Hux’s cavalry had blinded the enemy to the thane’s presence. The enemy had assumed they were only facing a small cavalry raid, designed to distract from the real fighting to the north. They had marched to chase the raiders off and reopen the King’s Highway, restoring their communications with the Cyphan. By the time they figured out their mistake, it was too late. The dwarves made short work of the garrison, taking over five hundred prisoners. They’d slaughtered the rest.
Braddock had not included his casualties in the report. Stiger supposed they had been light, for what he’d seen of the rebels, they were poor soldiers. He felt a bubble of frustration. Despite seizing and questioning prisoners, he and Braddock still only had limited information as to what was happening to the north and Tenya’Far had not been able to supply much more information. Eli’s father’s knowledge of events was weeks old.
On Braddock’s orders, Hux had sent scouts riding north to gather additional intelligence. Those that had returned hadn’t found out much more than wild rumors. Having fallen in battle, the emperor was dead. That and the empire had collapsed. The list went on, each rumor and tale more fantastical than the last.
Stiger did not believe any of it, would not and could not…for the empire was vast. He could not conceive in so short a time the Cyphan could have crushed the empire. It was impossible. And if the emperor fell in battle, another would surely rise.
In the past, the empire had taken hard hits, seen emperors slain in battle, and suffered terrible defeats that would have been mortal blows to other nations…only Stiger’s people never gave up. They kept on fighting, and if the empire was pushed out of an area…it might take months, years, or decades, but the legions always returned, pushing back when they came.
However, one thing they did know for certain. Hux had discovered the battle site where the confederacy had defeated General Kromen’s Southern legions. After stripping them of armor and equipment and looting what they could, the enemy had left the dead where they had fallen.
They’d not even bothered to bury them, instead leaving a feast for the carrion eaters. The men of the Southern legions had deserved better. It was a message to the imperials, likely designed to instill fear. The thought of what the Cyphan had done instead irritated Stiger immensely, stoking his wrath.
Hux had also discovered that Aeda had been thoroughly sacked. The population had been put to the sword. Beyond that, the best Stiger and Braddock could figure, the fighting had moved north to the empire’s border, perhaps even beyond.
There seemed to be no serious enemy presence within a fifty-mile radius, which Stiger thought was an encouraging sign. It meant they would be able to begin marching northward without immediate concern.
Stiger felt sour. The senate had annexed the occupied lands to the south, but they had never gotten around to conferring citizenship on the people residing there. Had they done so, they might have stopped the rebellion long before it could have begun. Instead, the senate had settled for simply exploiting the occupied lands for all they were worth, making life miserable for those who lived there. By doing so, they’d inadvertently left the door open for the Cyphan.
Stiger slapped his thigh and expelled an unhappy breath. There was so much he did not know about what was going on to the north.
“Where is Menos?”
Eli looked over at him.
“You are concerned about the dragon?” Eli asked.
“I am,” Stiger said. “That and what’s waiting for us to the north. There is so much I am ignorant of. Menos should have returned by now and reported what he learned.”
“He’s a dragon,” Eli said.
“What does that mean?” Stiger asked.
“Maybe he saw a herd of cattle and stopped for a snack?” Eli said. “Who knows with such ancient creatures? They do their own thing, have their own agendas. I imagine he will turn up soon, when he’s ready.”
Stiger knew Eli had meant to make light of the situation and to ease his mind a little, but it had not helped. Menos was a friend too, and Stiger was becoming worried. What could have delayed a noctalum?
“Something must have happened to him.” Stiger felt the keen bite of frustration. He turned around and looked beyond Ruga and his men, at the remains of the small camp a few dozen yards off the road.
Eli followed his gaze.
“It all started here,” Stiger said as his eyes took in the camp the Eighty-Fifth had built, before starting out for Vrell. Someone had gone to the trouble of tearing down the outer wall and filling in the trench. Why they bothered, Stiger had no idea. The interior of the camp was slightly overgrown. Weeds had popped up and the grass had grown tall. The old, rundown farmhouse had also been pulled down. Now it was no more than a heap of debris.
“No, it most certainly did not begin here,” Eli said. “Yes, we started out for Vrell from here, but this all began with the gods. Without them and the Last War, we would not be here today, nor doing what we are doing.”
“I suppose so.” Stiger felt uncomfortable, for he detected a note of censure in his friend’s tone. Eli was blaming the gods for all that had and would happen. And in a manner of speaking, he was right.
Stiger’s gaze returned to the ruined campsite. He considered going in and poking around. Then, he disregarded the idea. It was time to stop looking back to the past. No matter how difficult, he had set his sight on the path ahead. He would look back no more. He had a job to do and he meant to do it.
“Ruga,” Stiger said, switching back to Common, “get your men on their feet. We’re leaving.”
“Will you be riding, sir?” the centurion asked and gestured to the man holding the reins of both horses.
Stiger looked to Nomad for a long moment. The frustration was still there, just bubbling under the surface. A little marching would help work that out.
“No, I believe I will stay afoot,” Stiger said.
“Yes, sir, very good, sir.” Ruga turned to his men. “All right, you lazy bastards, you heard the legate, on your feet.”
SIXTEEN
Stiger, along with Taha’Leeth, Tenya’Far, Salt, and Therik, were being led through the dwarven encampment. Ruga and another legionary followed them. Dog, tail wagging, trotted behind the two legionaries. Their escort included an entire company of Braddock’s personal guard. Stiger understood it had not been necessary to send so many. The thane was simply honoring him and doing it in a way no one could misunderstand.
Braddock’s army had encamped on a large hilltop that could almost be described as a small-to-medium-sized mountain. The spot was about five miles from where General Kromen’s legionary encampment had been located and it dominated the surrounding terrain.
The army had been here for several days and had not been idle. The dwarves and gnomes had fortified their position with multiple trenches and a high wall topped by a stout barricade. It was an impressive defensive position and would be a difficult nut to crack.
Captain Jethga, captain of the escort, had explained the position had been carefully scouted and chosen by an advance team of Braddock’s engineers. Stiger’s legion, along with the elves, was encamping on an adjacent hill, a quarter of a mile distant. The dwarves had selected that as well. It, too, despite being smaller, was good defensive ground.
The sun had fallen, and despite it being dark and moonless, Stiger was impressed with what he had seen. The interior of the encampment was a veritable sea of life. Marching in a loose formation, half of Jethga’s company preceded them, forcing dwarves and gnomes alike aside to make room, sometimes not so gently when those in the way did not move fast enough.
Once they realized it was Stiger who was being escorted, Braddock’s dwarves and gnomes quickly moved to the side. They became quite still, lining both sides of the street. Some even saluted or came to attention, gnomes included, which Stiger found somewhat unsettling.
He knew from personal experience the vicious little bastards showed little respect to anyone, even for their own leaders. It was clea
r to Stiger he had become more than just a man or venerated leader. He’d become a symbol of faith. Once, that would have made him terribly uncomfortable. No more. He was who he was and that was the end of it.
Jethga, walking at his side, led them onward through a confusing maze of streets that were lined with communal tents, past company messes, armorers with portable forges, supply depots, artillery parks, and animal pens. There were thousands of communal fires with large numbers of dwarves and gnomes gathered around each for warmth. There were dwarves talking, laughing, eating, gaming, maintaining kit, and doing hundreds of other things. They passed training fields where entire companies drilled under torch and firelight.
Though he’d spent time with the dwarves, Stiger still found himself looking at all the strange sights and sounds, thoroughly fascinated. And had he been forced to navigate the encampment alone, Stiger knew he would have quickly become turned around and lost. It was that confusing, even though Jethga had assured him there was an order to everything.
“Is that a spider?” Salt asked in a horrified tone and pointed to a row of cook fires. Its legs dangling, a large spider was being roasted on a spit over one of the fires. Stiger suppressed a shudder of revulsion. He’d never much liked spiders.
“Krata,” Therik said, “it’s good eating, but they are dangerous critters. They live in the mountains around Vrell. In my youth, I used to hunt them. It was good fun and kept you on your toes, because they are highly venomous.”
“They’re very good eating,” Jethga said in agreement, stressing the word very. “Earlier today, one of our foraging companies came across a den. This land has been empty for so long, it seems the more dangerous creatures are moving in. If you’d like, sir, I could arrange for you to get some when it’s cooked. I believe you might like it. Krata is considered a delicacy amongst my people.”
“Thank you,” Stiger said, “but no.”
“Are you certain, sir?” the officer asked. “I assure you, krata meat is quite tasty.”
“I am very sure,” Stiger said and shared a glance with Eli. They both well recalled Hans, a servant of Avaya, and his pets. His so-called pets had been krata. The memory of that experience still occasionally haunted his dreams. “I think I’d rather have salt pork.”
Jethga appeared amused and clearly understood Stiger’s reluctance.
“I can arrange that too, sir,” Jethga said, “that is, if you are hungry.”
“No thank you, Captain,” Stiger said, amused by the suggestion, as they put the cook fires behind them. “I had my dinner before making the trek over.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eventually, they came to what was obviously Braddock’s headquarters compound. This consisted of a cluster of medium to large tents. A small defensive wall had been constructed around the compound, along with a trench. After Hrove’s betrayal before Old City, Braddock was clearly not taking any chances. What appeared to be an overstrength guard company was posted about the tents and bridge. The warriors wore the purple of Braddock’s own clan.
Messengers came and went from what looked to be an administrative tent on the left side of the compound. There were also several officers standing to the side of the entrance, apparently waiting for admittance. It reminded him of the legion’s headquarters. He imagined that Braddock had his own version of Nepturus. It was an amusing thought.
It was then, Stiger realized, he was in a good mood. Not only was the entire army back together, but they had been reinforced by Tenya’Far’s elves and made it out of the Sentinel Forest without the enemy moving to stop them. In a day or so, the entire army would undoubtedly begin moving north. Then there was Taha’Leeth. She was back with him and would be for the next few days.
As if sensing his attention, she looked over and caught his gaze. She shot him a knowing wink. Then Jethga ordered his dwarves to halt, breaking the moment. He personally led them up to the bridge with the gate, which was open. The gate guard stood aside, coming to positions of attention.
“This is where I will leave you, sir,” Jethga said. He offered a salute.
Stiger returned the salute. “Thank you for the escort, Captain.”
Stiger saw that Naggock was waiting for them just past the gate on the other side of the bridge over the trench. As usual, the commander of Braddock’s guard had a grave, hard look to him. Naggock took his duty of protecting the thane very seriously.
“Legate Stiger,” Naggock said, in Dwarven, as Stiger moved over the bridge with the others following. “Welcome to our army’s encampment. I hope you did not have too much trouble finding it.”
“Was that a joke?” Stiger asked, suddenly amused by the cheeky comment. “How could we miss an army this size? Especially with our lead cohort being guided by Braddock’s pioneers? Why, Naggock…I did not think you were capable of jesting. ”
“I’m not,” Naggock said, his beard twitching slightly as he came as close to a grin as Stiger had ever seen. “It just took you awhile to get here.”
“We did have to fight an army first,” Stiger said.
“I think that might have been a poor attempt at a joke,” Eli said in Dwarven. “Though our friend Naggock here has always been a little too serious, dour might be a better description…a lightening of his mood suits him, don’t you think?”
“It does,” Stiger said.
“Humor aside,” Naggock said, “the thane is very pleased you have arrived.”
“It is good to finally have made it,” Stiger said. “The march from Vrell was a long one.”
“That it was,” Naggock said, looking beyond Stiger at Therik. The dwarf eyed the orc with open suspicion. Stiger almost feared he would deny Therik entry, forcing the orc to wait. Naggock turned to Stiger and pointed at the orc. “You will take personal responsibility for him?”
“I speak Dwarven,” Therik said acidly.
“I think he feels you need a keeper, Therik,” Eli said.
Stiger struggled to suppress a grin.
Therik bared his tusks at Naggock, in what was most definitely not a grin. “I will teach him the meaning of respect.”
Stiger held up a hand to Therik as the orc took a step forward.
“Naggock,” Stiger said in a firm tone, “Therik is a trusted friend. Either he goes with us or the thane can come see me in my encampment.” Stiger spared a glance over at the orc to make sure he was not about to assault Naggock. “In truth, Therik is his own keeper. My terms are non-negotiable.”
Naggock shot Stiger an unhappy look, then seemed to reach some internal decision. He gave a shrug. “If you will follow me, sir, the thane has been waiting for you”—he shot an unhappy glance at Therik—“all of you.”
“Lead on,” Stiger said.
Therik muttered something under his breath about snooty dwarves. Luckily Naggock seemed not to hear it or, if he did, he purposely ignored the comment. He turned and led them up to the thane’s command tent. It was large and ostentatious, with four long purple pennants flying above from the support poles, which emerged from the top of the canvas covering. Braddock’s personal colors and standard also flew before the tent. The two guards by the entrance flap, standing next to a hissing torch, came to attention.
Naggock held aside the tent flap for Stiger. “He is expecting you.”
“Ruga,” Stiger said, turning to the centurion. “You and your man stay here.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruga said.
Stiger hesitated. He pointed to a fire that had been set nearby. “We’ll likely be a good bit. Might as well warm up, while you have the chance.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ruga said. “I will avail myself of dwarven hospitality.”
“I might have some spirits for them,” Naggock said. “If you don’t mind?”
“Now that sounds like a grand suggestion,” Ruga replied in heavily accented Dwarven, almost to the point of being broken. Then the centurion remembered himself, switching to Common and addressing Stiger, “Moderation, sir. That will be my watchword tonigh
t. You have my word on that, sir.”
Stiger had not known the valley-raised centurion spoke Dwarven. It seemed Ruga had a few surprises of his own.
“I served as one of the valley’s representatives,” Ruga said, having guessed Stiger’s thoughts. “It required me to learn their language, sir. I speak it passably.”
“If Naggock wants to share spirits with you, that’s his business,” Stiger said. “Yours is making sure you can do your duty when I am done here. I don’t want to have to deal with the embarrassment of having a party of gnomes drag you back.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruga said with a look to Naggock. “That sounds like a challenge, sir.”
Stiger gave a grunt and stepped past Naggock, entering the tent. Braddock, wearing a richly cut purple tunic, was standing at a large table in the center of the tent, as was another dwarf he did not know. The tent itself was clearly the thane’s office.
Lanterns hanging from the ceiling provided the light. A thick rug covered the ground. There was a desk, with several stools and a number of trunks that had been pushed up against the left wall. Two braziers by the back wall smoked heavily, creating a slight haze under the yellowed light. The tent smelled strongly of coal.
Eli, Taha’Leeth, Tenya’Far, Salt and Therik followed Stiger into the tent. Dog came last. The guards looked as if they might object to the animal entering, but when Dog gave a low, menacing growl, they changed their minds and stood back. The animal was, after all, very large, especially to a dwarf.
“Ah, Legate, we meet again,” Braddock said, turning to face them. He stepped forward and held out his arm, which Stiger clasped. “It has been too long. I find it is good to see you, my ally and friend.”
Dog padded up to them and sat down at Stiger’s side, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he gazed upon the thane. Stiger almost frowned, for the animal was exhibiting incredible self-control, which in and of itself was unusual.
The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5) Page 28
