“No doubt,” Lieutenant Ikely said. The lieutenant was whittling down a piece of wood. It was something he did in the evenings to pass the time. He made little figurines of the gods. Oddly, he never took them with him, instead leaving them behind where he had spent the night. The figurines were highly prized by the men, and in the morning someone was always lurking, ready to scoop them up.
All legionaries were superstitious. It was the nature of the business they were in. One just could not afford to ignore the gods, which could prove unhealthy in their line of work. Stiger suspected that each man would have at least one figurine by the time the company returned from Vrell.
“Three imperial-issued saddles,” the sergeant continued, “and a variety of coinage, estimated to be worth around sixteen gold imperial talons. The rest of what we seized is garbage. These animals did not take care of much. That concludes my report, sir.”
“Sergeant, make sure that the coinage remains under the guard of a corporal till the supply train arrives,” Stiger ordered. “Set aside the customary amount for the general legion fund. Half of the remainder will be applied to the men’s pensions, the other half will be distributed according to custom amongst the sergeants and officers. It is all to be deposited into the strong box.”
“I will, sir,” Ranl said, making a note in his pad. The sergeant had known officers who would have simply kept the money for themselves. All legionaries took their pensions very seriously. The men would be pleased when they discovered the captain had contributed to their pensions.
“Lieutenant,” Stiger turned to Ikely, “I want you to choose five reliable men to remain here with the captured supplies until the train arrives.”
“I will make sure to stress that they keep a close watch,” the lieutenant replied, “in the event this band had friends nearby.”
“Good,” Stiger responded, with a satisfied nod. It was unlikely these rebels had any friends about. Eli would have found evidence if there were. “Let the men sleep in and rest a little tomorrow morning. They deserve it. The company will march out around noon. Eli, myself and Father Thomas will depart at first light. We will meet up with you at some point during the next day.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Ikely asked, concerned. He did not like the idea of the captain leaving the column. The lieutenant knew that Eli had discovered something and wanted the captain to have a look at it. It was not uncommon for commanding officers to accompany scouts in studying enemy positions; however, no one had any idea where the captain was going.
“We will only be gone one night,” Stiger reassured him. “I will have written orders for you in the morning.”
“Messenger coming in, sir!” Corporal Kennet shouted from across the camp. Stiger looked over and saw one of Lan’s troopers being escorted in. The messenger spotted the captain by the fire. He dismounted, secured his horse to a tree, and then walked a little stiffly over to the captain. The man was dusty and weary. He had ridden hard to get here, and in the dark that was a dangerous thing. He saluted fist to chest. Stiger remained seated, taking another pull on his pipe as he nodded in reply.
“Lieutenant Lan’s compliments, sir,” the messenger reported. “He would like to congratulate you on your victory over the rebels. He also reports the wagon train has made camp for the evening about six hours hard ride back.” Stiger nodded, pleased. That meant the train was about a day and a half behind them, maybe slightly more. The train was making excellent time. The trooper drew out a dispatch from the lieutenant and handed it over. Stiger pocketed it. He would read it later.
“Any trouble?” Stiger asked, looking up at the trooper.
“It has been a tad boring, sir … though there was one little incident,” the trooper reported with a chuckle. “Sergeant Arnold protested a bit too much at the pace and threatened to go no further until a break was called. The lieutenant proposed taking his wagons and leaving the sergeant to walk back.”
Those around the fire chuckled, amused at the thought.
“I take it the sergeant became much more manageable after that?”
“Very, sir,” the trooper responded. “He decided it was safer to be escorted than alone in a rebel-infested forest. He said as much he did.”
“Very sensible of him,” Lieutenant Ikely remarked wryly. “No more complaints after that?”
“No sir,” the trooper reported.
“I have written out a report of the fight here and our progress,” Stiger said, reaching into a pocket. He pulled out the sealed dispatch and handed it over to the trooper. “Have Lieutenant Lan send a messenger back to General Kromen with this.”
“Yes sir,” the trooper said, accepting the dispatch.
“See Cook. Get yourself something to eat and bed down for the night,” Stiger added. The trooper was dead-tired and looked about ready to drop. “You can ride out in the morning.”
“Thank you, sir,” the trooper said, greatly relieved. He was almost afraid the captain might have wanted him to head back immediately. He saluted before stepping away for some grub.
Stiger took a slow pull and puff on his pipe. He stared off into the fire, lost in his thoughts.
“If you will excuse me, sir,” Sergeant Ranl said, standing. “It is getting late and I need to check on the men.”
The captain said nothing, but gave a curt nod to the sergeant. Both officers watched the sergeant leave. Once he was out of earshot, the lieutenant looked over at his captain.
“I would feel more comfortable if you took a few men with you tomorrow,” the lieutenant said cautiously. He was still getting to know his captain, and was finding it difficult to firmly state his feelings. The captain was an intimidating man.
“You would,” Stiger said, letting a puff of smoke escape and casting a glance at his lieutenant.
“I would,” Ikely said firmly. He had resolved himself to insist upon this.
The captain returned his gaze to the fire and was silent for several moments as he considered. Stiger noted the resolved look. His lieutenant was right. He should take more men … although, he would be in the presence of an elven ranger and a paladin of the High Father.
“I will take four men with me,” Stiger finally said, giving in. “Make sure they are good men. If I know Eli, we will be moving fast through the forest, and they will need to keep up.”
“I will, sir.” The lieutenant was relieved. He already knew whom he would send.
Stiger clamped his pipe in his teeth and stood, stretching his sore muscles. Lieutenant Ikely stood as well.
“I think we should see what Cook has rustled up for dinner,” Stiger suggested, hoping it was something better than warmed up salt pork.
***
“So they are not rebels?” Stiger asked with obvious irritation. Cook had prepared some coffee, a rare treat, for the men this morning. Stiger took a sip from the cup he held, savoring the taste. It was a nice break from the tea that was more easily prepared and served.
“They are not,” Sergeant Ranl stated. Blake nodded in agreement. Blake looked tired. He and several corporals had spent a long night aggressively interrogating the prisoners. Lieutenant Ikely stood by Stiger, receiving the report at the captain’s fire. The sun would be up in less than an hour, and the morning air was clear and crisp. Stiger threw a couple of logs on the fire and stirred it up with a thick branch.
Father Thomas had also joined them, looking surprisingly fresh, as if he had just climbed out of a comfortable bed. He was having coffee too, and seemed to be enjoying the treat.
“This group were bandits,” Blake added tiredly, “but it seems they did have some contact with the rebels.”
Stiger raised an eyebrow at this and took a sip of his coffee, which steamed in the cool morning air. He wished they had sugar, but in the field that was a luxury they could not afford. He took another sip. After a night of sleeping on the cold hard ground, the warmth of the coffee felt good.
“It appears a small force of rebels came over the mountains to the sout
h a few months back,” Blake explained, “probably around the time of the last supply train. A deal was struck with the leader of this band. As long as they ambushed any imperials on the road, the rebels would leave them alone.”
“And if they messed with the rebels?” Ikely asked.
“The rebels made it clear that would not have been a wise move,” Ranl said. “A few examples were made in advance to ward off any trouble. The rebels had some type of holy man with them. He was the one who made the examples. Apparently, it was not pretty.”
“What kind of holy man?” Father Thomas asked. Stiger looked over at the paladin, wondering the same.
“This bunch is more ignorant than our average recruit. They did not know, and the rebels did not say,” Blake explained. “They were pretty impressed. Apparently he was fond of a ceremonial knife.”
“A black priest of some kind, then,” Father Thomas said, looking over at the captain. “Sacrifices, I would hazard.”
Stiger said nothing at that, but instead looked down at his feet. The memories of what they had run into with Father Griggs were still too fresh … too raw.
“The rebels left them some arms and supplies,” Blake added, wanting to change the direction of the conversation as well. The last thing any legionary wished to discuss were the dark gods. “They then left.”
“Where to?” Stiger asked, hopeful, but knowing the bandits in all probability had no idea as to where the rebels went.
“It is hard to tell for sure,” Blake admitted, scratching his stubbly jaw. “They seem to think the rebels went back over the mountains to the south. The bandits were left with the impression that the rebels would soon return with a much larger force to take Vrell, but they didn’t know when.”
Stiger did not like the sound of that, either. Having to potentially confront a black priest was bad enough. Although perhaps that was why Father Thomas had been called?
“The bandit leader … did he survive?” Ikely asked.
“He did not,” Blake answered. “He was killed in the assault.”
“Any word on what to expect at Vrell?” Stiger asked, changing the subject.
“This band did not wander too far from this area,” Sergeant Blake said. “They seem pretty ignorant of Vrell itself. None we interrogated had ever been there. They did intercept several messengers from the castle.”
“Is it too much to hope that the dispatches survived?” Stiger scowled, suspecting the answer.
“I am afraid so, sir,” Sergeant Ranl said. “The dispatches were used to start fires or wipe asses. They didn’t bother to question the messengers. Anyone who came along was ambushed and immediately killed for their valuables.”
Stiger frowned unhappily.
“Oh, and we did get the name of the leader of the rebel band,” Sergeant Blake spoke up. “A Captain Myeld.”
The name meant nothing to Stiger. It seemed probable the rebels had pushed a company over the mountains. Perhaps they were still in the area, perhaps not. It had likely been this band that had harassed the last supply train and then returned back over the mountains. With the legions blocking the main rebel army, it was likely the bandits were led to believe the rebels were returning in the hopes of encouraging the band to continue to harass any imperials they came across. With any luck, they took their dark priest with them and went south, back to rebel territory.
“Another thing, sir,” Blake said. “One of the fools mentioned another group of cutthroats staking out a territory up the road in the direction of Vrell. They had regular contact and occasionally traded. A few weeks back, this other group disappeared, as if they just up and walked off. Strangely they left all of their stuff, though.”
“Perhaps the rebels took care of them for us,” Lieutenant Ikely postulated.
“It is possible, sir,” Blake admitted, though he sounded skeptical.
“Nothing but a bandit camp.” Stiger spat in disgust, glancing around. The camp was in the process of being broken down. The spoils would be moved to the road for the supply train to better pick up when it arrived. The rest would be burned or abandoned. It mattered little to him what happened to the other band. They were one less problem he would have to contend with. In the end, all that mattered was getting the supply train to Vrell. If the rebels were still about … well then, Eli and the scouts would find them.
“What of the prisoners?” Sergeant Blake asked.
Stiger thought about it for a moment, looking over at the prisoners across the camp, who were under armed guard. There were twelve of them, sitting down, with their arms tied securely behind their backs. They were dirty and dressed in near rags. Stiger figured most had been local farmers at one time, at least until the legions had arrived to put down the rebellion. He had seen this cycle before. Men driven from their homes, wives raped and killed, farms burned … With nothing left, they had turned to banditry. If he took them along, he would have to feed and provide a guard for them.
The prisoners knew the penalty for banditry, which would mean he could reasonably expect an escape attempt. Such an attempt might put his legionaries at risk. Under such circumstances, taking them along to Vrell was not really an option. The prisoners were dead men and they knew it.
“Execute them,” he ordered, his voice sounding harsh in his own ears. “Organize a detail and get it done immediately.”
Ikely glanced uncomfortably at Father Thomas. The paladin said nothing, but looked on impassively. In fact, Father Thomas had expected such an order from the captain. The High Father allowed all men free will. No matter who they had been previously, the prisoners had chosen a life of banditry.
“Do you have anything to add, Father Thomas?” Stiger asked, having caught the lieutenant’s look.
“No, Captain,” Father Thomas said after a long moment. A sad expression crossed his face. “I do not.”
“These men killed legionaries and conspired with the enemy,” Stiger growled, addressing the sergeants and lieutenant. Stiger felt it was important that he was clear with them. “Whether and how we suspect they were driven to this life is irrelevant. They are bandits. There is one penalty for banditry, and that penalty is death. They either die here or at Vrell. They know this, and that makes them desperate. I will not risk any of my men to these animals, who will be looking for any chance to grab a weapon in a careless moment and escape their punishment. They die now and quick, which is better than the scum deserve.”
“Yes sir,” Sergeant Ranl said, having heard enough. He stood, as did Blake. He was in complete agreement with his captain and saluted sharply. “I will see to the detail myself.”
Sergeant Ranl turned and with Blake following, walked off in the direction of the prisoners, leaving Stiger alone with Lieutenant Ikely and Father Thomas. Stiger watched them go. He hated having to order executions. It was something that had to be done. There were no regrets. Their ghosts would not be visiting him during lonely moments. The prisoners meant nothing to him. These men had more than earned their fate, and he hoped they burned for it.
“Would you mind if I hear their sins and provide last rites to the condemned?” Father Thomas asked after a moment’s silence.
“If you wish to ease their transition to the next world,” Stiger said quietly, with a shrug, “I have no objection.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Father Thomas said, clapping a comforting hand on Stiger’s shoulder as he stood. “I suspect, at heart, that you are a good man.”
Stiger frowned, watching the paladin walk away in the direction of the prisoners. He looked over at Ikely, who was smiling stupidly at his captain.
“Shouldn’t you be seeing to the captured supplies and equipment?” Stiger growled.
“Uh … yes sir.” Lieutenant Ikely stood, smile still plastered on his face.
Stiger was left alone with his thoughts. His duty was not always pleasant. As a legionary captain and a Stiger, he had a responsibility to the empire. Sentiment was rarely a consideration. Turning away from the prisoners, the cap
tain looked in the direction of the road and wondered what exactly was waiting for them at Castle Vrell.
Thirteen
“Believe it or not, at one time a road ran through here,” Eli announced, having abruptly stopped. They had left the camp almost five hours before, heading deep into the forest. The trees were old, nearly all hard woods that grew extremely tall, aspiring ever skyward to catch as much sunlight as possible. The canopy of leaves far above their heads was so thick, very little direct sunlight ever reached the forest floor, which was covered with the previous season’s leaves and thick carpets of green moss. Stiger stopped and looked up. They had been following the elf up a very steep hill and had been moving at a good pace. In fact, for the past hour the elf had been leading them from one hill to another, each one seemingly higher than the last. Eli had set a punishing pace and they were all winded. Like Father Thomas, the captain had left his horse behind.
“Really?” Father Thomas asked, having also stopped, with hands on his hips as he caught his breath. The paladin looked about, turning in a complete circle. He could discern no pattern in the forest that would indicate that there had ever been a road through here. “I don’t see it.”
Stiger studied the surrounding terrain carefully. He too could find nothing that suggested a road. It must have been a very old one, judging by how there was no longer any ready evidence of said road. The four legionaries accompanying them—James, Todd, Beck and Starnes—seemed just as baffled.
“This tree,” Eli said, and patted it affectionately as if it were an old friend. “This tree is much younger than any of the others eight feet that way. Imagine for a moment that where I am standing was once the roadside. If you look in the direction we are traveling, all of the trees in a direct line leading that way,” Eli pointed up the hill, “are younger and somewhat slimmer than the others further out into the forest. Look back and you will notice the same. The younger trees snake through the older ones.”
Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) Page 17
