The Tiger’s Wrath (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 5)

by Marc Edelheit

  “Good point,” Stiger said. “But we can’t expect such indecision to continue for much longer. Eventually he will have to make a decision.”

  “Maybe they will use a dragon,” Ogg said, “maybe not. Perhaps they will sit still until we get to Lorium…perhaps not. There is no telling what the enemy is thinking at this point. We must proceed as we believe best and not overthink things.”

  “You said”—Stiger turned to Ogg—“that you could detect the enemy’s dragons, correct?”

  “I can,” Ogg said. “There are some to the north and others to the east. They have more than one wyrm. I do not know how close they are or their actual number. It is sort of a general thing.”

  “That’s not very helpful,” Braddock said.

  “No, it’s not,” Ogg replied acidly. “If you can find a wizard who can do better, My Thane, then do so.”

  Braddock’s cheeks flushed. He was about to reply, when Nepturus stepped into the tent.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Nepturus said. He held a dispatch in his hand. “I knew you would want to see this. It just came in from Prefect Hux. The messenger said it was of the utmost importance.”

  Stiger took the dispatch and opened it, scanning the contents. The dispatch was very brief. His heart quickened. He read it a second time and then set it down on the table.

  “Is the messenger still here?” Stiger asked his clerk.

  “Yes, sir,” Nepturus said. “He’s half-dead with exhaustion. He brought several remounts and, I am told, rode straight through from near Lorium.”

  “Send him in, would you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Nepturus retreated.

  “I’ve just received an update from Hux,” Stiger said. “The enemy has broken off their siege and are now marching.”

  “To meet us?” Braddock asked.

  “Yes,” Stiger said. “It seems they’ve made up their mind and intend to give battle.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “Well.” Braddock rubbed his hands together. “It’s about time. Finally, a proper fight.”

  “Trooper Jagus, sir,” Nepturus said, reentering the tent. With him was the messenger. The trooper was covered in dust and looked like he was ready to drop. Despite his exhaustion, Jagus appeared awed and nervous by those gathered before him in the tent. He offered Stiger a salute.

  “Do you know the contents of this dispatch?” Stiger asked, gesturing at the table.

  “I do, sir,” Jagus said. “I received it directly from Prefect Hux’s own hand, sir.”

  “Did you personally see the enemy army marching?” Stiger asked.

  “No, sir,” Jagus said. “However, I did speak to the prefect himself. He eyeballed the enemy’s column of march, sir. He said there are at least seventy thousand on the move and they look well organized. They’ve completely broken off their siege of the city and are taking everything with them. That even includes their baggage train and camp followers. They have also burned their siege engines.”

  “When did they march, son?” Salt asked.

  “This morning, before dawn, sir.”

  “At this point, we’re likely a day’s march away from each other,” Braddock said, “maybe less.”

  “The prefect said they were making good time, sir.”

  “What else can you tell us?” Stiger asked, turning back to the trooper. “Were any dragons seen?”

  “Dragons?” the trooper asked. “No, sir. We’ve not seen any live ones…only those that were dead in the fields before the city.”

  “Perhaps that’s all they had?” Braddock suggested, looking over to Ogg.

  “It’s not,” Ogg said. “They have more of the beasts. You need to trust my word on this, my thane.”

  “Good, good,” Cragg said, enthusiastically. The gnome was so excited to see his dragon-killing bolt throwers in action, he was almost hopping. “We shoot and kill dragons. Good…good, yes?”

  Stiger ignored the gnome.

  “There was a nasty fight with the enemy’s cavalry, sir,” the trooper added. “It happened the day before the enemy marched, sir…late afternoon and into evening. It was as if they were trying to push us back and away from the city and the King’s Highway. The prefect set an ambush. We gave them a good drubbing, sir…cut them up pretty good. After that, what was left of their cavalry pulled back.”

  Stiger glanced down at the dispatch. Hux had mentioned nothing of a fight, but it was good news all the same. A formal report would likely follow at some point. He’d sent Jagus to report on the critical information. Stiger figured the cavalry fight was the enemy attempting to push his eyes back and steal a march on them, only Hux had likely been expecting such a move.

  Jagus abruptly swayed on his feet and almost fell. Tenya’Far moved forward and swiftly caught his arm and helped to steady him.

  “Sorry, sir,” Jagus said, pulling himself back to attention. “I’ve ridden straight through. I did not stop to eat or rest. The prefect told me to get to you as quick as I could.”

  “We thank you for your news and your effort.” Stiger looked over at his clerk. “Nepturus, get him some food and a place to rest, will you?”

  “Yes, sir,” the clerk said and helped the legionary out of the tent.

  “Well,” Stiger said, “we have a battle to plan.”

  “We do,” Salt said and stepped over to another table where he retrieved a map. He returned and laid the map down over the one Hux had provided. This new map detailed the South and included Lorium.

  “Do we continue the advance to meet the enemy?” Stiger asked. “Or find what good ground we can and wait for them to come to us?”

  “With all this rolling country,” Braddock said, “there is no good ground to be had, other than the occasional rise. I say we march and meet them.”

  “Our marching column stretches for over a hundred miles,” Tenya’Far pointed out and traced a line on the map, back down King’s Highway. “Each night, we have three different encampments spread out over thirty to forty miles of road. We need to begin concentrating the army, and soon.”

  “That means a half day’s march for tomorrow, then, maybe less,” Salt said. “We will also need to begin pulling in our cavalry. We’ve been using them hard. I think we’ll want to give them what little rest we can before we go into battle.”

  “There is no doubt we will need them during the battle.” Stiger turned to his camp prefect. “Salt, see that orders are cut to Hux as soon as we are done here. He will still need to keep scouts out to shadow the enemy’s line of march, but I want the bulk of his boys back with us.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “And if they have wyrms?” Eli asked.

  “We use our dragon killers,” Braddock said and waved a hand toward Cragg. “We put his boys to the test and hope they come through for us.”

  “We do job. No worry,” Cragg said.

  “With you gnomes,” Braddock said, “I always worry.”

  “Bah.” Cragg waved a dismissive hand. “You no worry.”

  “The emperor could be there, in Lorium, sir,” Salt said. “Shouldn’t we try to send word? Especially considering the enemy’s lifted their siege.”

  “I doubt there’s time to get word to Lorium,” Stiger said. “Any battle will likely be long over by the time our messenger could arrive. They will be unable to assist us, even if they are not already on short rations and half-starved.”

  “I still think we should make the attempt, sir,” Salt said. “They may be able to profit off of knowing we’re out here.”

  “You’re right,” Stiger said. “I will write them later tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Salt said.

  “The emperor may be in Lorium,” Ogg said, “but at least we know the Key is not there.”

  “How so?” Braddock asked.

  “If the Key to the World Gate was there,” Ogg said, “the Cyphan would have torn Lorium apart to get at it. They would not be marching for the coast with the bulk of their army.
Instead, they split their armies and settled for leaving the remains of the imperial army inside the city. My guess is the army sieging Lorium is meant to bottle up the legionaries and contain them there. At least long enough for the army that went east to defeat whatever other forces the empire has or can throw together.”

  “It all comes down to the Key,” Stiger said.

  “The Key is the heart of the matter,” Ogg said, “for the present anyway.”

  “Shame you could not get it in the past and bring it back with you,” Braddock said to Stiger, “like you did with the Thirteenth.”

  “That would have altered our history,” Ogg said, “or at least changed some things we would not want altered.” The wizard waved a hand in Stiger’s direction. “Thoggle would have cautioned him on doing something like that. Am I right?”

  “He did,” Stiger said.

  Ogg abruptly stiffened as he looked to the entrance of the tent. The wizard’s hand clutching his staff tightened. He sucked in a startled breath. Stiger realized something was wrong.

  “So,” Eli said, having not noticed the wizard’s reaction. “If the emperor doesn’t have the Key with him or did not bring it south, where is it?”

  “It is hidden in the heart of the capital,” a new voice said from the entrance of the tent, “at least I believe it to be.”

  Stiger blinked and turned in utter astonishment, not quite believing his eyes. “You’re not dead.”

  Menos had entered the tent. He gazed around at those gathered for a long moment.

  “You bastard,” Ogg hissed.

  “I am very much alive.” The noctalum gestured toward Ogg. “I imagine I gave the wizard quite the scare.” He turned his gaze to Stiger. “Maybe even you too?”

  “Bloody fool,” Ogg spat at the noctalum. “Scare? You bastard. It’s about time you decided to return. In my weakened state, this army could have been destroyed while you were out wandering around. Did you go sightseeing?”

  The elves recovered from their shock at the noctalum’s appearance. All three bowed their heads respectfully. Menos ignored them. He appeared amused by the wizard.

  “Where were you?” Stiger asked, having also recovered from his surprise. He felt his anger burn hot at his friend, for being absent so long. At the same time, there was an immense feeling of relief.

  “I was here and there,” Menos said. “I was not sightseeing. I can tell you the enemy is certainly aware of this army. They are marching to meet you.”

  “We know,” Stiger said. “We were just discussing that.”

  “They have two flights of wyrms at their disposal, and within easy reach too, just to the north,” Menos said. “Eight wyrms in total.”

  “Gods,” Salt breathed. “Eight dragons?”

  “Oh good,” Cragg said, rubbing his little hands together in eager anticipation. “Good…good.”

  Stiger turned to Salt. “You had to tempt Fortuna, didn’t you?”

  “Eight dragons?” Salt asked. “Sir, I saw what one was capable of doing with my own eyes…that one you took down before Old City. How can we withstand eight? Even with him on our side?”

  “I believe,” Menos said, before Stiger could answer, “when they bring you to battle, they intend to hit you with their wyrms. It will be a repeat of what they did to the emperor’s legions a few weeks back. I spoke to several survivors. It was a rather one-sided fight. I would expect the enemy to be overconfident, since it worked the first time.”

  Stiger could well imagine. Before Vrell, he had thought dragons were creatures of myth and legend. Now, he knew differently.

  “There are too many for you to deal with, right?” Salt asked Menos.

  “Alone,” Menos said, “you would be correct. Even with Currose, were she healthy, there are too many.”

  Stiger felt a wave of intense frustration wash over him. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at the rug, thoughts racing. Even with the gnomes and a noctalum, the enemy’s advantage in dragons would see their army crushed and scattered.

  “What about the sertalum?” Stiger asked, looking back up and fearing that Menos might have more bad news. “Is she coming, too?”

  “She is keeping her distance, as of now,” Menos said. “I do not believe she is planning on interfering.”

  “Well,” Stiger said, “that is good.”

  “At least,” Menos added, “not at present anyway. She might become involved later.”

  Stiger eyed the noctalum for a long moment, then stepped over to a side table where a pitcher of wine sat with a handful of mugs. He poured himself a healthy drink and drank it down in one go. Then, he turned back. The tent had fallen silent, with all eyes on the noctalum. Only Cragg looked excited by the prospect of what was coming.

  “You went for help,” Stiger said as he put the empty mug back down on the table. “Didn’t you? That’s why you disappeared for so long. You decided we needed help against the enemy’s wyrms.”

  “I did,” Menos said and shook a long, thin finger at Stiger. “Thoggle was right about you not being so stupid.”

  Stiger wondered on where Menos had gone for help.

  “The other World Gate is still functioning, isn’t it?” It was a gut feeling, but Stiger felt it the right one. “You went there. And traveled to another world. Didn’t you?”

  “Again,” Menos said, “you impress me.”

  “That’s impossible,” Taha’Leeth said, looking between them. “I already told you, I saw to it that Gate was destroyed.”

  Menos gave a cold laugh.

  “Fool elf.” The noctalum’s tone was condescending. “It was the noctalum and sertalum who built the World Gates. You only damaged it and then dropped it beneath a sea. Did it not occur to you the Gate could be repaired?”

  “It’s open?” Ogg asked, thoroughly aghast. “The Gate to Yarro is open? How long has it been open? Why would you do that?”

  “Yes, it is active and open.” Menos sounded pleased with himself. “But, even now, it is very hard to access.” The noctalum paused. “Only Currose and myself can get to the Gate, let alone use it.” Menos gave a thin smile. “I was thinking of offering that information to the sertalum…as a way…to ensure she does not interfere with us.”

  “What do you mean?” Ogg demanded. “You would trust her? Trust the noctalum’s age-old enemy?”

  “Trust her? Of course not,” Menos scoffed. “However, I can offer her an escape from this backwater. If she agrees, it would make things easier for us in the long term. Who knows, she might even help us, if she wants off Istros bad enough.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Ogg hissed, stamping the bottom of his staff on the rug. “I will not allow it. She might return from Yarro with reinforcement.”

  “I don’t think that likely,” Menos said and chuckled darkly. “Not now anyway.”

  “Why not?” Taha’Leeth asked. “Yarro was nearly overrun with our enemy when we fled through the Gate.”

  “Your enemy at the time was the Vass,” Menos said. “Am I right on that point?”

  Taha’Leeth gave a slow nod. “They are still the enemy, just as the Cyphan are.”

  “Well,” Menos said, “Yarro is firmly in their hands.”

  “And yet you would still open the Gate?” Taha’Leeth hissed. “The sertalum are aligned to the Vass.”

  “She will not work with the Vass,” Menos said, “and they won’t work with her. I don’t believe you need to worry about that, not anymore.”

  “Why did you bother going to Yarro?” Stiger asked. “I thought you said the Vass were across the ocean.”

  “I did,” Menos said. “It was quicker to travel to Yarro than hunt down the Vass on Istros…quicker than flying halfway around this world.”

  “There are Vass on this world?” Taha’Leeth said, in near horror.

  “There are,” Tenya’Far said. “A handful came through the World Gate with us when we fled Tanis. They were part of a splinter group and fought with us, but still we did
not trust them. Once the Gate was sealed they went their own way. We have not seen them since.” The elf paused and turned his attention from Taha’Leeth to Menos. “How can you be certain the sertalum will not work with the Vass?”

  “It seems,” Menos said, “when it comes to the Vass on Yarro, their alignment has shifted somewhat.”

  “Shifted?” Tenya’Far said. “How so?”

  “Who are the Vass?” Salt asked.

  Taha’Leeth pointed an accusing finger at Menos. “You cut a deal with them, didn’t you?”

  “I negotiated for two knights of the Vass, no less, a few flights of taltalum,” Menos admitted, “and some of their infantry.”

  “Taltalum?” Stiger asked. “Those are the dragons you mentioned before when we talked?”

  Menos gave a nod. “They will be enough to counter eight wyrms, with my help, of course.”

  “What?” Cragg almost shouted. It came out as a high-pitched squeak. “No. We shoot, kill dragons!”

  “I can’t believe I am hearing this,” Taha’Leeth said in Elven to Tenya’Far. “There are Vass on Istros and he wants more to come.”

  Eli’s father became visibly enraged, his face flushing with color. He took a half-step toward Menos. “You are a fool, noctalum. Now that you have repaired the World Gate and invited them to this world, the Vass will stay and claim it for their own. All we fight for will be lost in the end. How could you do this to us? Why would you do it?”

  “No,” Menos said, sounding certain. His tone grew cold and menacing. “I have worked hard to make this happen. They will not stay, and I am no fool. Best watch yourself with me, elf.”

  “I don’t understand,” Salt said. “Who are the Vass?”

  “They are an ancient race,” Taha’Leeth answered, heat in her tone. “A warrior people and a sworn enemy of ours. They make the Cyphan look quite tame by comparison.”

  “They are not an enemy anymore,” Menos said and walked over to the pitcher of wine. He poured himself a drink and turned back to face them. “They want nothing to do with Istros.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Ogg said. “The Vass are not to be trusted. With this I am in agreement with the elves. I believe you made a bad decision here.”