“I think you should talk with them,” Marcus said. “Not only does it give them potentially a way out, but we might find out vital intelligence before we send our men in. Whoever their representative is might slip and give something of value away.”
That sealed it. He turned back to Spatz.
“I will speak with their representative,” Stiger said, “but out here. They come to us, not the other way around.”
“Right, sir,” Spatz said. “I will be right back.”
The captain stepped off to speak with the lieutenant, who was staring at Stiger with unmasked curiosity mixed with an intense nervousness. Or was it worry?
“Waste of time,” said a small voice.
Stiger glanced down. Sehet was standing there next to him. The gnome had come up without Stiger noticing, which was an impressive feat, especially considering that Eli had trained Stiger.
“Maybe,” Stiger said, with a glance at his father, “maybe not.”
“Time will tell truth of that,” Sehet said. “You want make effort? Stop killing, yes?”
“I do,” Stiger said and glanced in the direction of the palace. He felt a sense of unease that seemed to be growing by the moment. “I do not enjoy the idea of wasting the lives of my men or, for that matter, your gnomes.”
The gnome gave a tiny nod. He turned his gaze in the direction of the palace and was silent for a long moment. “Darkness at play. I feel it. You too?” Sehet looked back up at him expectantly. “You feel it, don’t you?”
Stiger did not immediately answer. He did indeed feel the darkness in the direction of the palace, just yards distant. It made him cold on the inside. Something clearly was not right.
“You do, yes?” the gnome pressed.
“What does he mean?” Marcus asked, brows drawing together. “What do you feel?”
Stiger gave a nod of affirmation to the gnome, then turned to his father. “As Champion, I have a connection with the High Father. It allows me to sense evil, at least those who can do priestly magic or devices that have been imbued with such magic.”
“And there is evil in there?” Marcus asked, glancing toward the palace. “In the palace?”
“Yes,” Sehet said. “Evil is about. Is why we are here. We end it.”
“That is why we are here.” Stiger’s gaze shifted to Spatz and the lieutenant. They spoke for a few moments, then the lieutenant drew himself to a position of attention and gave a crisp salute. Stiger watched the enemy lieutenant as he turned on his heel and walked up the covered walkway toward the palace and disappeared inside a door. Spatz returned to Stiger.
“I have guaranteed their representatives safety, sir,” Spatz said, “at least for the duration of the talks. There will be two of them and a small protective escort. I expect that will not prove to be an issue?”
“That’s fair enough.” Stiger’s sense of unease increased. There was almost a menace on the air. He glanced back down at Sehet for a long moment before turning back to Spatz. “Get your men ready. Send runners to the other companies. I do not expect these talks to bear fruit. As soon as they are done, we will make the assault, understand?”
“I do, sir. I will see that it is taken care of,” Spatz said and stepped away. “Lieutenant Darius, I need three runners.”
“You left us,” Therik said as he and Eli approached. Restus was with them too. “We turned around and were surprised you were gone.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Stiger said. “Eli always has his eye on me.”
“I do,” the elf admitted. “We decided to follow.”
“If I am not missing my mark, something, I believe, is afoot,” Restus said.
“What’s going on?” Therik asked. “We saw that enemy officer speaking with Spatz.”
Stiger was about to explain when two men, along with four legionaries as an escort, emerged from the same side door the lieutenant had disappeared into. Handi was one of the two men. Stiger’s sense of unease increased, as did his anger, which immediately began to boil. He now wished he had listened to the sword back in Lorium.
Dog started growling. The animal’s hair was standing on end.
Power, the sword hissed, startling Stiger. There is power here. Be on guard.
Stiger could sense it himself, feel it on the air. The sensation was so strong, he could almost taste it, as was the feeling of terrible menace. He studied the two carefully as they approached. The power was radiating not from Handi, but from the man who walked calmly at his side. There was nothing remarkable about him. His face was an ordinary one, plain even. His hair was short and his tunic was brown, cut in imperial style. He was not armed and wore civilian sandals. In a crowd, he would not have stood out. Then, Stiger saw it: a thin steel collar about the neck.
He recognized it, for he had seen similar ones, back before Vrell and during the aftermath of the battle a few miles from Lorium. The elite slave soldiers of the confederacy had worn them. Only, this man was no slave soldier, but something else. There was no doubt in Stiger’s mind he was incredibly dangerous. Stiger glanced over at Sehet and Restus. Both had gone still. Their gazes were fixed upon the man, which only confirmed Stiger’s suspicion. He knew without a doubt this was why Restus had been called to travel with him to Mal’Zeel.
The talks would most assuredly end in blood. Stiger drew Rarokan, which immediately got Therik and Eli’s attention. The orc drew his sword.
The two men and their escort stopped at that, just seven yards distant. Handi’s escort drew their own swords and raised their shields in response, moving before their charges. The tribune seemed amused and waved them back. When they did not move, he spoke harshly in a strange, guttural tone. The men responded and stepped away. It was then that Stiger noticed the legionary escort wore collars themselves.
They were not imperials, but soldiers of the confederacy, here in the heart of the empire.
How had it come to this?
The man with Handi had been eyeing them coolly. His gaze traveled from Stiger, to Restus, then Sehet, before finally moving on to Therik, Eli, and Marcus. Stiger got the sense they were being sized up. He did not like it, not one bit, for his sense of unease and menace increased with the man’s proximity. There was a darkness to the man’s soul that was utterly repugnant to Stiger.
“Swords?” Handi scoffed. “Is that how you greet an old friend? Seriously, you disappoint me, old boy.”
Stiger pulled his gaze from the man radiating power and shifted it to Handi. Everything about the tribune, from his teeth to his hair, seemed perfect, almost too much so. Stiger had never seen a man better groomed and his armor maintained to such a high degree. Speaking of the armor, it had clearly been made by a master smith and likely, along with his cloak and boots, had cost a fortune.
When Stiger had first met Handi, he had seemed a fop, a fool, a player of camp politics. It was clear he was much more than that. He was dangerous. Both men standing before Stiger were dangerous.
“I don’t know where you got the absurd idea we were friends,” Stiger said.
“Come now,” Handi said, “we’re old comrades. We should be friends.”
“Where’s Lears?” Stiger asked, deciding to get right to the point. He did not enjoy being toyed with.
“Where I left him, cowering on his throne in abject fear,” Handi said, sounding thoroughly disgusted. “He’s really afraid of you, terrified even.”
“He should be,” Stiger said. “He and I have a score to settle.”
Handi glanced over at his companion. “I think the proper word is gibbering mad. Lears is truly a disgrace. The sight of him sickens me. Though I must say, he served his purpose admirably.” Handi turned his gaze to his companion again. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ferdol?”
Ferdol, for his part, shot the tribune an unhappy look but said nothing. Stiger got the feeling Ferdol tolerated Handi because he had to, maybe even was forced to.
“What do you want?” Stiger asked, having seriously tired of the game. “Speak yo
ur mind and let us end this farce. You are not going to surrender. So stop wasting my time. Tell me what you came to say and be gone.”
“All right, if you insist,” Handi said. “I wanted you to know who it was that engineered all this ruin.” Handi held his arms out wide. “I wanted you to know who was responsible for everything, including the collapse of the empire you so hold dear.”
“Oh—oh. Let me guess,” Eli said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It wouldn’t be you, would it?”
“Funny elf,” Handi said.
“The empire is far from collapse,” Stiger said, not liking Handi’s choice of words.
“Are you so sure?” Handi asked. “You may kill us all this day, but I’ve already done what I’ve come to do. The empire is done, finished. You just don’t know it yet. But you will get to watch it happen. That, I think, is the best part, knowing what you will witness.”
Stiger was silent for several moments as he considered the tribune. Handi had been in the south with Mammot and Kromen, then with Tioclesion, and finally here, with Lears. In all three instances, he had been in a key position to do harm, to manipulate events, critical to the damaging and weakening of the empire.
“It was all your doing,” Stiger said as the full realization and horror hit him. “You were responsible for what happened to the southern legions.” It was only a guess, but even as he voiced it, the words rang true to Stiger. “And Tioclesion as well … you made all that happen. I don’t know how you did it, but you’re also responsible for Lears becoming emperor.”
Handi’s eyes flickered ever so slightly. Beyond that, the man covered his surprise well. After a moment, he smiled slightly and then gave a shrug of his shoulders.
“Sure, why not,” Handi said lightly. “I wasn’t specifically speaking about that. But I will not deny my work, not now. There is no longer any point to conceal who I am.”
“You take orders from Veers,” Stiger said, the pieces of the puzzle continuing to come together. “You always have.”
“Willingly.” Handi’s smile grew wider. “The confederacy represents the new order of things. You and this empire of yours will soon be nothing more than a memory, and a bad one at that. All that will remain of this city will be ruins when it’s all said and done. Three hundred years from now, maybe four hundred—people will wander the ruins and wonder who lived here. That is how complete your destruction shall be. In the end, Valoor will reign supreme.”
“I don’t think so,” Stiger said, his head spinning at the implications of what he was learning. The confederacy had engineered so much, actively worked toward their invasion of the empire for years, perhaps even decades. “We’ve already won here, and I’ve destroyed two of your armies. Give me some time. I assure you, I’m just getting started.”
“Believe what you will,” Handi said. “It matters little at this point. We’re winning and you are losing, have already lost, actually.” Handi glanced around them, at Spatz’s men. “I have done everything that was asked of me and then some. There is no doubt in my mind I shall be rewarded for it, given a new life. And when it comes to time itself … well, you are already too late. What’s done is done and time is the fire in which we all burn. You cannot stop it from burning, not now, not after the inferno I’ve set.” Handi paused and his smile grew. “And yes, as you guessed, I am responsible for the demise of the southern legions. It was I who bankrolled those incompetents, Kromen and Mammot. I owned those two degenerates. They were so far in debt they would have done anything to dig their way out.” Handi gave a chuckle. “And they did. Yes, I gave them the money to buy their positions, like I did so many others, and in return, they led your legions to disaster and ruin, with my help and nudging here and there, of course.”
“And with the confederacy’s money,” Stiger said, “no doubt.”
“Of course,” Handi said. “Gold and silver don’t grow on trees.”
Stiger remained silent as he thought on all the planning that must have gone into everything Handi had done. At the same time, his rage was growing.
“And I bought the praetorians too, and blackmailed when needed,” Handi admitted. “They were the ones who really owned Tioclesion. Your childhood friend was so frightened of Nouma that it really did not take much effort on the prefect’s part to encourage him to march his army south, to be the imperial hero he always wanted to be. Nouma promised Tioclesion the praetorians would keep him safe as a babe on her mother’s teat as he faced off against the confederacy.”
“You bastard,” Marcus said.
Handi gave a shrug of his shoulders.
“And,” Stiger said, “the praetorians saw to it that Tioclesion was made vulnerable to attack during the fighting that followed.”
“Correct again,” Handi said, with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a crying shame Nouma was too stupid to simply leave him on the battlefield to die. Had he done that, we would not be here now, and you would not be seeking the curule chair and crown of wreaths. Things would have gone easier for us.”
Stiger was not so sure about that, especially after he had met Karus’s specter. One way or another, he was certain he would have ended up here. But he did not voice that to Handi.
“Back in Lorium, you knew I’d never agree to your terms,” Stiger said. “The plan was to kill me regardless.”
“Correct again.” Handi clapped his hands together lightly. “Bravo. You are not as thick as the average soldier tends to be or some of your enemies would like me to think. I could not even get Nouma to do that job properly and kill you. He insisted on doing things his way. He was just too incompetent and messed it up as well in the end, which is why we are here now. Of course, if you’d had the good grace to die in Vrell, as I had originally intended, things would have been so much simpler. At that point, you were a minor headache, at best a spy sent by the senate, an inconvenience to be dealt with. But no, there I was wrong. I admit it. The gods move around you, don’t they? At least Veers and Ferdol tell me so. At the time, they did not even know what you were destined to be, could not even guess. I guess it was a lack of foresight.”
Ferdol shot Handi a warning glance.
Stiger’s rage was roiling within. It was barely under control now. This man was responsible for so much death and suffering that it was almost incalculable, inconceivable even. Two entire imperial armies had been destroyed because of him. Cities and towns had been razed, their populations put to the sword. Stiger vividly recalled the civilians of Aeda, who had been tortured and nailed to crosses along the roadside leading north. Even children had not been spared. Rarokan began to glow.
Handi gave a shake of his head. “Had they known what you were, or really what you would become, they would have sent more to Vrell.”
“You talk too much,” Ferdol said to Handi, his gaze fixed on Stiger and Rarokan. “He doesn’t need to know that, you fool.”
Handi shot Ferdol an unhappy look. “Does it really matter now?”
Ferdol said nothing.
“And Veers?” Stiger asked, almost through gritted teeth. “What of him? Is he hiding too? Like Lears, afraid to face me?”
“Oh, he’s left,” Handi said, “gone, vanished. He stopped by to check in, patted both of us on the head, and then left. He tends to do that when his business is concluded—leave, that is. And I don’t think he fears anyone or anything, except perhaps failing in his mission.”
“Enough of this,” Ferdol said. “I grow tired of your talking.”
“What?” Handi asked in sudden surprise, looking over at his companion. “This isn’t what we discussed. Wait—”
Ferdol had already raised his hands, from which fire sprang. Handi took several steps back. Sehet rushed forward before Stiger, his little hands up in the air. At the gnome’s side was Restus. Time suddenly seemed to slow, if not stop altogether. Stiger could feel the will being unleashed. It seemed to crackle on the air all around. Stiger worked desperately to bring his sword up, but it moved ever so slowly. The fire in Ferdol�
��s hands began to grow and expand toward Stiger and the rest.
There was a concussive blast. Stiger found himself on his back, looking up at the sky, blinking. His ears were ringing painfully. His vision swam for a moment and then cleared. Wondering how he’d gotten here, he rolled to his side and saw Therik was down too. As was everyone else, including Eli and Marcus. Even Spatz and his men had been knocked from their feet.
What had happened?
He looked around and spotted the man with the burning hands. He was surrounded by a sphere of pure white light. Stiger could see Sehet, his little hands still up in the air in the middle of it all. Energy flowed from the gnome to the sphere. Restus and Ferdol were the only other ones inside it.
Light and lightning flashed from each man as they battled one another, releasing incredible torrents of energy that snapped and cracked violently against the walls of the sphere of light. Stiger got the sense the protective sphere was barely managing to contain the battle raging within.
Stiger suddenly understood what had happened. Sehet had saved them. The little gnome, with his power, had knocked them away and created the sphere, raising it with the High Father’s help, and in doing so, locked the combatants within. The gnome had saved him, possibly all of them.
Groaning, Stiger picked himself up onto his hands and knees. His entire body ached something fierce. He figured Sehet’s actions had thrown him at least ten feet from where he had been originally standing. He looked up and around, searching. Handi was on his feet and staggering back toward the palace.
Stiger felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he pulled himself to his feet. Seeing Handi, his anger spiked, and with it, Rarokan fed him a surge of energy. It was then, he realized, he was still holding onto the sword.
Kill him, the sword encouraged. He must die.
Stiger wanted nothing more than that. But he stopped himself and turned around, looking.
“Spatz,” Stiger called. It came out as a gasp. He tried again, this time in a stronger tone. “Spatz.”
The Tiger’s Imperium Page 33