“So, it is a credible report then?” Salt said.
“We believe it is,” Kiello said. “The report mentioned that a number of legions were defeated, and the survivors withdrew to Lorium, including the emperor.”
Stiger wondered what legion or legions were there, holding the city.
“The emperor was massing his legions just north of that city,” Tenya’Far said. “When I left him, he was expecting a battle somewhere south of Lorium…in a matter of weeks, if not days. Should such an action have gone poorly, the survivors could have fallen back upon Lorium like he said. The city walls are impressive and, given sufficient supply, could easily withstand a protracted siege.”
Stiger sucked in a breath at that. Was he already too late?
“I met with the emperor personally,” Tenya’Far said. “General Treim was to command the combined imperial forces.”
Stiger shared a glance with Eli.
“Unfortunately,” Tenya’Far said, “the rest of the warden’s army was several weeks away. We were the advance force.”
“And still the emperor sent you to us?” Stiger asked, thinking such a move would have depleted the army’s strength when the emperor would have likely needed every sword.
“He and I were under the impression you needed relief,” Tenya’Far said. “With the Sentinel Forest as a barrier and the Vrell road in enemy hands, we were the logical choice to send.”
“Do we have an idea on the size of the enemy army besieging Lorium?” Taha’Leeth asked.
“No,” Kiello said, “other than it is quite a large force, numbering in the tens of thousands.”
Stiger wondered on the size of this army and its quality. Were they composed of rebels or mainly Cyphan or a mix of the two?
“We also have information,” Kiello continued, “from the same source, that the main enemy body has taken Ivera to the east and is marching toward the coastal roads that run from Asti to Venney and then ultimately to Mal’Zeel. We feel confident this is reliable information, as our scouts were able to see evidence of a large army having moved recently in the direction of Asti.”
“Why move that way?” Stiger asked. “There are better routes that travel north, an entire network of roads that are paved. Those coastal roads are not the most reliable nor direct, and certainly not the kind of roads I would want to march an army over. What kind of prisoner was he? Infantry, cavalry?”
“Supply,” Kiello said. “He was captured with a foraging team and was questioned by our scouts. So were two of his men that survived the ambush. They all sang the same tune. Apparently, the confederacy intends to resupply their armies from the port of Asti. Since they are a seafaring power, this makes sense.”
“Until then,” Stiger surmised, “they are living off the land. That is why they are stripping what they can and heading for the coast. As they advance up the coast to the capital, they can keep themselves supplied from the sea.”
“It also explains,” Braddock said, “why we’ve only seized a small amount of supply moving along the King’s Highway, destined for rebel-held garrisons in the area. And why there are no Cyphan garrisons of any consequence nearby. They seem to have taken most of their soldiers with them north.”
“You said armies,” Stiger said.
“The enemy apparently has three armies,” Braddock said. “Well, had three, if you take into account the one that was at Vrell…the rebel army you destroyed.”
“I would think someone from supply might know the strengths of those armies,” Salt said. “Did your interrogators ask the prisoner?”
Kiello cleared his throat. “He was a low-ranking officer and unfortunately expired before we could obtain that information. The other two knew even less than he did and were fairly illiterate.”
“Our interrogators were a little too aggressive,” Braddock said. “My people feel a keen hatred toward the Cyphan.”
“They must put that hatred aside,” Stiger said. “We can’t afford to pass up vital intelligence in favor of revenge.”
Braddock gave a nod. “It has already been addressed. This will not happen again.”
“Well,” Stiger said, “there’s nothing we can do about that now. I am sure, as we move north, we will take additional prisoners and get a better idea on what we face.”
“So, the question is,” Braddock said, “with the information we have, what do we do? The three of us”—the thane looked from Tenya’Far to Stiger—“should be in agreement on our next steps.”
“The four of us,” Taha’Leeth said. There was steel in her voice. “Though my people have yet to arrive, they will come.”
“The four of us,” Braddock corrected. “My apologies, my lady.”
“A pursuit seems predetermined,” Eli said.
“It does,” Taha’Leeth agreed. “We must stop them from taking Mal’Zeel and obtaining the Key.”
“I am not completely sold on a pursuit.” Stiger pointed down at the map. “The enemy to the north may not yet know we are here. Though if they are destroying the bridges over the rivers, they know some sort of threat is down here in the South.”
“Or, sir,” Salt said, “they could be destroying what they can’t take with them so that the empire can’t use what’s left behind. By razing Aeda and putting the population to the sword, they’ve denied us manpower. Given time, we could have raised an auxiliary cohort or two from that city.”
“Good point,” Stiger said, then leaned forward and tapped the map where Asti was located. “If they’d taken Asti, they’ve likely advanced too far to have gotten word yet of our presence.”
“I feel fairly confident they will receive word soon enough,” Braddock said. “Eventually, they will send cavalry in strength to scout us out and then they will know we have an army to their rear.”
“Agreed,” Stiger said. “Lorium seems like the next logical move while we have the element of surprise.”
“It is,” Therik agreed. “Deal with what’s close at hand and easy to reach first. Then worry about the rest later.”
Stiger studied the map for a long moment.
“We can’t bypass Lorium,” Stiger said, “especially with an enemy army there. If we go and pursue the enemy’s main drive to the coast”—he touched the map—“this army at Lorium could break the siege of the city and come after us. We might find ourselves caught on two sides and badly outnumbered. It makes sense to deal with Lorium first and eliminate what’s there.”
“I agree,” Kiello said.
“If the enemy did go to the coast,” Stiger continued, “after we deal with the force at Lorium, we can still beat them to Mal’Zeel by taking the direct route over main imperial roads… paved roads. And, more importantly, there are potential allies in Lorium, a legion or more.” Stiger paused and looked up at the thane. “What do you think, Braddock?”
“I was going to suggest the same thing,” Braddock said. “I am told the terrain between Lorium and here is fairly open, with only a scattering of small forests and wooded areas. Some of the rivers will require bridging, but we can plan for that and should have no problem moving north.”
“We have bridging equipment,” Salt said. “And we can easily make more if needed.”
Salt leaned forward and tapped the city of Lorium with a finger.
“Lorium’s, what, two hundred fifty miles,” Salt said, “maybe three hundred from here?”
“More like three hundred,” Kiello said. “It’s at least two hundred to Aeda and then another one hundred or more to Lorium.”
“We could be at the city in twenty days,” Braddock said, “maybe less if we push our march a bit.”
“They won’t have a good picture of our strength for some time,” Stiger said. “Especially with our cavalry screen in place. To make the screen more difficult to penetrate, we will need to pull them in and closer to the line of march. There is a risk with that, as it will limit our own scouting. But with fewer miles to cover, the thicker our protective screen will become, making it
more difficult for enemy scouts to win through and eyeball our army.” Stiger rubbed his jaw. “Though when they do discover our strength, and they will, the army at Lorium will likely turn and face us head on. That will mean a battle somewhere on the road south of the city.”
“I like it,” Braddock said. “We could be all the way to Lorium, knocking on the enemy’s door, before the army that went east can react and backtrack.”
“Of course,” a voice wizened by age said, from the tent flap, “that all depends on what the enemy’s wyrms are doing. They could spot you pretty quick and get that intelligence back to the enemy in just a day or two if the enemy sends them our way.”
Stiger turned, as did everyone else. It was Ogg. The wizard stumped over to them, leaning heavily upon his staff. Stiger found his appearance quite shocking. He looked seriously aged, almost ancient. The effort to hold open the Gate had clearly taken a severe toll upon him.
“They have wyrms?” Stiger asked and closed his eyes in exasperation. “Of course they do. Why not? Castor’s force had wyrms. Why not Valoor’s boys too?”
“They brought a wyrm with them when they crossed the Narrow Sea,” Taha’Leeth said. “The Cyphan have a breeding pair.”
“You knew?” Stiger asked, surprised she’d not told him. He wondered why she’d withheld that information.
“I thought you knew,” Taha’Leeth said.
“Why would you think that?” Stiger asked.
“You have a friend who is noctalum,” Taha’Leeth said. “He surely would have told you, for they can sense wyrms.”
Ogg turned to Taha’Leeth. “Very few know this…but wyrms cannot be sensed from a great distance, which means Menos would not have known the Cyphan had any. The creatures have Will, yes…but unlike a noctalum’s…it is almost insignificant, which means he would have had to have been fairly close to sense them.”
Taha’Leeth seemed horrified by that news. She looked to Stiger, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Do you know how many wyrms the confederacy has?” Ogg asked, drawing her attention back to him.
“I know of twelve wyrms,” Taha’Leeth said. “But as I said, there was only one that I was aware of that came north. The lords of the Cyphan are very careful with their wyrms. The creatures help guarantee their control and power. Without them, they are vulnerable. I was led to believe they would be keeping most of them at home.”
“Well,” Ogg said, “they’ve got more than one with them now. How many? I don’t know.”
“How can you sense them,” Stiger asked, “if Menos could not? Are they close?”
“I have other means,” Ogg said. “And as to close…let’s just say they are close enough. I’d much prefer them to be far to the south.”
“This just keeps getting better and better,” Stiger said.
“It does.” Ogg stepped over to Stiger and tapped him on the chest. “I have an important question for you. Tell me…what did you do with our noctalum? Where did you send him? For I cannot sense his presence anywhere on this continent and, given his strength of Will, that should be impossible.”
“You can’t?” Stiger asked in dismay, a cold feeling settling over him.
“No,” Ogg said. “And I am sure you know that is not good.”
“Oh shit,” Stiger said as another part of the puzzle fell into place. If Ogg could not sense Menos, then it meant the noctalum was likely dead. And now, he knew the enemy had dragons of their own.
SEVENTEEN
Stiger sat on a stool in his personal tent, thoroughly depressed. Across from him was Ogg, who looked unhappy, almost beyond measure. The wizard shifted slightly on his own stool as if uncomfortable. The meeting in Braddock’s tent had ended several hours before, as had the feast that had followed. Stiger had not eaten much. After hearing the wizard’s news, he’d not felt like it.
“You cannot sense him?” Stiger asked, again. “Are you absolutely certain?”
Appearing somewhat resentful, Ogg took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Stiger could feel the wizard’s power surge slightly as he used his Will. It made the small hairs on Stiger’s arms stand on end. Ogg opened his eyes and shook his head.
“I am certain.” The wizard’s tone was cantankerous. “As I’ve already told you multiple times, I cannot sense Menos. You should never have sent him off without checking with me first. It was a fool thing to do.”
“You weren’t around,” Stiger said.
“That’s right,” Ogg snapped back. “I was traveling with Braddock.”
“What about Currose?” Stiger asked. “Can you sense her?”
“Now she,” Ogg said, “I can. Currose is where we left her, at the mountain.”
“Well,” Stiger said, “at least that is something.”
“Yes,” Ogg said sarcastically, “I can sense an injured dragon who can do us absolutely no good in aiding our cause further.”
“Is it possible that Menos might be concealing himself from you?”
“I doubt it,” Ogg said.
“Perhaps he has a reason for doing so,” Stiger said. “In that he’s concealing himself from something else.”
“Like what?” Ogg asked.
“The enemy has wyrms. He could be hiding himself from them.”
“Wyrms cannot detect him in that way,” Ogg said. “They are relatively stupid creatures, no smarter than your average horse. I am telling you he’s not concealing himself.”
Stiger rubbed his jaw, feeling his frustration mount. “You are certain?”
Ogg gave a nod.
“Then he’s dead,” Stiger said.
“Perhaps,” Ogg said.
“What do you mean perhaps?” Stiger was becoming irritated, the depression giving way to anger. “Why can’t you wizards ever just say what you mean?”
“Very well, then,” Ogg said. “I shall make myself clear. He might be dead. He might not be. Noctalum have powers that wizards do not. Some of those powers I simply do not know about or understand. Remember, the noctalum are of the First Race, the creators of the World Gate network. They think very differently than the rest of us. Yes, it is not unheard of for them to conceal themselves from prying eyes, but that requires a tremendous amount of Will. So much so, I very much doubt Menos would be willing to part with it. So, to answer your question…yes, he could be shielding himself from me, but it is unlikely he is doing so.”
Stiger felt ill.
“As such, there are a few possibilities to explain what might have occurred,” Ogg said. “Do you want to hear them?”
“I do.”
“He may no longer be on this world.”
“Dead, then.”
“Since the World Gate is sealed,” Ogg said, “then yes, dead is one distinct possibility.”
“What is another?”
“He may have gone somewhere else,” Ogg said and then hesitated, as if trying to think of a way to explain. “He may have gone somewhere that is shielded from my vision but still remains in this world.”
“How is that possible?” Stiger asked.
“It shouldn’t be”—Ogg’s expression became one of distaste—“but unfortunately, it is.”
“Explain yourself,” Stiger said, feeling his anger increase.
Ogg’s eyes narrowed as he studied Stiger. “Your anger has been growing again. I can feel it roiling beneath the surface, radiating from you like a warm fire.”
Stiger followed the wizard’s gaze as it shifted over to his sword, which he’d left lying against his desk.
“Are you sure the sword is not feeding your anger?” Ogg asked, returning his attention to Stiger. “Like it was before?”
Stiger did not immediately respond. The question was a valid one, only the sword was dead and it was feeding him nothing.
“I would very much appreciate you answering my question,” Ogg insisted quietly, all anger from the wizard seeming to have fled. It was replaced with intense curiosity.
“The sword is dead,” Stiger said, gestu
ring vaguely at Rarokan with a hand. “I can’t feel anything from it. Not even the tingle.”
“Tingle?”
“What do you mean it shouldn’t be possible?” Stiger asked, not wanting to speak on his connection with the sword nor be diverted from the subject at hand. The thing was dead, so the line of questioning did not matter. What did, was Menos.
“There are places in this world,” Ogg said, “where the world of the dead meets the world of the living.”
“Are you serious?” Stiger sat back on the stool, horrified by the prospect.
“Yes, I am,” Ogg said. “I am always serious.”
“It did not seem like that before,” Stiger shot back. “You were always quite mad. Or was that an act?”
“It was no act,” Ogg snapped. “That was the near insanity caused by holding onto nearly enough power to fry my brain. I almost lost who I was…” The wizard calmed himself by taking a deep breath and letting it out. “Tingle? What did you mean by that?”
Stiger blew out a breath of his own, knowing Ogg would not stop until he got his answer. “I was recently able to summon the sword’s magic. Yet, in the past, every time I touched the sword, a tingle ran up my arm. Now…there is nothing, no sensation, no connection. The wizard within is gone. He has been for some time.”
“The magic may have come from within…your power.” Ogg scratched at his shaved chin. “The tingle could be a sign of the bond…or something else. Then again, the lack of it might be just as important. I will have to think on it.”
“What of this…world of the dead?” Stiger asked, the thought of it filling him with intense distaste. It was as if the High Father disapproved.
“The fabric of what you might call reality,” Ogg said, “was long ago torn. How does not matter, but if Menos went there…I would be unable to sense him.”
Stiger was silent for a long moment.
“Why would he go there?” Stiger asked.
“Before I answer,” Ogg said, “tell me…this anger of yours…has it been getting worse?”
The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5) Page 30
