The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5)
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THE TIGER’S WRATH
THE TIGER’S WRATH
MARC ALAN EDELHEIT
Book 5
Chronicles of an Imperial Legionary Officer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Tiger’s Wrath: Book 5, Chronicles of an Imperial Legionary Officer
First Edition
Copyright © 2019 by Marc Edelheit. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
I wish to thank my agent, Andrea Hurst, for her invaluable support and assistance. I would also like to thank my beta readers, who suffered through several early drafts. My betas: Jon Cockes, Nicolas Weiss, Melinda Vallem, Paul Klebaur, James Doak, David Cheever, Bruce Heaven, Erin Penny, April Faas, Rodney Gigone, Tim Adams, Paul Bersoux, Phillip Broom, David Houston, Sheldon Levy, Michael Hetts, Walker Graham, Bill Schnippert, Jan McClintock, Jonathan Parkin, Spencer Morris, Jimmy McAfee, Rusty Juban, Joel M. Rainey. I would also like to take a moment to thank my loving wife who sacrificed many an evening and weekends to allow me to work on my writing.
Editing Assistance by Hannah Streetman, Audrey Mackaman, Brandon Purcell
Cover Art by Piero Mng (Gianpiero Mangialardi)
Cover Formatting by Telemachus Press
Agented by Andrea Hurst & Associates, LLC
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Other books by Marc Alan Edelheit.
Chronicles of a Legionary Officer:
Book One: Stiger’s Tigers
Book Two: The Tiger
Book Three: The Tiger’s Fate
Book Four: The Tiger’s Time
Book Five: The Tiger’s Wrath
Book Six: The Tiger’s Imperium
Tales of the Seventh:
Part One: Stiger
Part Two: Fort Covenant
Part Three: A Dark Foretoken
Part Four: Thresh
The Karus Saga:
Book One: Lost Legio IX
Book Two: Fortress of Radiance
Book Three: The First Compact (Coming 2020)
The Way of Legend: With Quincy J. Allen
Book One: Reclaiming Honor
Book Two: Forging Destiny (Coming 2020)
Nonfiction:
Every Writer’s Dream: The Insider’s Path to An Indie Bestseller
Author’s note:
Writing The Tiger’s Wrath has been a labor of love and a joy. I have long wanted to tell this story but getting here took some time. I would like to take a moment to explain. To keep my writing fresh and original, I take a break between books in the CILO series and work on other stories. This also gives me time to better plan and prepare. I know it can be difficult waiting for the next book… However, I feel my process vital to delivering the high-quality writing you have come to expect. That said…with luck…you will not have to wait that long for the next CILO book.
You may wish to sign up to my newsletter to get the latest updates on my writing.
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Reviews keep me motivated and also help to drive sales. I make a point to read each and every one, so please continue to post them.
I hope you enjoy The Tiger’s Wrath and would like to offer a sincere thank you for your purchase and support.
Best regards,
Marc Alan Edelheit, author and your tour guide to the worlds of Tanis and Istros
Excerpt from Thelius’s Histories, The Mal’Zeelan Empire, Volume 3, Book 2.
The Mal’Zeelan Imperial Legion
Pre-Emperor Midisian Reformation
The imperial legion was a formation that numbered, when at full strength, 5,500 to 6,000 men. The legion was composed of heavy infantry recruited exclusively from the citizens of the empire. Slaves and non-citizens were prohibited from serving. The legion was divided into ten cohorts of 480 men, with First Cohort, being an overstrength unit, numbering around a thousand. A legion usually included a mix of engineers, surgeons, and various support staff. Legions were always accompanied by allied auxiliary formations, ranging from cavalry to various forms of light infantry. The imperial legion was commanded by a legate (general).
The basic unit of the legion was the century, numbering eighty men in strength. There were six centuries in a cohort. A centurion (basic officer) commanded the century. The centurion was supported by an optio (equivalent of a corporal) who handled minor administrative duties. Both had to be capable of reading and performing basic math.
Note: Very rarely were legions ever maintained at full strength. This was due primarily to the following reasons: retirement, death, disability, budget shortages (graft), and the slow stream of replacements.
The most famous legion was the Thirteenth, commanded by Legate…
Post-Emperor Midisian Reformation
Emperor Midiuses’s reforms were focused on streamlining the legions and cutting cost through the elimination of at least half of the officer corps per legion, amongst other changes.
The basic unit of the legion became the company, numbering around 200 men in strength. There were ten twenty-man files per company. A captain commanded the company. The captain was supported by a lieutenant, two sergeants, and a corporal per file.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Stiger
Chapter One
Chapter Two
ONE
The gust of mountain wind was strong, powerful and bitterly cold. Powdered snow swirled around Stiger in a cloud that stung the exposed skin of his face and neck. Clearly unhappy about being out in such conditions, Nomad jerked his head up and down. The horse sidestepped, whinnying. Until the wind and blown snow subsided, Stiger held up a hand before his face as a shield.
“Easy, boy,” Stiger said as he pulled the heavy bearskin cloak closer about himself. “There’s a warm stable waiting for you at the castle and some tasty oats too. If you’re lucky, perhaps there’ll even be an apple.”
One of Nomad’s ears gave a twitch and the horse whinnied again. Stiger nudged Nomad back into a walk. As he did, a cheer rose up on the air. Ten yards ahead, men from Third and Four
th Cohorts spilled out of their tents and lined the snow-packed road that climbed steeply on a winding path up to Grata’Kor. The mighty fortress, better known as Castle Vrell, blocked the only pass leading in and out of the Vrell Valley. It loomed high above, dwarfing the single road that passed through its gates, a silent sentinel, just one component of the elaborate defenses guarding the World Gate hidden within the valley.
The cheering grew in enthusiasm as Stiger and his party entered the camp. This was the fifth camp they’d ridden through since setting out for the castle earlier in the morning. At each one, he’d been greeted in the same manner.
Stiger raised a gloved hand and gave a wave. Then abruptly, as if his wave had been the catalyst, the men pushed forward. They pressed in close, on either side of his horse. They reached out eager hands, seeking his, a touch to his horse, or simply a pat to his leg. Their enthusiasm surprised, overwhelmed, and embarrassed him. He had never experienced anything like this, the unfiltered adoration and love freely given. He felt undeserving of their affection and guilty for permitting it.
Officers and optios shouted, ordering the men back, but it did no good. Their effort was futile and, for the most part, their calls were drowned out by the cheering. The men of the Thirteenth Legion loved their legate, some of whom, despite Stiger’s revelations to the contrary, were still convinced he was Delvaris reborn, beloved of the gods and an instrument of destiny.
Dog was several yards ahead of Stiger’s horse. The animal received pats, much neck scratching, and occasionally a treat of bacon or jerky, which he greedily wolfed down. His tail wagged madly as the men showered almost as much attention on him as they did upon Stiger.
The animal had become the legion’s unofficial mascot. At night, he was known to wander the camp, visiting fires in search of food or attention. Just as Stiger had done, the legion had come to adopt the sad-looking, shaggy dog. Stiger wondered if Dog was more popular than he was, for the men always seemed to go out of their way for the animal, sharing their meals, offering a treat or a bone that had been saved just for him. They spoiled him shamelessly.
Stiger turned in the saddle and glanced back at Eli, who had dropped back a few yards. Taha’Leeth was riding alongside Eli. Both elves had their eyes upon him. The hood of Taha’Leeth’s cloak was pulled up against the cold. What he could see of her face was an unreadable mask.
Eli’s eyes sparkled with amusement. He clearly understood Stiger’s discomfort. Stuck for five long years in the past, Stiger had missed his friend’s company. After so long an absence, it felt good to be back with him. Stiger had no closer friend than the elf, unless one counted Dog.
Therik and Stiger’s aide, Tribune Severus, came next, along with two full troops of cavalry led by Lieutenant Lan. The cavalry, riding in a column of two, trailed behind, snaking back down the road.
Eli turned his attention to the lieutenant, who had just ordered one of the troops forward to push the men back. The elf spoke briefly and shook his head in the negative. After hearing what Eli had to say, the lieutenant raised a gloved hand and countermanded his order. The troop dutifully fell back into line.
Nomad sidestepped skittishly and whinnied in near panic. Stiger returned his attention to the men gathered around him and took firmer hold of the reins.
“Easy, boy.” He patted the horse’s neck, which seemed to have a calming effect. Nomad was an exceptionally well-trained horse. He was able to keep Nomad moving forward at a slow, steady walk through the throng of soldiers. Satisfied the horse was under control, Stiger reached down, shaking proffered hands, as many as he could.
The cheering was so loud, it rivaled the noisiest of battles. They were treating him as if he were a god and not a man. He wished they saw him as he was, flawed, imperfect, not someone to be held up on a pedestal.
No matter how much he desired otherwise, he knew deep down it was never meant to be. The High Father had seen fit to make him special, to set him on the road of destiny. And the men knew it. Amongst other things, they had seen him take down a dragon, fight a minion of evil, and orchestrate the routing of an entire army. In short, they had seen him do what had seemed not only improbable, but impossible.
In their eyes, he was the fearless leader, blessed by the divine, who set the example for others to follow. He could lead them to certain defeat and so true was their faith, they’d follow, convinced he would somehow manage to beat the odds. And so, they cheered madly and greeted him as a beloved hero.
Despite being terribly discomforted, he tolerated their behavior. It served his purposes that they love him. And in moments like this, he readily embraced their affection. He would use their love, their adoration, and whatever else they gave freely, for he was the High Father’s Champion and had a job to do. And Stiger meant to do the job right, for should he succeed, he would save the empire he loved.
He did wonder, usually at night when he was alone, if that made him a terrible, perhaps even a despicable person. Whenever such thoughts bubbled up, he forced them back down. He couldn’t afford the luxury of doubt. Not now, not ever. Such thinking was self-defeating and counterproductive.
Stiger intended to use every trick, edge, and advantage he had or was given. If he failed in the task set before him, all would be lost. Darkness would sweep over this world, like so many others before it. He was not about to allow that to happen.
So, Stiger continued to shake hands and accept the well wishes of his men, legionaries of the Lost…the Thirteenth Legion. These men, those he’d brought with him from the past, were all volunteers. Every single one had come with him because they believed. They understood why they were here and just what was at stake. He had hidden nothing from them, revealing everything he knew. Well, almost everything. There were some things he just could not reveal. He had not told them about his sword and the spirit of the dangerous, evil wizard trapped within.
A small number of men from the Thirteenth and her auxiliary cohorts had elected to remain behind and make a life for themselves in the valley. Those few had become the foundation of the valley’s militia and filled out the ranks of the two valley cohorts. To them had fallen the responsibility of watching over the valley and helping to protect and guard the World Gate. The rest, after what they’d witnessed and what Stiger had revealed, had readily joined him in stasis, along with most of the camp followers.
Stiger continued shaking hands, accepting the well wishes of his men. He glanced over their heads, studying the camp. Just behind the cheering throngs were dozens of women and children who had come out to watch. Along both sides of the steep and winding road were neatly ordered tents, defensive ditches, and ramparts facing outward. Smoke from hundreds of fires climbed up into the air, where the wind caught and swirled it away.
Over the last three days, the road leading to Castle Vrell had become one large fortified army encampment, which ran from the valley’s base right up to the pass at the top. This was where not only his men were encamped, but also Thane Braddock’s army.
With every passing day, additional dwarven forces arrived, marching out of Old City. Cragg had also called forth his masses and the gnomes had come in strength. At the latest count, which he’d seen this morning before leaving Old City, the combined army of humans, dwarves, and gnomes numbered over eighty thousand. There was the very real chance that, within the month, the army would be well over one hundred thousand strong. It was an awesome force, a mighty host. And the enemy had no idea it existed. That thought alone almost made Stiger smile, as he continued to shake hands.
Working his way through the excited throng took time, but eventually the legionaries gave over to a dwarven warband’s camp. Stiger recognized the green cross-patterned colors and standard of the Rock Breakers. They were fearsome warriors, proud not only of their history, but also their clanhold, a beautiful place Stiger had once visited.
Before entering stasis to be returned to his proper time, Stiger had spent some months living and traveling amongst the dwarves, touring what they call
ed their nations, a holdover from earlier days. Each individual clan was considered its own nation, united under the leadership of the thane.
His weeks with the Rock Breakers had stood out as memorable. In a misty valley tucked deep in the mountains, they had built their capital city, Garand Gerkane. It was one of the few aboveground dwarven cities. Theo had made a point of taking him there.
As Nomad continued to work his way along the snow-packed road, Stiger let go an unhappy breath. It seemed as if he had only just left Theo and Brogan to enter Thoggle’s magical stasis. One moment he’d closed his eyes and the next opened them as if he’d taken a short nap. Over three hundred years had passed. Theo, Brogan, and everyone else he had left behind were now gone, lost to the mists of time. They were all long dead.
Stiger felt a sudden pang of loss, not only for them, but for Sarai as well. The wound of her passing hurt and some nights was still quite raw. For the most part, he’d come to terms with it. Regardless of whether he found love again, the wound would never fully heal. Within her arms, he had discovered a measure of comfort, peace, and healing. For that, he would be grateful ‘til the day he died.
It had been a long, well-traveled road to get to this point. Over the years, he’d lost many friends and companions. Theo and Brogan were just two more to add to the list. Sarai’s death was different…more significant. He had moved on, but her loss pained him.
Stiger glanced back again at the elves. Was this what it was like for them? He had always thought Eli’s longevity a blessing, but now, he wasn’t so certain. Was a prolonged life instead a curse?
Stiger steered Nomad around a rut in the packed-down snow. He knew Taha’Leeth had suffered terribly. But now he wondered…how many friends had Eli lost over the long years? How much sadness and grief had he suffered?
As he drew nearer to the dwarven camp, Stiger shifted his thoughts back to happier times with the dwarves, recalling the wonders of Garand Gerkane. Somewhat like the elves, the Rock Breakers had sculpted nature to their will and then enhanced it to their own tastes.