telling him to hurry, to get moving. At the same time, he felt an internal nudge. It came from the power that resided within, the High Father. Stiger’s god wanted him to go in there, for something was waiting for him.

  This is not me, Rarokan said.

  He glanced around at the men that had been allowed to relax. Some were rooting around in haversacks. Others had sat down. A few even had pulled out dice and had gotten a game going. Most appeared bored.

  His gaze shifted to the temples themselves. Most of the gods were honored here. Even Valoor and Castor. There were no priests to those gods, but temples honoring the deities had been built just the same.

  Stiger felt no sense or pull from the other temples, even the High Father’s own, at the far end of the street. He turned back to the first emperor’s temple. His father was right. They were expected. That thought concerned him. Who was anticipating their arrival? Stiger sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly.

  “Shall we go?” Stiger asked his father, looking over.

  “Go where?” Max asked, looking around. “What are you both talking about?”

  “You don’t see it?” Marcus asked, surprised, and pointed.

  “The alleyway between temples?” Max asked. “What about it?”

  Stiger and his father shared a look.

  “Ruga,” Stiger called, “join me for a moment, would you?”

  The centurion came back to them.

  “How can I help you, sir?” Ruga asked.

  “Do you see Dog?” Stiger asked, lowering his voice and stepping closer to the centurion.

  “Yes, sir.” The centurion nodded toward the animal. “I do.”

  “What do you see beyond him?”

  “An alley between the temples, sir.” Ruga’s brows drew together. He looked at Stiger with a confused expression. “There’s nothing else there, sir.”

  “You are wrong,” Stiger said, recalling how the dwarves had concealed the entrance to Old City. “There’s something hidden in plain sight, likely through magical means.”

  “Magic?” Ruga said, looking in Dog’s direction. “What is it? What’s there?”

  “A temple to the first emperor,” Stiger said.

  “Father, you’ve mentioned this,” Max said, “but I’ve never heard of such a place, nor seen it. I even went looking for it. After all these years, I did not quite believe it real. There is no record of such a temple being constructed anywhere in the city. I always believed it was part of the vision you received. There was no other explanation until now.”

  Marcus turned his gaze upon his eldest son, and there was sadness in his look. “Over the long years, I have visited this place from time to time, my son. I find it calming of the mind and a restorative to my faith, reinforcing the hard decisions I’ve made for our family. It is a shame you did not have the faith to believe me.”

  “I am sorry I doubted you, Father,” Max said. “Truly.”

  “I am too.”

  “Karus has his own temple?” Ruga asked, sounding intrigued. “This is my first time in the capital, sir.”

  “It seems he does,” Stiger said. “My father and I are going in.”

  “Are you sure, sir?” Ruga asked. “I don’t like the idea of you entering a place no one else can see, sir. If you will give me a moment, I will organize an escort for you. I think I’d also like to see such a temple myself.”

  “No,” Stiger said, for he felt a strong sense of wrongness with the suggestion. “My father and I are going alone. We’re expected.”

  “You’re expected?” Ruga’s gaze slipped back toward Dog. His face hardened before looking back at Stiger. “I don’t like it, sir, not one bit. Would you reconsider? I could send a couple of m
en with you as an escort instead of a full detail.”

  “I don’t like this either,” Max said.

  “It will be all right,” Stiger said. “We will be back shortly.” Stiger paused a moment. “Ruga, I don’t fully understand the power of that place. No one is to follow us. That is an order. It could be dangerous for anyone who tries. No matter how long we take, do not come for us. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ruga said. “I don’t like it much, but I understand.”

  “Shall we go find out what’s waiting?” Stiger asked his father. “I figure we don’t have much time before Restus gets the temple guard rousted.”

  Marcus gave a curt nod, and with that, they both started off, with Ruga and Max trailing just behind.

  “Remember,” Stiger said, “no one is to follow us in.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ruga said. “I will make sure of that.”

  Stiger took another couple steps up to the open gate and stopped next to Dog. He looked down at the animal and hesitated. The draw to move forward was becoming nearly impossible to resist. Dog stood and nudged the back of Stiger’s leg.

  “All right, boy, I am going.” Stiger stepped through the gate. He felt a funny tingling sensation, as if he were passing through some sort of an energy barrier. It pushed against him slightly, then gave way and he was through. He slowed to a stop just inside as the tingling passed.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Marcus asked, stepping around him. “Just beautiful. I come here whenever I can. This is where I find peace and solace.”

  Blinking in surprise, Stiger could only nod. It was as if they had stepped into a warm and well-insulated room. But it wasn’t a room. They were still outdoors. In fact, it seemed like a spring day had dawned and the garden around them was in full bloom, bursting with life. Birds flitted about and butterflies fluttered through the sunlight. Even the air was fresh. There was no city stink.

  The garden was well manicured and cared for. Beyond the shrubs that ran along the inside of the iron fence was thick forest. The other temples were no longer in view.

  Had he and his father been transported to some other place? Stiger considered that a distinct possibility. Ogg had once magically transported him from a battlefield to the World Gate, so he knew it was possible.

  And yet, deep within, he understood he had not been transported anywhere. They were still in the temple district. How he knew this, he wasn’t quite sure, but he could feel it was so. There was some sort of magical bubble that kept the garden warm and in a perpetual state of spring. A grass path led through the middle of the garden and up to the temple itself, which was rather plain and stood in stark contrast to the beauty that surrounded it. The path wound its way around a fountain just before the temple.

  Dog nosed his way past Stiger and into the garden. His tail was wagging as he sniffed intently at the grass, as if on the hunt for prey.

  In the center of the fountain stood a life-sized statue of a man with a sheathed sword and his hands on his hips. He was gazing outward, as if looking upon something with satisfaction, perhaps a life’s work well done. The statue wore legionary armor, of a type that had not been worn in centuries. It had been intricately and expertly carved and was so detailed the statue looked almost lifelike. Stiger suspected he was gazing upon a likeness of Karus, and the sword was Rarokan.

  You are correct, the sword hissed in his mind. That is Karus.

  Stiger abruptly froze, not at the sword’s words. There was a hooded, white-robed figure standing on the bottom step that led up into the temple. It was small, barely the size of a four-year-old child. Stiger knew without a doubt it was not human. The small creature slowly pulled the hood of the robe back and Stiger sucked in a breath. In his wildest imaginings, he had not expected this. How could he have? He looked around. Where there was one, there were always more. He did not see any others about.

  “What kind of a creature is that?” Marcus asked in a hushed voice.

  “A gnome,” Stiger said unhappily.

  “What is a gnome?”

  “A mean-tempered bastard that you never want to take your eyes off of,” Stiger said as he started forward. It was time to find out what was going on, what game the gnome was playing. Marcus followed. Dog padded up next to Stiger and sat down. The gnome gave Dog a respectful nod before turning its attention squarely on Stiger.

  “Welcome, Champion,” the gnome said in a high-pitched and squeaky voice. Like the rest of its race, the creature spoke incredibly quickly. “We pleased you come. We pleased you accepted our welcome invite.”

  Stiger studied the gnome for a long moment. A large iron key hung on a chain about his neck. The little creature’s robe was pure white, as the freshest of snows. A silver lightning bolt ran down the side of the robe, one of the High Father’s symbols. That, Stiger found quite a surprise.

  “You are a priest?” Stiger surmised.

  The gnome gave a grave nod and folded its hands before its chest. The fingers seemed in constant motion and the creature fidgeted, as if incredibly anxious. Stiger knew that was just the nature of the race. They seemed barely able to contain the energy within.

  “A priest of the High Father.” Now that he had said it, he could sense and feel the will radiating from the gnome. He found it not only unexpected, but unsettling.

  “I am so blessed,” the gnome confirmed. “So blessed. It is great honor.”

  “I did not know your kind followed the High Father,” Stiger said. “I don’t even know which deity your people mostly keep.” Gnomes, for the most, part were a mystery to him.

  “Saclaw, Castor, Thulla, Neptune, Seetah—” the priest said, its pupil-less and unblinking gaze fixated on Stiger. “Many gods. There is not just one.”

  “And now the High Father,” Stiger said.

  “Some follow,” the gnome said, “some don’t. High Father gives each free will of choice.”

  “And this is the temple to the first emperor?” Stiger asked, looking up at the brick building. “Do I have that right?”

  “Yes, yes,” the gnome said, seeming to suddenly become excited. “His shade resides here, waits in peaceful place. He remained behind, waits for you—has always waited.”

  “Me?” Stiger said, studying the temple. The wooden door was closed. There was a lock on the door. “Who waits? Karus?”

  “You follow.” The gnome turned and made its way quickly up the steps. It stopped at the door and pulled the key from around its neck. It looked back on Stiger, excitement in its manner, before inserting it into the lock and turning the key. There was the sound of gears turning. The door, as if of its own will, swung inward, revealing a brightly lit interior. The gnome turned back again, this time looking expectantly at Stiger.

  “You come,” the gnome beckoned. “He waits.”

  “I never went inside.” Marcus indicated the gnome. “The door has always been locked. And he wasn’t here the last time. The garden is as far as I have ever gotten.”

  “Well, we’ve been invited. Might as well go find out who wants to see us.” Stiger started up the steps. At the top, he stopped before the gnome. He sensed no danger or malice from the creature. The entire garden and palace seemed to exude a peaceful sensation.

  “You go,” the gnome said. “Go, go.”

  Stiger moved inside, his father a step behind. Dog padded in after them and sat down on his haunches by Stiger’s side. The interior of the brick building was plain and nothing at all like any other temple he had ever seen. There was no statue inside for people to worship. The floor was red brick, the walls plastered over in white. There was not a spot of dust anywhere. It was all very plain, utilitarian. A shelf ran along all four walls about waist-high. Hundreds of fat candles had been placed on the shelf. These provided the light to see by. There were no other rooms or doors that could be seen. The temple consisted solely of one large room.

  A stone altar lay in the exact center. Stiger moved toward it. Upon its surface lay a set of armor. The armor was old, ancient, and
archaic-looking, the original lorica segmentata, what was seen now only in carvings and mosaics. It was the same kind the statue in the fountain had been wearing. The armor had a used look to it. He could see scrapes and dents. At the same time, someone had lovingly looked after it. The armor had been polished to a high sheen and reflected the candlelight.

  “I think this might have been Karus’s armor,” Marcus said, moving several steps closer, almost up to the altar itself. He seemed thoroughly awed.

  “It might very well be,” Stiger said, then looked around for the priest to ask. The gnome was nowhere to be seen. “He’s gone.”

  “Maybe he went back outside,” Marcus suggested.

  Few visit this place, a voice hissed.

  Stiger spun around and, with his father, took a step back. A glowing figure, a specter of light, stood before them. The image was that of a man, an officer, wearing the trappings of a camp prefect. The specter wavered before their eyes, as if he were made of a glowing fog. Stiger realized he could see right through the specter. The man looked exactly like the statue. Stiger had no doubt on the specter’s identity. He felt a moment of pure shock wash over him, for he was standing in the first emperor’s presence, the man who had brought the Ninth Legion from Rome to Mal’Zeel and founded the empire.

  Dog stood, shook himself, and moved forward, around the altar. The specter gazed down upon Dog and smiled. He held forth a hand. The big animal’s tail began wagging as he leaned forward and sniffed at the glowing hand.

  These days, few visit with me, the specter said sadly, other than the gnomes.

  “Only my father and I could see the temple, and Dog,” Stiger said. “I would assume that’s why you don’t get many visitors.”

  That was intended. The spirit moved toward them, walking through the altar. As was your coming.

  “You know who I am?” Stiger asked.

  I know what you represent. The spirit stopped just before them. An end to what was begun long ago—and a new beginning. You are all that I, and so many others, worked toward.