The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “There is darkness that way,” Sehet said, looking toward the palace. “We must find it.”

  “I can sense the darkness too,” Restus said, “something ugly and black hearted is nearby.”

  Stiger glanced in the direction of the palace. Now that the gnome had mentioned it, he too felt the darkness. It was an ominous feeling. He felt cold, and he didn’t think it was just the wintery chill of the day. There was evil about, another god’s presence, one opposed to their own.

  Stiger turned to Max. “I think it best if you remain here and out of the way when the action begins. I know you can use a weapon, but do me a favor and leave this to the professionals.” Stiger placed a hand on his older brother’s shoulder as he made to protest. “When this is all settled, I will need your help with the senate and the political battles to come. Killing Lears does not end this. The senate will need to confirm me as emperor. I can’t afford to lose you.”

  Max did not immediately answer.

  “Do I need to assign a man to watch you?” Stiger asked, hardening his tone.

  “All right,” Max said, sounding none too happy. “I will do as you ask and hang back. You have my word on this.”

  “There will be plenty of swords available soon enough,” Stiger said. “Make sure you arm yourself with one, just the same.”

  Max gave a nod.

  “Where do you want me?” Marcus asked.

  Stiger looked over at his father. He had already decided what he wanted his father to do. But he had not wanted to embarrass Ikuus further, at least publicly.

  “Take command of Ikuus and the men outside the walls,” Stiger said. “Coordinate things. Ikuus doesn’t have a lot of experience, but there may be some hope for him as an officer. Kindly make sure he does not do anything stupid.”

  “And if I catch Lears or Handi?” Marcus asked. “What do you want me to do with them? Hold them?”

  Stiger thought for a heartbeat.

  “Kill them, immediately,” he said. “Do not wait for me. Dead in this instance is dead. These are two enemies who cannot be left standing.”

  “It is good that you understand the harsh world in which we live.” Marcus started to turn away, then looked back. His gaze was intense. “I will see you when this is all over.”

  “You too.” Stiger oddly felt a lump in his throat. With that, Marcus stepped off toward Ikuus, who was moving with his men over the snowbank to the left. Hollux, with a group of fifty men, was already farther out ahead of them.

  Seventh Company and part of Spatz’s boys were already in motion too, spreading out to the right and left of the gate, tramping through the snow as they moved to surround the palace district.

  Tenth Company was deploying from a marching column of four into a city fighting formation of six ranks. The rest of Spatz’s company, just behind them, was doing the same. The gnomes were falling into the same formation. Ruga was organizing his century behind the three companies.

  More than six hundred men and gnomes were about to storm their way into the palace district. If they got through the chokepoint of the gate, and there was no ambush, it would likely mean fighting in the palace itself.

  Clearing a large and determined force from confined spaces, even a building as large as the palace, would be a difficult venture. A room-to-room struggle was not something Stiger wanted, for it was grim, ugly work and extremely dangerous. It might even see his qualitative advantage negated.

  Four men approached from Ruga’s company. They snapped to attention as one of their number stepped forward. “Centurion Ruga sent us. We’re your personal escort, sir.”

  “Very well.” Stiger gave them a nod, then glanced at Eli, Therik, Restus, and Sehet, who were still standing around him. Dog was sitting nearby, watching. As he turned his eyes upon the animal, Dog’s tail gave an encouraging wag.

  Stiger glanced toward the gate and started off. It was time. “Let’s go.”

  He moved up along the line of grim-faced men and gnomes, who were preparing for the assault, and joined Lepidus. The captain of Tenth Company was watching a team of four scouts move cautiously forward toward the gate. The men had their swords drawn and held their shields before them. Their job was a dangerous one, for if the enemy had men lying in wait behind the walls and around the gate, they would be most at risk.

  “High Father,” Stiger said, bowing his head, “give us the strength to see this through to the end. Spare as many of our men as possible and see us victorious upon the field of battle.” Stiger finished by silently commending his spirit into the High Father’s loving embrace.

  “Amen,” Lepidus said.

  “Well spoken,” Restus said.

  “And so,” Therik said eagerly, rubbing his hands together, “it finally begins.”

  Lepidus looked over at the orc, his brows knitting together, before returning his attention to his scouts, who had reached the gate ten yards ahead. Two were on each side of the gate. One peeked around the corner, his head swiveling to the right and then left. He looked back at Lepidus and, holding his sword, gave a thumbs-up, before the four of them moved through the gate and into the grounds beyond.

  “Sir.” Lepidus looked over. “Do I have your permission to bring my company through the gate?”

  “You do,” Stiger said, his gaze going to the stables. He felt sure there was a surprise waiting for them there.

  “Tenth Company,” Lepidus said, in a voice not too terribly loud. It was just enough for his men to hear as he drew his own sword. “Draw swords.” The swords hissed out. “At the double—march.”

  Armor jingling and chinking, with Lepidus at their head and setting the pace, the company stepped off in a good jog toward the gate. A moment later, Spatz gave the same order for his reduced company. Stiger made to jog with them, but Therik reached out a restraining hand, gripping his arm.

  “I think it wise,” Therik said, “to let them go first. Don’t you? There is no reason for the emperor to be near the tip of the spear. Not if an ambush is waiting for us.”

  Stiger felt a stab of frustration at not going with the men, shirking from sharing their danger and risk.

  “You’ve already proven yourself brave and fearless.” Therik still gripped his arm. Though it wasn’t tight, the orc had a firm hold. “No need to keep doing that. Let your people do their job. Get involved only when it’s absolutely needed. You are their leader.”

  Stiger almost jerked his arm free, then stopped himself.

  “You are correct,” Stiger said. “My job is to command. We will go in after Spatz’s company, and before the gnomes. Is that good?”

  Therik released him and gave a satisfied nod.

  Eli nocked an arrow as the last of the Tenth, still in a tight block-like formation, jogged by them. Spatz’s company was close on their heels. Stiger watched as the first of Lepidus’s men made the gate and then began passing through.

  Stiger started moving with the tail end of Spatz’s company, jogging after them. Eli, Therik, Restus, and Sehet kept up with him. The gnome had to run in a near sprint. Dog and the escort moved just behind them.

  “Company, halt,” Lepidus shouted abruptly, and his formation ground to a stop. The tail end of his company had not made it completely through the gate. Though he could not see it, beyond the wall and gate, Stiger immediately knew there was trouble.

  “Right face,” Lepidus shouted at his men. “Wheel left, two steps. Very good. Halt. Pull yourselves together, boys. Dress the line. Shields up, shields up, boys.”

  The shields came up, locking together with a solid-sounding thunk. There was a tremendous shout that sounded from beyond Lepidus’s company and just out of view. A bolt of concern shot through Stiger, for he could not see what was happening. But it was clear there had indeed been an enemy force concealed in the stables.

  “Stand ready, boys, brace yourselves, brace yourselves, now,” Lepidus hollered again as he positioned himself behind the left portion of his formation, which had gotten through the gate. “
Remember, we are the legion.” The sound of charging feet could be heard. “What are we, boys?”

  “Legion!” the men of the Tenth shouted.

  A heartbeat later, a mass of men appeared in view and began slamming into the Tenth’s shield wall. The clash of contact was loud, almost earsplitting, as was the shouting from the enemy. From what Stiger could see, they appeared to be militia, and there were a lot of them. The first rank of the Tenth was pushed back in some places a step, in others two or more. Under the pressure of the attack, Lepidus’s line bent, before the men were able to hold firm.

  Most of Tenth Company had made it through the gate to face the enemy. But there was no room for Spatz’s boys to get by them. Spatz and his men, like Stiger, had become spectators watching the struggle play out before them.

  “Spatz!” Stiger shouted.

  The captain looked over at him.

  Stiger pointed to their left. “Move your men to the left of the gate and get them over the wall and into action.”

  “Yes, sir,” Spatz shouted and, waving his sword in the air so his men could see, turned to face them. “This way, boys, this way. Follow me.” He led them over the snowbank and off the street.

  “Ruga.” Stiger turned to look back at the centurion and pointed to the right. “Get your men to the right. Send them over the wall. See if you can flank the bastards.”

  “Aye, sir,” Ruga shouted back and, with a curt order, led his men off to the right.

  Stiger looked around for the gnomes and moved back to them.

  “Wast,” Stiger said, stepping over to the gnome, who was watching the fight ahead with great interest. Wast pulled his gaze away from the action. Stiger pointed toward the gate. “There is a small gap on the left side of the Tenth, between their last rank and the gate itself. It isn’t large enough to move men through, but a gnome might just make it. Can you feed your gnomes in there and get them formed up inside palace grounds, before going into action?”

  “Yes, yes,” the gnome said with sudden excitement. “Yes, yes. I do, I do. We do—now.”

  Wast turned to his gnomes and gave a series of orders in his own language. Within heartbeats, Sixth Company was in motion, moving forward.

  Stiger watched them. The gnomes began moving around behind the human legionaries, going single file through the small gap. The legionaries there glanced around as the gnomes moved by in a steady stream.

  Satisfied, Stiger started after Spatz’s company, who were at the wall and already in the process of going over it. Several men stood on the top and held out hands to help others up and over. Spatz was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was already on the other side.

  Stiger lined up with the rest and waited patiently. The fighting at the gate seemed intense. He was impatient to get over, to get a better picture of what was going on inside the grounds. He forced himself to remain calm and wait with a patient air. He had to set the example for others to follow. He also had to show confidence in his own officers to do their jobs and fight their own companies. Besides, it was more important that the bulk of Spatz’s men made it over the wall first and got into the action.

  Then, finally, it was his turn. He gripped the hand that was offered and scrambled up and onto the top of the wall. To his side, Therik and Eli did the same. At the top, the orc, like Stiger, hesitated, looking over the field of battle for a long moment to get a sense for what was going on.

  “Help up.”

  Therik turned, reached down, and offered a hand to Sehet, who took it. With ease, the orc hauled the gnome up and then literally dropped him over the other side to the snow below before jumping down himself. Stiger jumped down too, his boots sinking into the fresh snow.

  “Form up!” Spatz was shouting a few yards from them. “Form up. Two ranks, now. Hurry, boys. Come on. Get a move on. We need to get our act together before we can join the fun.”

  Stiger looked around, studying the action. He could see Tenth Company engaged with light infantry, militia, just off to the right, by the gate. The large doors of the stables had been thrown wide open. The militia were still coming out. Watching for a long moment, he estimated there were nearly four hundred of them. It was more than he had expected.

  To his left was open space, snow-covered gardens. Farther up the street that led from the gate, toward the praetorian barracks, Stiger took in a sight that made his heart freeze. Pouring out of the barracks were auxiliaries. They were forming up into what looked like two full cohorts. Farther to the left was the palace. Another cohort was in the process of pulling themselves together there before starting forward.

  “We’re outnumbered,” Therik said as he drew his sword. “And badly.”

  Stiger could not disagree. Worse, he had sent a good chunk of his combat power away to create a net around the district. He now understood that decision might have been a mistake. The enemy was not looking to run, but to fight.

  “What’s done is done,” he said to himself. For better or worse, he had to live with his choices. Such was the heavy burden of command. Decide wrong and there was always a price to pay. That said, Stiger was not ready to give up. This was battle. Stiger had faced worst odds and come out on top.

  Eli nocked his bow, aimed toward the praetorian barracks, and loosed. It was a long shot, but his arrow flew true and struck an auxiliary officer in the back, punching right through the armor. The man had been exhorting his men to fall into formation. The force of the missile strike drove him forward and into the first rank of men. The auxiliaries stepped aside in horror as the officer fell to his knees amongst them before collapsing face first into the snow. He did not stir.

  “Nice shot,” Therik said.

  “Keep it up,” Stiger said.

  Without replying, Eli took several steps forward, went down to a knee in the snow, and loosed another arrow in the same direction.

  Stiger turned to Spatz, who was still in the process of organizing his half company, working to get them into a coherent line.

  “Captain,” Stiger shouted over the noise of the fight just yards away.

  “Sir,” Spatz said, looking over.

  “Once you are formed and your ranks ordered,” Stiger hollered, pointing toward the two auxiliary cohorts, “move your men forward to meet those cohorts by the barracks. I need you to keep them from flanking the Tenth. Got that?”

  “Sir,” Spatz replied, “I don’t have enough men to hold them for long.”

  “I know,” Stiger replied. “I will get the gnomes to help. You only need to hold long enough for Lepidus to break those militia before him. Then, he too will come to your aid. Ruga’s also moving around the side to the right.”

  Spatz glanced toward the gnomes. Stiger could see the doubt in the captain’s expression. “They better be good, or we’re screwed.”

  “They are,” Stiger said. “Trust me on that.”

  “You’re still an asshole,” Spatz said, then added with a grin, “sir.”

  “You got that right,” Stiger said, and then turned away. He moved toward the gnomes, who were forming up behind the Tenth. Attempting to be heard over the noise of the fight, Wast was screaming at his little legionaries, clearly encouraging them to fall in quicker.

  The gnomes were still emerging through the gate in the gap behind the Tenth. Stiger understood from personal experience, when it came to reforming and maneuvering large formations, things did not happen immediately or, for that matter, quickly. Anything done right generally took time. Only there was not much time.

  “Wast,” Stiger said, and when he had the gnome’s attention, he pointed at the auxiliaries getting themselves organized outside the barracks. “Spatz and his boys are moving to block those bastards over there and keep them off the Tenth’s back. Needless to say, he and his boys will shortly be outnumbered. Once the Sixth is formed up, move your company to assist Spatz.”

  The gnome studied the auxiliaries for a long moment with black eyes that glittered darkly in reflected sunlight. He looked back up at Stiger
. There was an eager look in his gaze, a near hunger, one Stiger found chilling.

  “Kill, yes?” the gnome asked. “We kill?”

  “Tear them apart,” Stiger said.

  “We kill them all,” the gnome hissed in a whisper to himself and then turned away, shouting with more intensity at his gnomes in his own language.

  Stiger took several steps back to give the gnomes room. Therik, Sehet, and Restus joined him. Dog sat down at his side in the snow. The animal’s attention was on the fighting.

  “Those humans are in trouble,” Therik said.

  Stiger glanced back at the orc and could only agree. He turned his gaze to the Tenth and the fighting raging just feet away. Lepidus had finally managed to get most of his entire company through the gate by moving the last two ranks out of the way. He was repositioning them to the side, his left extending his line up the street a few yards to keep the militia from swarming around his flank. His front rank seemed to be holding against the massed press of the enemy. Satisfied with what he saw, Stiger glanced toward the auxiliaries.

  The enemy had clearly used their militia, their least trained men, as shock troops to disrupt the legionaries moving into the district. Stiger understood what they were trying to do. The auxiliaries would be the second phase of the ambush. The militia were acting as the anvil, and the auxiliaries, the better trained and disciplined soldiers, were the hammer. They were intending to slam into the legionaries’ flank while they were pinned by the militia at the gate, the chokepoint. It was a clever strategy and, facing another commander, might have worked.

  Only Stiger had gotten more of his combat power over and around the wall than the enemy had anticipated, and in moments, Spatz would be moving into a blocking position to keep the hammer from falling. Though the palace gardens were large and expansive, the actual space where most of the fighting would take place would be a rather small, almost confined area. He could see it in his head, as if it had already happened.