Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  An entire legion had once disappeared in this area. Every legionary knew of the 13th, subsequently known as the Vanished. The 13th had been led by a great general and man, Delvaris. It had occurred when the empire had first decided to expand into the wild, untamed lands of the South. There were rumors, speculations and legends. Yet no one knew for sure what had happened. The legion had been the first to march south, and had simply disappeared into the vast southern forests, as if by magic. Many had gone in search of the 13th’s eagle, the symbol of the empire, but none had ever found it. Over three hundred years later, the mystery of the Vanished was no closer to being solved, and had since become legend.

  With the loss of the 13th, the Delvaris family reputation, prestige and influence had subsequently been ruined. Unfortunately, the captain had a personal connection to the story. Ben Stiger was a direct descendent, on his mother’s side, of General Delvaris. Though General Delvaris was a distant relative, the entire affair was also a black mark on the Stiger family history.

  Stiger rubbed his eyes, tired. There was a hard knock on the doorframe, jarring him from his contemplations. Despite the cold, Stiger had left the door open. He enjoyed hearing the sound of the rain. He found it relaxing.

  “Yes?” Stiger asked, looking up.

  “Sorry to bother you, sir. I thought you would like to know Lieutenant Lan’s patrol is coming in,” Corporal Kennet reported. Stiger had recently approved ten men for promotion to corporal. A week later, it appeared that his sergeants had made good recommendations. Yet the true test of their worth would ultimately come with battle.

  “Thank you. Have their horses put up in the barn,” Stiger ordered. “See that his men get fed and are allowed to dry out somewhere. When the Lieutenant is ready, please escort him over.”

  “Yes sir,” the corporal responded, and left.

  Stiger leaned back in his chair, contemplating the lieutenant. This was his fifth visit to their camp in as many weeks. Each visit had only lasted a few hours, as the troop took a break from their patrolling. Lan was from a good, though moderately prosperous family from the province of Venney. The family was known for their exquisite wines, which they produced and shipped throughout the empire.

  There was another knock at the door. Stiger looked up to find the lieutenant. The man was dripping wet and looking a tad bit miserable, but proud.

  “Lieutenant,” Stiger greeted, without getting up. “Nice to see you again. I trust that, despite the rain, you had a quiet patrol?”

  “Lieutenant Lan,” the lieutenant said formally, stepping into the room. He drew himself up to attention and saluted. “Reporting for duty as ordered.” Dripping water on the roughhewn wood floor, the lieutenant reached inside his overcoat and withdrew a set of orders. He handed them over for Stiger to examine.

  “I see,” Stiger said, retrieving the orders, which were slightly damp. He glanced them over. The lieutenant and his troop of cavalry had been detached from their current patrol assignments and attached to Stiger’s command for the duration of the supply run to Vrell.

  “I understand that you requested us personally,” the lieutenant stated.

  “That’s right,” Stiger said, grabbing a mug on the table. He poured himself some tea from a pot that had long since cooled. At the time, Stiger had doubted that General Mammot would approve his request. Perhaps the general suspected that Stiger was reporting his activities to the senate. That might also explain the delivery of an original map instead of a camp copy. Mammot might be giving Stiger everything he requested to avoid any type of bad report. It was an intriguing line of thought. If true, Stiger wondered what else he might request.

  “May I ask why? There are other cavalry troops in the encampment.”

  “I know you,” Stiger said simply, taking a slow sip. “I do not know the other troop commanders. Your men respect you, which in my experience speaks well. I also think you show promise.”

  “I see, sir,” the lieutenant said, without betraying any emotion.

  “Did the general inform you of our mission?” Stiger asked.

  “No sir,” the lieutenant answered. “I did not actually speak with the general himself. Captain Handi delivered my orders.”

  Stiger simply nodded, satisfied that the mission was still a secret. If the rebels found out what they were up to, things might get ugly.

  “However, sir,” the lieutenant added after a moment, “I must admit … word around the encampment is that your company has been tasked with escorting the next supply train to Castle Vrell and opening that road.”

  Stiger slammed a fist down on the table in irritation and the lieutenant jumped slightly. If word had gotten around the encampment, then it was likely the rebels knew as well. Damn!

  “That is correct,” Stiger said after a moment, getting himself under control. “What do you know of the road to Vrell?”

  “A solid road,” the lieutenant reported. “It was repaired a few years ago by imperial engineers. A wagon train should have no real problem, but …”

  “But what?” Stiger asked as the lieutenant trailed off.

  “It is not a particularly safe road. It is heavily forested, with plenty of places to hide,” the lieutenant explained. “I was on the last supply run about six months ago. We took an entire company of cavalry to ensure the train made it.”

  “Did you?” Stiger asked, leaning forward. Here was his man with direct personal experience of the road to Vrell and the castle. Stiger had requested an interview with someone who knew the land. General Mammot had delivered once again. Interesting.

  “Yes, though at the cost of ninety men,” the lieutenant said with some anger heating his voice.

  “How many rebels were killed in exchange?” Stiger asked.

  “That we know of,” Lan answered, hesitating slightly. “We were only able to locate two bodies.”

  “Two?” Stiger asked with some surprise.

  “Yes,” the lieutenant answered. “The rebels hid like cowards, ambushing the column with archers and then melting back into the trees.”

  Stiger’s eyes narrowed. “So there were no standup fights? Only ambushes?”

  “Correct,” the lieutenant answered grimly, with a worried look. “To be frank, I do not relish the idea of making the journey back to Vrell.”

  Stiger pushed himself back from the table, stood, and began pacing the room, thinking furiously. The road was mostly forested. A handful of good men could have made life hell for a slow moving supply train escorted exclusively by cavalry. Stiger had seen it done in the forests of Abath. He looked back at the map. A small force. It had to be a small force. He was more convinced of that than ever. Had the rebels had a substantial force, they would have easily taken the train after having whittled down the escort.

  Stiger stopped pacing and glanced over at the lieutenant as a thought occurred to him. The lieutenant’s troop had been one of the few noticeably active units he had seen in the south. Studying the young man, who shifted uncomfortably under his steel-eyed gaze, Stiger suddenly knew with certainty that the lieutenant was out of favor. Mammot had not given him this troop from the goodness of his heart. The lieutenant was active because they had been pulling all of the shit assignments. General Mammot had probably jumped at the opportunity to rid himself of another trouble officer.

  “Lieutenant,” Stiger said abruptly. “I’ve noticed your men and animals are always clean. Why is that the case when everyone else in the encampment appears to be covered in mud and shit?”

  “I insist my men care for themselves and their mounts,” the lieutenant stated firmly, and then added, “It also helps that we are stationed at a small village two miles from the encampment.”

  “Exiled?” Stiger asked, knowing the answer even before the lieutenant confirmed with a curt nod. They had thought to isolate Lan from camp society as punishment, but in doing so had inadvertently spared him and his men from the rot and disease.

  “The condition of the men in the main encampment offends m
e,” the lieutenant admitted after a moment’s silence. “I said as much. It was …”

  “No matter,” Stiger waved a hand dismissively, cutting the lieutenant off.

  “You don’t care what I …”

  “It only speaks well of you,” Stiger said. He went to the door.

  “Corporal?” Stiger called across the rain-drenched farmyard.

  “Yes sir?” Corporal Kennet hustled over. The rain was coming down even more heavily, if that was possible.

  “When Lieutenant Eli’Far returns, I would like to see him. He is due sometime this evening. Also send for Lieutenant Ikely.”

  The corporal saluted and left.

  “Make sure your men are settled,” Stiger addressed Lan, returning to the table. He sat. “Get yourself dry, fed, and rested. We will have an officer’s council tonight. You will tell me everything you know about the road to Vrell, what you noticed and experienced. Anything and everything.”

  “Of course, sir,” the lieutenant nodded, eyes troubled. The captain knew what the man was thinking. The thought of riding that road again scared him badly.

  “Lieutenant,” Stiger said. “I cut my teeth in the forests of Abath. We have good scouts and an elven ranger, giving us a huge advantage. It will not be an easy task, but I am confident that we can teach these rebels a lesson they will not soon forget.” Stiger looked back down at the map. He had not just survived the forests of Abath, he had made them his own. He doubted that there was a better commander in the South suited to their current mission. Forest fighting was Stiger’s specialty, and besides, he had Eli.

  “Yes sir,” the lieutenant said, still looking concerned.

  “Now go see to your men,” Stiger ordered without looking up. “And make sure you get something hot to eat.”

  The lieutenant stood, saluted and left.

  “Sir?” Lieutenant Ikely asked, stepping inside a few moments later. He was moderately dry, having made the run from his tent to the farmhouse.

  “Lieutenant Lan and his troop have been assigned to us. HelpH them get settled and make sure they have everything they require. This evening, after Eli returns, we will have an officer’s council.”

  The lieutenant nodded.

  “Also, pass the word on to Cook. Have him prepare one week’s cooked rations for the scouts,” Stiger ordered. “They will be going out in the morning, along with Eli.”

  “Yes sir,” the lieutenant said clearly, surprised at the news.

  ***

  “It was a difficult time,” a somber Lan finished up. Stiger, like his lieutenants, stood at the table, a fire crackling in the hearth. The rain continued unabated, drumming steadily on the roof. The fire provided the room with abundant warmth.

  As the cavalry officer had talked through the nightmare that had been the last supply train to Castle Vrell, both Stiger and Eli questioned everything from the road to the density of the forest, to the variety of trees and ground cover. They also asked about the types of arrows and bows the enemy used, how they fought, how the cavalry responded, and on and on. The lieutenant was exhausted from both the telling and the detailed questioning.

  “Supposing most of the forest is old hardwood,” Eli spoke up after a brief silence, “then I believe we can expect the rebels to ambush us at points where there are younger trees and an abundance of undergrowth. I would assume these sites specifically to be located around the remains of any human settlements.”

  “Agreed,” Stiger said, feeling somewhat relieved after having heard the lieutenant out. He looked over at Eli, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “I would think you should not have too much difficulty locating the rebel camps.”

  “Sir,” Lieutenant Lan spoke up, confused. “How can one company and a troop of cavalry hope to deal with the rebels in that forest?”

  “I believe that the last train encountered only a handful of rebels,” Stiger answered matter-of-factly.

  “That simply cannot be,” the lieutenant protested, appalled at the thought. “A handful of men … do you really think so? I just can’t believe that …”

  “In the forests of Abath, ten to twenty men armed with bows would seem like an army,” Stiger said and then gestured to the map. “Look at the terrain. Mountains between the forest and rebel strongholds to the south. Simply put, the rebels are too far from their supply base, and the physical obstacles are just too great to field more than a few men. They are living off the land. I would bet my pension.”

  “A handful of men caused us that much grief?” Lan breathed, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Eli and I have done the same,” Stiger explained. “I would be surprised if they have more than thirty or forty men operating along the entire road. Supply trains are slow by nature. They could easily have taken advantage of the pace, ambushing the column at carefully selected points.”

  “It cannot be so,” Lan insisted, shaking his head.

  “Look,” Stiger said, “had the force been large, don’t you think they would have whittled you down and then taken the train by force? They didn’t, so it stands to reason they did not have the strength to do so.”

  “As you say, there should be no difficulty in locating their camps,” Eli said, bringing the conversation back on track. He was looking thoughtfully at the map spread out on the table. “I suppose they would have to be camped quite close to the road to keep it effectively cut.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Stiger agreed, turning back to the map. “If we are lucky, we may be able to catch them by surprise, eliminating one camp at a time.”

  “And if we are unlucky?” Lieutenant Ikely asked, looking up from the map.

  “Then the captain is wrong, and we run into a large number of rebels,” Eli said. “And Castle Vrell is in their hands.”

  “Eli.” Stiger looked meaningfully at his friend. “I received word today that the wagon train has arrived at the main encampment and should be ready to depart in two days. Tonight, I want you and your scouts to deal with our rebel friends. I would prefer to deliver a ‘live’ rebel to General Mammot for interrogation.”

  “It will be as you ask,” Eli said.

  “What are you talking about?” Lan asked, eyebrows raised. “There is not a rebel within twenty miles.”

  “We have identified several rebel observation posts in the hills around the main encampment,” Stiger answered, with a gesture toward Eli. “Once removed, with a little luck, we can be on the road before the rebels realize we have departed or discover that they have lost their eyes.”

  Lieutenant Lan said nothing, though he blushed furiously at the thought that he and his men had missed something this important. They had been patrolling for months now, and had seen no signs of the enemy.

  “Eli,” Stiger continued, “I have ordered a week’s worth of rations cooked for you and your scouts. Once the observation posts have been dealt with, set out. I want the rebel camps located long before the company arrives. Kindly stay in contact with our main body. You know what I expect.”

  Eli nodded in understanding, but said nothing. It was an old dance between them, and he indeed knew what the captain expected of him and his men.

  “Once we discover the locations of the enemy camps,” Stiger growled, “we will eliminate them as we come upon them, taking care to let no one escape. I trust we will make the journey with a lot less grief than the previous supply train encountered.”

  “Should we discontinue training?” Lieutenant Ikely asked. “Have the men begin preparing for the road?”

  “Yes,” Stiger responded after a second’s thought. “I want all gear inspected and ready. Anything that needs to be replaced, from sandals to cookware, must get done before we depart.”

  There was a knock at the open door. Everyone turned at the interruption.

  “Sir,” Corporal Kennet ventured tentatively. He was new to his role and disrupting an officer’s council made him more than a little nervous. “Rider coming in, sir.”

  Stiger glanced over at Eli, who looked
back. They were both thinking the same thing: trouble. For only trouble could bring a messenger out into the black of night with the heavens pouring out sheets of cold rain.

  “Thank you,” Stiger said. Corporal Kennet left as the captain turned back to Ikely. “I want three days cooked rations prepared for the men. Make it extremely clear that eating their rations straight off will not be tolerated. I have known legionaries who felt that rations were more easily carried in their stomachs than on their shoulders.”

  “Yes sir.” Ikely chuckled at the comment. “I will impress it upon them.”

  “Most of the company,” Stiger emphasized, looking around at those gathered, “are going to be marching hard and ahead of the train.”

  “We are going to leave the train lightly guarded?” Ikely asked, astonished at the thought.

  “Not completely,” Stiger admitted. “I will leave two files and the cavalry to guard the wagons. The bulk of the company, however, will march hard, pushing ahead to deal with the rebel camps. The plan is simple. Our scouts will locate the enemy camps and each will be dealt with as the main body comes up. Speed, shock and surprise will be our main weapons. With luck, the rebels should never get close to the train.”

  “Sir,” Lan protested. He was none too pleased at being left behind to nursemaid teamsters. “I would like to request the honor of joining the main body.”

  “I know how you feel,” Stiger said with a trace of a frown. He wanted to give the lieutenant his wish; however, he could not. Lan’s men were still an unknown factor, whereas Stiger’s men were not, having been worked hard these past few weeks. “The terrain where the enemy will have camped will be more suited to infantry. Besides … I don’t want to risk losing a few of your men or your horses needlessly. We may need your troop at a later time.”

  “I understand, sir,” Lan said, disappointed. He would accept his commanding officer’s wishes without complaint. Stiger was impressed at this display of control.