“Too true,” Stiger said. “Carry on, Centurion.”
“Will do, sir,” Kiel said.
Then they were by and overtaking the tail end of Fifth Cohort.
“Forty to fifty yards ahead is the Vrell road, sir,” Mectillius said. “It’s still little more than a dirt track. It seems the Cyphan did nothing to improve the road.”
Stiger gave a nod but did not say anything. He continued to plod through the snow, which occasionally made his movements awkward. Then suddenly, almost before he knew it, they were on the snow-covered Vrell road. Stiger paused and glanced around. Fifth Cohort, like a snake, bent around and onto the road. Just ahead of the Fifth was the Fourth.
The last time his boots had touched this road, he had led a fighting retreat to the castle, just a few miles away. He’d done what had needed to be done and slowed the enemy, buying time for winter to arrive. But it had all come at a terrible cost in blood. It seemed like an eternity had passed and, in a way, one had.
“I’m back,” Stiger said to himself, “and there will be no more retreating. I am here to stay.”
Mectillius stopped, looked back, and caught Stiger’s attention. He pointed in the direction of the castle, which wasn’t visible from their current position. “Up that big beast of a hill is our defensive line, sir.”
The road went straight up the hill about two hundred yards from their current position. Stiger could see teams of legionaries on the crest, toiling away. The work spread out of view, into the forest to the left and right of the road. More interesting to Stiger was the hill itself, for two larger hills seemed to spring up on either flank from the first hill’s crest.
Stiger felt like smiling. The dwarves had not let him down. They had chosen this position well and he was heartened by the sight of it. When they came for him, the enemy would be fighting on his terms.
“It’s good ground,” Stiger said, “very good ground.”
“Aye, sir,” Ruga said, “it certainly looks that way, sir.”
Stiger’s gaze moved to Fourth Cohort. The cohort stopped. Fourth stretched up the road and hill to the crest. At the head of the column, Stiger could see a small detail of centurions gathered about an officer. That officer was pointing off to the right and was gesturing with his arms, clearly in the process of directing the cohort to their position in the line and outlining what was expected.
Mectillius started forward again, leading them up the hill. Stiger found his legs quickly burning with the climb. After the long ride through the chilly and damp underground, the exercise felt more than good. Stiger was an infantry officer at heart and had always made an effort to share the miles afoot with his men, at least, whenever it was practical to do so.
The meeting of officers broke up, with several slogging their way back to their centuries. Within moments, the Fourth began to move, working their way up the hill to the crest, before snaking to the right.
Within a short time, Stiger and party reached the top of the hill. In all directions, men were hard at work, laboring away. Axe parties were busy felling trees, laying the crest of the hill bare. While those men worked, others toiled at shoveling the snow aside. Where it had been removed, teams were using pickaxes to break the frozen ground open.
Stiger paused, looking to the left and then the right. The two hills that rose up on either side were very steep, more so than they had appeared from below. He turned his gaze ahead, following the Vrell road as it traveled downslope. The road disappeared into the forested hills about a half mile away as it turned a bend. Stiger’s gaze moved to the horizon and the mountains. High up in the pass and nestled amidst the mountains, he could see the walls of Castle Vrell. From this long distance, the castle looked small and insignificant, a far cry from the stronghold it was.
Stiger tore his gaze from the castle and studied the work around him. His fortified line would eventually stretch out, up and over both hills, as more men arrived and were put to work. Holding the reins of his horse, he gave a clap of his gloved hands. The terrain was as described or, more correctly, was better than described. For lack of a better word, it was near perfect. Given enough time, perhaps just one full day, and the legion could construct a truly impregnable position.
Mectillius coughed. “This way, sir.”
Stiger followed after the centurion, to the right, up the slope of the hill, and into the trees. Mectillius guided them to a natural clearing, where a series of tents had been raised. Two more were in the process of being laid out as support poles were set. Stiger recognized the large one as his headquarters tent.
A guard, some of Mectillius’s men, stood around the legion’s Eagle, which was planted by its entrance. Normally, the Eagle went with the legate, but Stiger had permitted it to travel with First Cohort as a reminder to the men of why they were here.
The sight of the Eagle never failed to stir Stiger’s heart. It represented the honor of not only the legion, but the empire as well. He also felt some wonder that his Eagle was the fabled Thirteenth’s, the Lost.
Several horses, likely for messengers, were picketed behind the tent. A fire, with an iron pot suspended over it, had been set a few yards away from the horses. Stiger smelled tea brewing as he made his way up to headquarters.
A legionary who had been busy helping another tie a train of mules together stepped away. The mules had likely been used to haul tents and the headquarters baggage. He strode forward.
“I can take your horse, sir,” the legionary said and pointed. “I will picket him with the others.”
“Thank you.” Stiger handed over the reins, patted Nomad on the neck, and with that, the legionary led the horse off.
“Can I be of any further assistance, sir?” Mectillius asked. The guards, just a few feet away, stood at attention.
“No, I’m good. Thank you,” Stiger said as a gentle, yet cold breeze rustled the snow-covered tree limbs about them. As the breeze let up, snow drifted lazily downward in a white cloud.
“Yes, sir,” Mectillius saluted.
Stiger returned his salute, and with that, Mectillius left.
“Sir,” Ruga said, drawing his attention.
“Yes?” Stiger asked, looking back. “What is it?”
“Since we’re now your personal guard,” Ruga said, with a glance to Mectillius’s back as the other centurion walked off toward the fire, “do you want us to relieve the headquarters protection detail? Headquarters and your personal tent, I believe, should rightly be our responsibility now.”
Stiger gave that a moment’s thought.
“How many effectives do you have today?”
“Forty-two, sir,” Ruga said. “Another four are in the sick tent. Bad food, sir. We think it was undercooked meat.”
“Very well,” Stiger said. “Speak with Mectillius and relieve the headquarters guard. He can return to his cohort. You are responsible for it all.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruga said. “At all times, I will have a detail of four standing by as a personal escort, sir. I would appreciate you taking the escort wherever you go, sir, even if it’s for an after-dinner stroll about the camp.”
“That’s acceptable,” Stiger said. “I will.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ruga said and saluted.
Stiger turned away and stepped into his headquarters tent. The heavy canvas tent was marginally warmer than the outside air, primarily because it was out of the wind. A small brazier smoked lazily in the back corner. Whatever heat it gave off was not enough to warm the tent much.
Sabinus was at the far end of the tent, bent over a camp table, examining a map. There were two other junior officers with him. Several clerks were scattered around the tent, working on portable camp tables. A handful of messengers waited off to the sides.
Sabinus looked up and spotted him as Stiger made his way over.
“Good to see you, sir,” Sabinus said. “Welcome to headquarters.”
“Sabinus,” Stiger said. He recognized Centurions Aguus and Graelix from First Cohort. “G
entlemen, I trust you both are doing well.”
“Yes, sir,” Aguus said.
“Tolerable, sir,” Graelix said.
Stiger nodded to that. He’d always liked Graelix. The centurion was one tough bastard. Stiger had seen him take a serious wound and keep on fighting. He was the kind of officer you could not help but respect.
“Looks like things are off to a good start,” Stiger said, turning his attention back to Sabinus.
“They are, sir,” Sabinus affirmed. “We’re only slightly behind schedule. I’m afraid all those feet made quick work of the snow and frozen dirt underneath. It’s slowing the deployment of the legion a bit.” Sabinus had a charcoal pencil in his hand. He pointed down at the map, which he had clearly drawn himself. “Let me fill you in on what’s been done so far. This here is the road.” He tapped it with the end of his pencil. “This is our position. These circles are those two hills that the road cuts through. Our line extends about two hundred yards in either direction of the road. In a few more hours, it will push over the tops of both hills and farther out into the forest.” Sabinus looked up. “I’ve already done it, sir, but I suspect you will want to look the ground over, when you have a moment. The flanking terrain to either side of these two hills is rocky and hard to move over. Any turning movement by the enemy would be extremely difficult and take time to execute.” Sabinus paused a moment. “The men are digging in, but they’re having a difficult time of it, due to the frozen ground. The freeze goes about three to four inches down.”
“Breaking open frozen ground can be a real bitch,” Stiger said, recalling his time in the North. Winters there had proven extremely brutal, at times making it nearly impossible to dig in.
“No one said life in the legion would be easy, sir,” Aguus said.
“Speak for yourself,” Graelix said. “The recruiter told me I would get fed daily, all I could eat, and beef too, including a wine ration.”
“Let me guess,” Aguus said, “and the women would be lining up for miles around to bed you too, right?”
“Sounded like an easy life,” Graelix said with a shrug of his shoulders. “He never mentioned I would have to pay for the women.”
“You’ve always been a gullible sort,” Aguus said. “It’s a wonder you ever made centurion.”
Sabinus cleared his throat and gestured down at the map, tapping it hard with the pencil. He looked meaningfully at both centurions. “Would you mind terribly if I continued to brief our legate?”
“Sorry, sir,” Graelix said, looking from Sabinus to Stiger.
“My apologies, sir,” Aguus said.
“By nightfall,” Sabinus said, turning his gaze back to Stiger, “we should have the trench and defensive wall in place, sir. If we keep the men working through the night, we will have a defensive barricade along much of the line by morning. We should be more than ready to receive the enemy.” He moved the pencil up the Vrell road, in the direction of the castle. “I have skirmishers out to our front at around a quarter mile. Scouts are beyond the skirmish line and free ranging. The enemy’s camp lies just four miles away from our position.”
Stiger absorbed that. “Tell me of the dispositions you’ve made so far.”
“There has been no need to deviate from the plan, at least not yet. First Cohort is positioned on the ground between the two big hills, including on the road itself. I have Second and Third Cohorts on the right. Fourth is coming online now. You should have passed them on your climb up.”
“I did,” Stiger confirmed.
“Fourth will move farther to the right and anchor the far side of the hill, where it becomes rocky. Once they arrive, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh will take the left flank. I have officers standing by to guide them into position. Eighth, Ninth, and Tenth are the reserve, that includes the auxiliaries too. They will be stacked behind the line as planned should the enemy make an appearance. Until that point, they will be put to work alongside the rest of the legion.”
“Very good,” Stiger said, pleased with all that he had heard so far. Everything was proceeding better than he had expected.
Ruga entered the tent and approached. “All set, sir. The guard has been relieved, and my boys are in place.”
Stiger gave a nod and turned back to Sabinus. “Continue your report.”
“I have ordered the hilltops and slopes to our front cut back by two hundred yards,” Sabinus continued. “Once we have a decent trench and wall in place, we can begin work on a fortified camp. At the earliest, I figure that work will happen tomorrow morning sometime.”
Stiger rubbed his jaw as he considered the report.
“That’s fine,” Stiger said, after several heartbeats. Without tents and shelter, it would be an uncomfortable night for the legion, but there was no helping that. His eyes went back to the map. “We will need to accommodate the artillery along the line, particularly the bolt throwers. Salt stripped Tenth of half her strength to speed up their movement.”
“Yes, sir,” Sabinus said. “The camp prefect sent word ahead. I have the engineers surveying and marking out positions now for the bolt throwers, with an eye toward covering the downward slope. It’s another reason to cut the forest back, to give our light artillery open ground to shoot.”
Sabinus paused a moment as he sucked in a breath. He tapped the map again. “As I’m sure you saw on your way up here, I’ve also ordered corduroying the new road we’ve cut into the forest. I have three hundred men working on that project. I did not want to allocate more, as our defensive position on these hills is the priority. We need something to fight behind. Once the auxiliaries arrive, I suggest we put more men on it, but not until then. The engineers tell me, with seven hundred men, the project can be completed by noon tomorrow. I personally think they are being too optimistic. It will likely be afternoon to evening before they are done.”
Stiger thought Sabinus likely right. There was no point in worrying about it now though. Stiger agreed with Sabinus, the defensive line had priority. Later, when time permitted, he made a mental note to speak with the engineers and assign more resources to the project when they became available.
“Have you set aside space for the hospital and a depot for the supplies?”
“Yes, sir,” Sabinus said. “I have a tent raised for the surgeons. We have three more large tents that should be up within the hour. It won’t be very comfortable for any wounded when they come in, but at least they will be out of the elements to some degree.”
“Tell me of the enemy,” Stiger said. “What contact have we had with them?”
“Surprisingly, none, sir,” Sabinus said.
“None?” Stiger said. “No skirmishes, no scouts?”
“No, sir,” Aguus confirmed. “Not a peep from them, sir.”
“We haven’t even bumped into any patrols,” Sabinus added. “As far as I can tell, the enemy has not even bothered to leave their encampment today. The scouts report that there is no activity from the enemy camp, at least none that indicates they intend to leave it anytime soon. Truth be told, sir, I don’t even think they know we’re here.”
“You don’t?” Stiger asked, hardly daring to believe it true.
“We may have to announce ourselves to get their attention,” Sabinus said.
Stiger’s mind raced. Was it possible the enemy felt completely secure in their camp? Or was it the dwarven pioneers? He wondered…had the enemy commander ceded the road to the dwarves or perhaps, with the fresh snow, was simply waiting until conditions improved before venturing to send patrols out? Still, no matter the conditions, regular patrols should have been put out. It was what he would have done. Perhaps they had missed something?
“Are you certain?” Stiger asked.
“Very,” Sabinus said. “I’d say Fortuna has blessed us greatly this day. It’s looking like we will have time to make our position truly formidable, something we’d not counted on, sir.”
In his wildest imaginings, Stiger had not expected this. He had planned for the enemy
to discover the legion’s presence rather quickly.
“Are any of the elves about?” Stiger asked, thinking he needed more information.
“No, sir,” Sabinus said. “They are forward, observing the enemy camp. Speaking of which, the early reports I have received indicate that their encampment is lacking in a basic defense.”
“What?” Stiger asked, surprised at this latest bit of information. “Are you certain?”
“Certain, no,” Sabinus said, “as I’ve not seen it myself. But I am fairly confident their information is correct.”
Stiger thought about what he wanted to do.
“Right,” Stiger said. “I think I will go forward to eyeball their encampment myself and speak with some of the scouts.”
“Sir,” Ruga said, speaking up from behind.
“I’m going, Centurion,” Stiger said in a firm tone, turning to look squarely at Ruga. It was time the commander of his personal guard understood that at times the legate needed to take risks. “That’s the end of the discussion on the matter.”
“I’d not dream of arguing with you, sir,” Ruga said with schooled innocence. “All I was just going to say was that I’m coming with you, sir. If you don’t mind terribly, sir?”
“Fair enough,” Stiger said. “We’re not taking the entire century. Pick two reliable men, preferably ones that are good in the woods. The rest shall remain here on guard with your optio in command.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruga said, without hesitation.
Stiger turned back to Sabinus and raised an eyebrow, wondering if his senior centurion had any objection about the legate going forward personally.
“Very good, sir,” Sabinus said, without any hesitation. “I have a scout standing by to guide you forward, sir. Eli and Taha’Leeth are waiting for you out in the field. What with it quiet and all, I surmised you would want to see the enemy personally.”
“While I am out,” Stiger said to Sabinus, “you will retain command of the legion. At least until I return or when Salt arrives, whichever comes first. At that point, you can return to your cohort.”
The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5) Page 14
