The Tiger's Fate (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 3)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  To the left and very close, a high-pitched, agonized squeal drew his attention. Then came again the sound of sword meeting sword, which was once again followed by silence. Lan had heard stories of how deadly the elven rangers could be when in their element. They were well-known for being guardians of their people’s forests, always present but never seen, hunting and killing those who violated their borders. He had never truly believed until now.

  Lan stepped around a large tree, helping Jenna as he did so, and saw Stiger up ahead, leading the century onward. Two orcs charged from the trees. Sword drawn, the legate dropped one of the orcs in a move so fast and smooth it looked impossibly unnatural. The other orc charged a distracted legionary, who fell under a savage blow from its hammer. The two nearest legionaries immediately attacked the orc, cutting it brutally down with a rapid series of sword strikes.

  Centurion Ruga knelt down next to the fallen legionary and after a moment shook his head sadly. Jenna looked down with horror as they stepped around the man whose head had been crushed by the blow.

  “Don’t look,” Lan said, turning her head away with a firm hand. “Just keep going.”

  A clash behind them drew his attention. Lan turned and saw that several orcs had emerged from the darkness and were battling away with the rearguard. Sword drawn, Ruga pushed his way back to them, shouting orders and joining in on the fighting himself.

  “Marco, Max,” Ruga shouted as he waded into the fight. “On me, on me.”

  The two legionaries, who had been moving along the sides of the century, helping to cover the freed captives, stepped back and joined their centurion. The fighting intensified as additional orcs emerged from the darkness and threw themselves forward, snarling and howling like wild animals as they came.

  The century continued on toward the safety of the pass, with the rearguard fighting as they moved back, one step at a time. It was vicious and hard work, with neither side willing to show the other mercy. A man screamed and fell as a sword cleaved deeply into his thigh. Bleeding out in a gush of blood, the legionary thrust his sword up and into the belly of the orc that had just dealt him a mortal wound, punching the blade as deep as he could. The point emerged from the creature’s back. The orc gasped and choked. The legionary’s strength abandoned him and he released his sword as his lifeblood flowed away. He collapsed into the snow. A moment later, the orc fell dead over top of him.

  Jenna tripped on a tree root that had been concealed under the snow and fell hard. Lan lost his grip on her arm. She rolled down the slope to his right before coming to a stop in a tangle of limbs a dozen feet below.

  “Jenna!” Lan shouted in dismay and quickly made his way down to her side as she struggled to her knees. Reaching her, he helped her up, and together they started up the slope and back toward the security of the century.

  The sound of movement behind him caused Lan to turn. Something large was crashing through the brush. Though he could not see, he knew it was an orc. Lan gave her one more push ahead and up the slope, then drew his sword and turned to face whatever was coming out of the darkness. An orc with an incredibly large sword stepped around a tree. Their eyes met, and for a moment both stood frozen. Then the creature roared and charged the lieutenant.

  Lan braced himself and prepared to block the attack. The parry rang in his ears and left his hand hurting. He attempted a counterstrike, but in the darkness failed to see the orc lash out with a fist from its free hand. It connected with the side of his helmet, and Lan went down into the snow, sword flying from his hand and landing several feet up the slope. Dazed, he picked himself up on his hands and knees and was surprised to find the orc had focused its attention elsewhere. To his growing horror, Lan saw that it was advancing on Jenna. Struggling up the slope, she looked back and screamed. There was no one near enough to help. The closest legionaries were over ten feet away above them and fighting desperately for their lives.

  “No,” he shouted, scrambling to his feet. He drew his dagger and launched himself at the orc’s back. His first attempt scraped across the creature’s armor, but his second caught it in the back of the leg, digging deep. The orc roared in pain and slammed Lan backward with an elbow to the face. He tumbled down the slope, only coming to a stop when a tree painfully broke his plunge. Dazed and hurting, Lan picked himself up and saw the orc limping back toward him with the clear intention of finishing him off.

  Lan had lost his dagger and was defenseless. He tried backing up, but the tree was behind him and he stumbled back onto his butt, landing in the cold snow. The orc bared its teeth and raised its sword for the killing blow. Unexpectedly, the orc jerked violently, and then a sword point emerged from its neck, hot blood spraying over the lieutenant.

  The creature fell heavily, face first into the snow next to him, twitching and quite dead. Eyes wide, Lan looked up from the corpse. Jenna was standing there with his sword in her hand, trembling and looking quite shocked at what she had just done.

  Lan slowly dragged himself to his feet. His entire body was one big painful ache. Jenna was trembling and looking at him wide-eyed. He carefully took the sword from her, feeling incredible relief at still being alive. He looked back up the slope. The fighting had intensified. The rearguard was backing up just a few feet above them. He realized they needed to get moving or both of them might get left behind.

  “My father taught me how to use the sword,” she said, staring down at the dead orc as the moon peeked out from a cloud and bathed the land below in a pale light. “I . . . I never thought I would need to know how.”

  “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out, and at that moment, he realized that he truly did love her. It went beyond simple infatuation. He stood looking at her stupidly. Standing there in the moonlight, Jenna’s hair was a wet, tangled mess. He thought he had never seen anyone look so beautiful or be so brave. She had saved him, after he had set out to save her.

  “I know,” she said with a little smile. The trembling stopped. She bit her lower lip, glanced up the slope and then grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the safety of the century and the rearguard. Ruga saw them climbing up and called for the rearguard to stand firm. As soon as the two were safely up, he gave the order to begin falling back again. Lan and Jenna continued ahead of them. After several minutes of hard fighting, the last of the orcs pressing the rearguard were killed. Ruga, taking advantage of the opportunity, ordered the rearguard to catch up with the rest of the century, which was twenty feet ahead.

  The slope of the valley began to increase as they climbed up toward the pass, the century struggling onward. Orcs in ones and twos burst from the darkness, savagely throwing themselves at the legionaries, roaring as they did so. The legionaries worked together, efficiently cutting them down.

  At the rear of the century, Ruga squinted into the darkness as the moon went behind another cloud. The front was pulling ahead once again, and he barked an order to increase the pace. In the trees and darkness on either side of the struggling century, screams and roars of pain once again began to sound, with the occasional clash of steel.

  An orc burst from behind a tree, charging toward a legionary just ahead of the lieutenant. Lan made to shout a warning, but a shadow detached itself from the darkness, closing on the creature with frightful speed. There was a meaty thwack and a grunt, and the orc went crashing down into the snow. The shadow disappeared back into the darkness so rapidly that Lan wondered if he had imagined it. It had been one of the elves.

  There was a roar and several orcs charged from the trees to the left. A flash of white lightning that was followed by a solid-sounding crack caused Lan to jump. Father Thomas, wielding his large golden war hammer, fought alongside several legionaries there. The war hammer glowed with a holy light, illuminating those around him. The paladin had a fierce and determined expression on his face as he stepped forward and out of the press of men to confront another orc. He swung his hammer in a downward arc, an
d when it struck the creature, there was another brilliant flash of light, followed by a crack that momentarily blinded Lan. When his vision cleared, he saw the orc dead, rolling back down the slope like a tossed bag of potatoes.

  Jenna stumbled. Lan gripped her arm firmly to keep her from falling again. The climb was becoming much steeper and at points required some scrambling, which meant they were nearing the mouth of the pass. Helping Jenna, he almost did not see an orc explode from cover and charge toward them. A legionary to his left stepped before Lan, sword coming up to block the orc’s blow as the creature swung its long sword in a vicious arc. There was a deafening clash as the two swords met and sparked in the darkness. The legionary recovered quickly and jabbed his sword into the orc’s unprotected belly. The creature howled in pain and fell back, a hand over the wound, disappearing into the darkness from whence it came.

  “Thank you,” Lan said gratefully to the legionary.

  “You would do the same for me, sir.” The legionary was breathing hard. They were all winded, wet, and nearly exhausted.

  Abruptly, the column came to an unexpected halt. Lan actually bumped into the man before him and was about to say something, but instead stopped. Just ahead, he saw a line of orcs blocking their way. There were at least thirty of them, and they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. All wore armor, including helmets, and carried shields. They looked like an organized military formation.

  “Prepare to charge!” Stiger’s voice shouted from ahead, near the front. Those legionaries who were forward had been formed up by the legate into a hasty line of battle. Stiger stood just behind the line, his attention wholly fixed upon the enemy formation. “Give them some legionary steel, boys!”

  “High Father, lend us your holy light,” Father Thomas shouted in what sounded like a desperate appeal. There was a hissing, followed by an incredible crack, which thundered high above. A moment later, the valley exploded into light, as if the sun had risen early. Lan stared upward as the crack echoed around the mountains. A massive golden ball of light hovered perhaps two hundred feet above them, shedding its radiance down upon the small valley.

  Lan glanced back toward the line of orcs. They appeared to be stunned, all of them gaping upward at the light, with several even taking an unsure step backward. One of the orcs, taller than the others, recovered quickly and barked what sounded like an order.

  “Charge!” Stiger roared, and the legionaries at the front surged forward directly into the orc line.

  “Move!” Ruga shouted to the rearguard and the freed captives. “While we can, hurry now.”

  They scrambled forward as quickly as they could. The charge hit the orc line, which immediately buckled under the pressure and drove through it. Lan tried to steer Jenna through the confused melee of fighting and found himself facing an orc. He let go of Jenna’s arm and punched his sword into the orc’s side, but it scraped harmlessly against the orc’s breastplate. The creature snarled at him as an animal would, baring its teeth and swinging a fist in his direction. Lan ducked it and punched out again, stabbing toward the orc’s unprotected leg. The sword punched deep and the leg buckled. The orc fell heavily to a knee as Lan pulled his sword out. Another legionary to Lan’s right stabbed with his sword and drove it down through the creature’s neck, killing it with one strike.

  A half second later, a war hammer wielded by another orc slammed into the legionary’s side, driving him violently into Lan. They collapsed together in a heap. Managing to hang onto his sword, Lan struggled to free himself, scooting backward. He was partially pinned. The legionary who had been hit with the hammer was clearly dead; his armor and chest had been caved in from the force of the blow. The sight of it shocked Lan more than he cared to admit as he rolled the dying legionary off of him.

  The fighting swirled around the lieutenant as he pulled himself to his feet, looking for Jenna. Lan saw a freed captive brutally cut down by a sword that nearly cut the young boy in half. There were orcs all around the century. It occurred to him that they were heavily outnumbered, and he began to panic when he could not see Jenna. He finally found her down in the snow. She had been pushed backward by a legionary, who was shielding her from an orc warrior. The orc’s large sword swung around, knocking the legionary’s sword aside and slicing deeply into the man’s neck. He collapsed, unmoving, his blood pumping out in squirts onto the snow.

  Lan, seeing that the orc wore a breastplate and helmet, lunged forward before it could recover, aiming his sword for the unprotected armpit. He missed, but his momentum knocked the orc down. Managing to remain on his feet, Lan pulled his sword back to attack again and found himself facing another orc. A powerful fist caught him in the face. Vision swimming, he managed to slam the sword as hard as he could into the creature’s exposed neck. Warm blood sluiced over his hand and sword as the orc fell forward onto him, knocking him down. He rolled out from underneath the creature as it kicked its death throes and got to his feet, once again looking for Jenna. She had pulled herself to her knees and was looking around in wide-eyed fear. He made his way to her side, staggering slightly.

  The paladin’s light illuminated the desperate struggle. Lan blinked, trying to get a sense for what was occurring around him. It was chaos, but he was now sure they were losing. His mind screamed that he had to get Jenna away and to safety, but he did not know where they could go. The century was completely surrounded. Stiger had formed the men into a defensive ring and was calling out encouragements, his sword glowing with magical energy as he struck down orc after orc in a mad frenzy. It was clear to Lan that there was no longer any thought about struggling forward toward the pass and safety. Without their shields, Lan knew there was no way the century would last long, as the orcs threw themselves forward with reckless abandon at the human legionaries.

  Lan took a step toward Jenna, realizing with a deep sadness that they would die together, when a tremendous shout rang out to his right. This was followed by the sound of many feet thundering through the snow and a resounding crash. Lan rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. He was not quite sure he believed what he was seeing. A wall of charging legionaries, shields to the front, slammed into the orcs from behind. In just seconds, they pushed through to the survivors of the century and then past them, throwing the orcs violently back.

  Exhausted, battered, and bloodied, Lan helped Jenna to her feet. Concern in her eyes, she reached a tender hand up to his face, which he could feel was beginning to bruise. She touched his lip, which had been split open. He winced at her light touch and then grinned through bloody teeth. They were saved. They were going to live.

  “I love you,” she said in a low voice and then tucked into him in an embrace, leaning her head against his armor.

  “I know,” he replied with a smile that rapidly turned into a wince. His split lip hurt too much to continue smiling.

  There was much shouting as the orcs were chased off into the woods. Officers were blowing whistles and calling for their men to reform. Lan glanced around at the survivors of the century. He was painfully aware that there were very few, perhaps maybe thirty of the original eighty left. It had been a close thing. He saw Stiger and Ruga speaking with another centurion. They were gesturing back up the hill toward the pass, which Lan realized was only thirty to forty feet away.

  “Fourth Century,” Ruga shouted, coming back their way. “You’ve had your fun, you lazy bastards. Time to get back to some real soldiering. Fall in. We’re moving up to the pass.”

  Ruga stopped when he saw Jenna holding fiercely onto Lan. “I understand your father is waiting for you just up there,” he said with a slight smile at the girl and then sent a wink, which was directed to Lan.

  “Yes, Uncle Ruga,” Jenna said. “I would expect nothing less from Papa.”

  The older centurion reached out a hand and fondly tousled her hair, as one might a child. He then stepped off, shouting at his men as if they had done something wrong.

&nbs
p; “Uncle?” Lan asked, slipping from her embrace. He wiped his blade clean on his soaked tunic and sheathed it.

  “My favorite uncle,” she said with a grin. “He always brought me a toy or sweet when he stopped by the tavern.”

  “Favorite uncle?” Lan asked, looking back at the mean-looking centurion and seeing a different side of the man.

  “And most protective,” she said with a playful smile, clearly relieved that they would both live another day.

  Lan saw the elves and Marcus emerge from the woods as the holy light that Father Thomas had conjured dissipated, plunging the valley back into darkness illuminated only by the pale glow of moonlight. Eli was making a beeline for Stiger.

  “I think we had better get up the pass.” Lan turned, and together they continued up the slope to safety.

  Thirteen

  Stiger struggled up the last few feet of slope to the top of the pass with a feeling of vast relief. He felt like dropping to the ground and resting, but instead surveyed the scene before him. Thirty to forty feet ahead, Second Cohort had built a small improvised barricade, neatly blocking the pass. While he had been gone, the men had not been idle. The barricade had been constructed using a small berm of snow that they had built up and then packed down. A number of tree trunks had been placed atop the snow berm in a crisscrossed fashion, creating a crude but serviceable barrier for the men to fight behind.

  Stiger glanced over as Ruga clambered up next to him. The centurion’s armor was dented and scratched. One of the chin guards on his helmet was missing. Blood, both green and red, had spattered across his armor and dried. The centurion looked as wet, cold, and miserable as Stiger felt. Fighting under winter conditions was a terrible experience that tended to significantly increase casualties. It was why most fighting stopped during the winter months and armies typically went into quarters ‘til spring.