Stiger frowned, studying the trees carefully. Eyes widening, he realized the trees Eli indicated were indeed slightly slimmer. The bark also had a different hue and appearance than the older trees just a few feet away. It was so obvious he was surprised he had missed it. Then again, they had been moving hard and fast.
“I believe these were intentionally planted,” Eli continued. “In another thirty or forty years, it would have been much more difficult to spot the telltale signs. The roadside embankments were also leveled. They did not do such a good job at that. If you look closely in some places, you can see remains of the embankments.”
“You are saying someone intentionally destroyed the road?” Father Thomas asked, intrigued.
“I am.” Eli flashed a quick smile full of needle-sharp teeth. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to remove any evidence this road ever existed.”
“How did you manage to find this, sir?” Legionary Starnes ventured to ask, amazed.
“I have spent many years in the forests of my homeland,” Eli explained, as if it should be common knowledge. “We are an old people, and reading the history of the land becomes second nature; almost instinctual, if you will.”
“Reading the history of the land?” Starnes asked, confused. He could not read, but knew others marked symbols on parchment and stone that meant something.
“Eli,” Stiger interrupted. His friend was never shy about explaining the abilities of his people when given the opportunity. The last of the elder races, elves considered themselves superior in every way and never hesitated to say so. “Where did the road go?”
Eli pointed in the direction they had just come. “It travels right back to the road to Vrell, surprisingly running through the destroyed village and bandit camp.”
“Who would destroy a road?” Stiger asked, baffled.
“That’s a very good question,” Father Thomas said with genuine interest. “I am pleased I came along. I find such mysteries fascinating.”
“Judging by the height of these trees,” Stiger said, looking up at the canopy, “the destruction of the road must have been completed … what … over a hundred years ago?”
“More like one hundred and fifty,” Eli supplied, flashing another one of his clever smiles as he affectionately patted the tree again. “These are old fellows, but the others are much older. This forest is ancient. If I had time, I would welcome the opportunity to listen to its voice.”
“There is no time for that,” Stiger asserted, knowing what was involved with such a communion. Elves were tied to the land in ways a human could never fully appreciate. The captain could ill afford to lose Eli for a week or two.
“I know,” Eli sighed deeply. “She has been calling to me …”
“Why go to all that effort?” Stiger asked, looking back at Eli. “What are they trying to hide?”
“Climb to the top of the hill with me and have a look on the other side,” Eli said with another self-satisfied smirk. He pointed to the top of the hill. Stiger frowned. His friend was really enjoying himself.
Father Thomas and the legionaries looked at Stiger for a moment and then scrambled forward up the steep rise of the hill. The captain followed, just as eager to see what Eli had found. The crest of the hill was, in reality, a ridge overlooking a small tree-choked valley, which dropped out steeply beneath them.
A road abruptly emerged before them and traveled down into the heart of the valley. Whoever had destroyed the road had stopped at the crest.
But that wasn’t the most amazing thing that greeted the small party. A massive white marble building dominated the center of the valley. It reached toward the sky, almost stretching to the surrounding ridges. The structure spoke of magnificence and power. Stiger felt it looked very similar to one of the grand temples in Mel’Zeel, the capitol of the empire. Oddly, the building had a very imperial look to it, but at the same time something spoke of a different origin.
“Very unexpected,” Father Thomas breathed in awe as the sun broke free of a cloud and illuminated the building in all of its magnificence. “I say this is terribly unexpected.”
“I thought so as well,” Eli admitted. Stiger felt that was an understatement. To build something so majestic in such a remote location was an impressive feat, he thought.
“Is anyone down there?” Stiger asked, looking for any signs of life in the tree-choked valley. Through the canopy of leaves, he could see no other buildings or smoke that would indicate someone had a fire going. Smoke was an ever-present sign of settlement or civilization.
“The valley is not settled,” Eli stated firmly. “No one lives here.”
“Someone,” Stiger said, marveling at what Eli had discovered, “went to a lot of work to hide this valley. What is so important that they would build this here?”
“Allow me show you,” Eli said, leading them quickly down the ridge and stepping onto the road. The others followed him. The clay-based road was in surprisingly good shape for its age, and in a few minutes brought the small party down into the heart of the valley.
“Who built this?” Stiger asked in awe as they approached the massive structure, which seemed to grow taller and more imposing the closer they got.
“Dwarves,” Eli answered lightly, flashing another one of his devious smiles. “And I think perhaps humans helped.”
“Dwarves?” Stiger stopped in his tracks, shocked by the statement. Had he heard his friend right? Dwarves were mythical creatures; a race of legend and tale. Like gnomes, they simply did not exist.
“I assure you, dwarves are very real,” Eli replied, stopping also, a twinkle in his eye as he winked at his friend.
“They are?” Legionary James asked in astonishment. “My mother used to tell us stories …”
“Of course,” Eli responded and started walking again.
“How do you know?” James asked, brow furrowed, as he followed. Stiger started moving as well.
“Many years ago, I saw several,” Eli offered, leaving Stiger and Father Thomas to share a startled glance. The legionaries looked to Stiger for confirmation. Stiger shrugged.
As they neared the building, the forest fell back, revealing a series of gardens, composed of wild plants, which ran around the building. The gardens looked maintained and not overgrown, as would have been expected. The road led through the gardens to the building. Hundreds of marble steps led upward to a grand set of double doors. Everything about the structure was imposing, impressive and magnificent. The party stood, looking up in awe, feeling very small.
“This looks like the Temple of Hirya in the capitol,” Father Thomas said in a hushed tone. Hirya was the daughter of the God of War, and dedicated to healing.
“It does,” Stiger agreed. As a child he had gone to the temple to make regular devotions with his father. The building was very similar. Many thousands of workers would have been required to erect this, he realized. Where had they come from? Where had they gone? Stiger knew he was missing something important. Then a thought occurred to him.
“Eli, I thought you said there was no one in the valley?”
“As far as I can determine, there is no one about,” Eli confirmed.
“Then,” Stiger asked, pointing about, “who maintains these gardens?”
“That is an interesting question,” Eli responded. “Who indeed?”
“What lies inside?” Father Thomas asked, looking up the great row of steps leading up to the sealed doors.
“That is what the captain must see,” Eli stated firmly. The elf stepped forward and placed a foot on the first step. He looked over meaningfully at Stiger, as if daring him to follow, and then turned, beginning the steep climb. Stiger watched his enigmatic friend for a moment before Father Thomas caught his eye. The paladin began to follow Eli. Sighing, Stiger began the long climb, his legionaries following a few steps behind.
The doors to the entrance were massive. There were no hinges on the outside, which meant that they opened inward. They were constructed of a he
avy, steel-plated shod, that had a dull, ancient look. There was writing on the door in a script that Stiger had never seen before.
“Dwarvish,” Eli announced, noticing the captain’s look. “And yes, I am sure.”
“I don’t suppose you can read it?” the paladin asked hopefully.
“I can,” Eli admitted, with a slight trace of smugness.
“However did you learn Dwarvish?” Father Thomas asked curiously.
“He likely found himself bored to tears one day and decided it was time to learn something new,” Stiger said before Eli could manage an answer. “Elves have a lot of time on their hands. Am I incorrect?”
“Close enough,” Eli admitted.
“Well?” Stiger asked, a little impatiently, when Eli said nothing further. “What does it say?”
“Unity, Honor and Friendship,” Eli read rather dramatically.
“That is a little cryptic,” Stiger growled, frowning. “Don’t you think?”
Eli offered another of his devious little smiles. He leaned forward and pushed on one of the doors. Silently, as if freshly oiled, the door swung inward. A dark corridor, seemingly cut right into the stone, greeted them. Sconces lined the walls every few feet and disappeared into the darkness of the building. Eli stepped forward, and with a startling suddenness, the sconces flared to life, bathing the corridor in light.
“Magic,” one of the legionaries breathed, taking a step backward and making the holy sign of the High Father.
“Indeed,” Father Thomas agreed, looking rather impressed. Magic was rare. It was extremely unusual to find a wizard who was willing to use his craft for something as mundane as providing magical lighting.
“This way,” Eli said, turning back to them briefly before starting off down the corridor. True magic was extremely expensive, as it was hard to find a mage willing to sell his services. It was rare to see magic used in such a manner.
Eli turned, beckoning the party forward. Stiger followed, knowing that if there had been anything to fear Eli would have said something. Father Thomas moved forward next, with the legionaries bringing up the rear, muttering prayers to their various gods.
Eli led them through the corridor, which looked completely dust-free to Stiger, though the building had an old feel to it. The party emerged into a grand, rectangular-shaped room typical of the important temples in the capitol, designed to shock and amaze at the same time. Two massive rows of majestic white marble columns, at least six feet wide at the base, reached upward to the ceiling sixty feet above. Between the two rows of columns lay a rich blue carpet that stretched out the length of the incredible room. Great, intricate metal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. These blazed with a whitish magical light that bathed the interior and accentuated the polished white marble columns and stone walls. The magic lighting drove back all shadows. Stiger was even startled to see that his shadow and those of his men were gone.
The group stood for a few moments, staring in awe at the grandeur of the room before them. The blue carpet led down to some kind of an altar at the far end of the room. Eli started down the carpet without a word or look back. Stiger and the others followed.
“Is that what I think it is?” Stiger asked when they were within a few feet of the altar, which he realized was actually a sarcophagus. Lying on the sarcophagus was a wooden pole with a golden eagle attached to the end of it. Next to the eagle was an imperial legionary sword sheathed in an ornate blue casing. The sword and golden eagle lay on top of a folded rich blue cloak. Blue cloaks were typically worn by legionary generals. The captain could not take his eyes off the eagle.
“This is most unexpected,” Father Thomas said, eying the captain carefully.
“An imperial eagle!” Legionary Starnes exclaimed excitedly. “There is a 13 stamped on it!”
“The Vanished!” Legionary Beck breathed in awe. “Sir … you have found the 13th Legion!”
Stiger shook his head in disbelief. He could not believe what was before him. In his wildest dreams he would never have imagined finding the lost legion’s eagle.
“Here lies the honorable General Delvaris,” Eli read from the strange Dwarvish writing etched into the side of the sarcophagus. Stiger had not noticed it until Eli began reading. There was an etching of legionaries fighting alongside a group of short, squat people with long braided beards. “This tomb stands in memorial, as a place of honor to the legionaries of 13th Legion, who fought alongside the Clans. The Ironbound Clan holds this imperial eagle in sacred trust, until such time as it can be returned. Only one of sufficient blood may retrieve and return the legion’s honor.”
“I must admit this little trip to Vrell has really gotten interesting,” Father Thomas said as he began walking around the sarcophagus.
“Interesting is not what I would call it.” Stiger was having trouble catching his breath. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest.
“There is some type of trunk back here,” Father Thomas announced. Stiger forced himself to look away from the eagle and walked around to join the paladin on the other side of the sarcophagus. Sure enough, a large oak chest was nestled against the base. From the other side, it had been hidden from view.
Stiger stepped forward and bent, sliding the latch slowly back on the trunk. As he did so, he felt a funny tingle run up his arms. It happened so quickly, Stiger was unsure it had occurred at all. He opened the trunk, revealing an engraved set of armor inside. The armor gleamed as if it had been freshly polished that very morning. It had an archaic look to it, which Stiger had seen before. Every imperial family of standing had a room in their house completely dedicated to honoring their ancestors. Such rooms told the history and prestige of the family. Many included wax death masks and personal items such as swords or sets of armor that important ancestors had once used. Stiger stood and backed up, looking down at the armor in the chest. He had no doubt as to whom the armor belonged. His own family’s ancestor room held nothing for General Delvaris. Stiger had the distinct feeling that was about to change.
Legionary Beck moved forward for a look. There was suddenly a deep hum that reverberated angrily through the air. The legionary got a strained look on his face, began to sweat and rapidly backed away, breathing heavily. The hum immediately ceased.
“I would not attempt that again,” Father Thomas offered casually. “It would seem that the chest and the items on the sarcophagus are magically warded.”
“Gods that hurt,” Legionary Beck breathed in relief. “I had a feeling that if I went further it would have killed me.”
“I suspect that it would have,” Father Thomas said matter-of-factly. “There is a very good chance that had you taken another step or two …”
“Then how did the captain get close enough to touch it?” the legionary asked. He was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. His face had turned a ghostly white.
“The captain has the right blood, of course,” Eli pointed out. Stiger snapped a dark look at his friend.
“Only one of sufficient blood may retrieve the legion’s honor,” Father Thomas repeated, looking over at the captain. “Might you be related by blood to General Delvaris?”
Stiger nodded and turned his gaze back to the set of armor resting in the trunk. Every child by noble birth learned his own family history at an early age. It was drilled into him until he could recite it by memory. Stiger was no different. He could recite and retell his family history going back to the founding of the empire. There had been nothing in the ancestor’s room from General Delvaris, but that had not stopped the instructors from drilling the general’s story into him. Up until a few moments ago, his great great grandfather, Ut’Hule Delvaris, had been a stain upon his family’s honor. Now he was not so sure.
Glancing around at the monument erected on behalf of the 13th, Stiger was beginning to suspect that his long deceased relative had achieved something noble and of great import. What that was he had no idea.
“The gods move in mysteriou
s ways,” Father Thomas spoke. “As I am called to serve, I feel confident you were called here for a purpose.”
Stiger met the paladin’s gaze and nodded soberly. He could not deny the paladin’s words. It was rare for an officer to be transferred from one legion to another, and yet that was what had occurred. Not for the first time, Stiger considered that providence had a guiding influence on his life.
The captain looked around the interior of the monument. He could not see any additional writing, signs, etchings or engravings. He wanted to know what the 13th and his ancestor had done to warrant such an honor.
“Do you have any idea what happened to the 13th?” he asked Eli.
“There is nothing else that I can find,” Eli admitted sadly. “Though I would hazard your relative and the legionaries of the 13th achieved something of intense importance for the dwarves to erect this monument in their honor. From what I know of the dwarves … it takes much to move them.”
“Then we take this with us,” Stiger said, gesturing toward the eagle, sword and chest. “It is time for the eagle to be returned to the emperor.”
With that, Stiger stepped up to the sarcophagus, which was nearly as tall as he was, and reached out, taking hold of the staff, on which the imperial eagle was mounted. As he had felt with the chest, that same funny tingle ran up his arms. Again, it happened so quickly, Stiger was unsure it had occurred at all. Holding the staff firmly with both hands, he lifted it up into the air. There was a sudden flash of intense white light around the eagle, followed by what sounded like a bell ringing throughout the monument. Stunned, Stiger stepped back, his eyes fixated upon the eagle held aloft. After a moment, he looked over at Eli, questioning.
“The ward has been broken,” Eli said simply. “I believe anyone can now touch those items.”
Stiger looked up the staff once again at the eagle. Each legion was personally presented one by the emperor himself. An eagle represented the collective honor of the legion and that of the empire. There were currently twenty-two legions in the empire, which meant there were only twenty-two eagles. Without knowing her fate, the 13th had not been officially disbanded, just simply listed as “Vanished” and struck from the rolls, though her eagle was still listed among the twenty-two in the field. It was a convenient way for both the emperor and empire to not lose face. No matter what the status of the 13th had been, while the eagle was still held, the 13th lived. Well, lived again, Stiger corrected his thinking. After their mission to Vrell, the eagle would be returned to the emperor. At that point, the emperor would decide the 13th’s ultimate fate. Without more to the story, Stiger suspected General Delvaris would remain disgraced, but at least the stain upon the family would be lessened. Perhaps it might even be enhanced by the mystery, Stiger mused.
Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) Page 18
