The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Can I get you anything, master?” Venthus asked, raising his voice and slipping back into the role of his slave. He held open the flap to the tent, prepared to exit. “Some wine, perhaps? Food before your long journey?”

  “No,” Stiger said. “You have done more than enough. I will be only a few moments. You can return to your duties once I’ve gone.”

  “Very well, master.” With that, Venthus bowed and ducked out of the tent, letting the flap fall back into place and leaving Stiger alone with Taha’Leeth, Dog, and the pets.

  He moved toward the cot. As he knelt, Dog shifted aside for him. He reached out and took her hand in his. It was cold to the touch, clammy. Before, she had radiated heat, now …

  “Gods.”

  Despite what Venthus felt, he knew she could still die. That frightened him more than anything ever had. He suspected that without Currose’s assistance and intervention, Taha’Leeth would have expired and passed from this world. He owed the noctalum a debt he could never repay. Still, it might not have been enough.

  With his newfound longevity, he could potentially live centuries alone, without her. That in and of itself was a painful thought, a torment beyond imagining. He did not even want to consider it, knew he could not. She was truly his soulmate; he felt that with all his heart. They were meant to be together. She had to live … for without her, he could not.

  As if reading his thoughts, Dog gave a low whine and placed his shaggy head upon both of their hands.

  “I know, boy.” Stiger reached up with his free hand and rubbed the dog’s head. “Don’t I know it.”

  His gaze traveled back to Taha’Leeth’s face. Though exceedingly pale, he found her so beautiful his heart ached. Her red hair had been brushed straight and laid over her right shoulder. He wondered who had done it. Venthus? Currose? In the end, it did not matter. She was being looked after, cared for. Taha’Leeth was in good hands. When he left, he would take comfort in that. He had to.

  “I have to leave.” Stiger’s throat caught with the admission. He did not know if she could hear him, but he felt the need to explain anyway. “Gods, I don’t want to go, but I must. As incredible as it sounds, I am the emperor. I must go to secure my throne. Without the might of the empire, we will be unable to stop the confederacy and ultimately do what needs to be done. I also need to go to find the World Gate Key … wherever it is.” Stiger paused and, with some effort, cleared his throat. He felt the stinging prick of tears not yet fully formed. “While I am gone, Venthus and Currose will watch over you. They will care for you, help you get better.”

  He fell silent for several heartbeats, feeling intense frustration born of feeling helpless. It was in her hands now, not his …

  “By the High Father and Tanithe, live. Fight.” He gripped her hand in his, squeezing. “Don’t you dare think of crossing over the great river without me. Do you hear me, Taha’Leeth? Fight to live, damn you. Come back to me.”

  She did not respond or stir. There wasn’t even a flicker of her eyelids. Stiger’s heart almost broke at the lack of reaction. He bowed his head and offered up a silent prayer to the High Father, asking … begging for her speedy recovery. He felt a warming of his connection with his god, but not much more. That only added to his frustration, but he knew he had to have faith. He had to have faith in his god and hers.

  “Surely there must be a plan,” Stiger said aloud. He kept telling himself that. But … had the enemy ruined or damaged the plan? Stiger just did not know. That was the most frustrating part … not knowing. It was maddening.

  The tent flap was pulled aside. Stiger looked over as Eli entered. His friend let the flap fall back into place, and with it, once again the light inside the tent dimmed. Eli moved over to him. The elf’s expression, as he took in Taha’Leeth, was one of intense sadness and feeling. He placed a hand on Stiger’s shoulder.

  He and Eli had been through so much together, just having him here was a comfort. Stiger appreciated his presence. Eli was his best friend, someone he knew he could always count upon, who would be there for him when he needed it, just as Stiger would be there for him. Over the years they had supported each other and forged a strong bond between them, one that was unshakable.

  After a time, Eli broke the silence.

  “I know you do not wish to leave,” the elf said. “Were she my mate, I would not want to either. But, my friend, it is time. No matter how painful, we must both take our leave.”

  He was correct. Stiger did not want to go. Doing so felt like a betrayal. And yet, duty compelled him to depart. His duty to the empire and his god was a higher calling. With effort, Stiger separated his hand from hers and stood. He regarded Taha’Leeth for a prolonged moment before leaning forward and placing a kiss upon her forehead. Again, there was no response, no flicker of recognition.

  “Bloody gods.” His anger sparked, igniting its way toward a vengeful fury. Stiger clenched a fist. He felt like hitting something. Turning, he moved toward the tent flap, with Dog and Eli following. As he pulled the flap aside, he glanced back at his wife … one last time, soaking her in. His anger became terrible, almost a living thing.

  Rarokan had no part in feeding his rage, for that mad wizard was still locked within his prison and Stiger was unwilling to let him out. This rage was all Stiger, and with it, the High Father’s power within him surged slightly, the white fire burning bright. Without needing to search, he knew Venthus’s pets were stirring, edging away again. Stiger swore a silent oath to make the Cyphan pay for what they had done, Veers especially. That dark paladin would die by Stiger’s hand.

  With that last thought, he stepped out into the morning sunlight. His guard waited, as did Venthus. The slave had a strained look on his face. Stiger nodded once to Venthus, more an apology than anything else for upsetting the pets again, and then started down the street with a purpose. Eli and Dog followed. His guard trailed a few feet behind.

  Men who were up and about for whatever reason stepped aside, snapped to attention, and saluted as he passed. Stiger hardly noticed them. His mind was focused on what lay ahead. The empire came first, then the confederacy. He moved from one street to the next, until he came to a large, open field of trampled grass that had been set aside for drill.

  Two of the dragons that had come with the Vass waited. Both were lying down. They were massive creatures, but not as large as a noctalum. Still, Stiger found himself deeply impressed with their size. They were ferocious in their own right and at the same time fearsomely beautiful.

  Men were secured to their backs or were busy tying themselves and supplies down in preparation for flight. All wore heavy cloaks, for the dragons had told them it would soon become cold, frigid even, as they traveled northward, much faster than a horse ever could.

  Ruga’s entire century would be going with him. Stiger spotted Restus, Tiro, and Ruga amongst them, as well as Therik, who looked mightily uncomfortable. The orc was already strapped down. The centurion and sergeant were walking along the back of one of the dragons, checking each man to make sure they were secure.

  Stiger stopped and looked back at his personal guard. “Go see your centurion and find your places. Get yourselves situated.”

  “Yes, sir,” one of the men said. He offered Stiger a crisp salute. “Come on, boys, let’s get moving.”

  We are waiting on you, human. I hope you are ready.

  Stiger turned to look. It was Inex who had spoken in his mind, the dragon he would be riding. He started forward again. As he approached with Dog and Eli, the dragon’s great head lifted off the ground and swung around to look at him. There had been no accusation in the tone, just a statement of fact.

  “I had business to attend to,” Stiger said.

  I understand, human, the dragon said with sudden feeling … sympathy even. It caught Stiger off guard and took him a moment to recover from the sudden rush of emotion the creature had sent his way. We all wish your mate a swift recovery. Many of our kind have lost loved ones, mates, children �
�� in this long war. We understand what you are going through.

  “Thank you,” Stiger said as he came closer. “I appreciate your sentiment.”

  We suffer so that some future generation does not have to.

  Stiger thought that a fine way of looking at their struggle. He liked it.

  “To make the world a better place,” Stiger said.

  Yes, you understand correctly.

  Salt was waiting by the dragon’s massive side. The legate saluted him as he came up. Stiger returned the salute.

  “Your pack is secured above, sir.”

  “I will see you in a few weeks,” Stiger said. “Do you have any questions on your orders?”

  “No, sir,” Salt said. “The orders are clear and straightforward. Two days’ rest, then a hard march for Mal’Zeel. I am to follow General Treim’s orders as if they were your own.”

  “That sounds about right,” Stiger said. “If it comes to trouble or a fight, you can trust the general. I would ask that you put your faith in him. He is a superb tactician and leader. As difficult as it is to imagine, he has commanded more fights and battles than you and I combined. He’s a professional and knows what he’s about.”

  “Yes, sir,” Salt said. “I understand. No worries. He is in command. I am sure we will get on just fine, sir. We will be right as rain.”

  Pleased, Stiger gave a nod. “I expected no less. Look after Ikely and Severus for me and my wife.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good luck, sir. I will see you when we get to Mal’Zeel.”

  “You too.” Stiger gripped an armored scale. He began to pull himself up. Dog gave what sounded like a frustrated bark. He looked back and stopped in mid-climb. Stiger considered the animal for a long moment.

  “You want to come with me?” Stiger asked.

  Tail wagging, the big dog gave an enthusiastic bark.

  “Right then,” Stiger said. “Salt, get some men and rope, straps, whatever.” Stiger pointed toward Dog. “He will need to be lifted up and secured. See that he also has a blanket for added warmth.”

  Dog’s tail began wagging furiously, so much so, it shook his entire body. He gave a clipped bark.

  “Yes, sir.” Salt moved off, shouting at several men who were standing nearby, clearly waiting should assistance be required. Close on his heels, Dog followed after the legate. Stiger watched them as they crossed the field toward the men.

  In a way, leaving felt like he was closing the door on a chapter in his life. A new path lay ahead for him, almost a new beginning. Only Stiger did not know if he was ready for it. Yet he was prepared and resolved to boldly travel down that path. As he had always done, he would do whatever was required to see the job done and duty satisfied. There was no question in his mind about that.

  “Do you think the senate will be more impressed with your dog?” Eli asked with a smirk. He then gestured at Therik, who was mounted on the other dragon, a male named Tyven. “Or the orc?”

  That is no simple dog, Inex said, and I am already impressed.

  “They better be impressed with me,” Stiger growled. “For if they aren’t, by the time I am done, they will be.”

  With that, he continued pulling himself up the side of the dragon.

  Chapter Six

  Leaning over slightly, Stiger gazed out past the dragon’s extended left wing at the snow-blanketed land far below. The air was bitingly cold. It whistled and rushed around him, making his eyes water, blurring his vision slightly. With a gloved hand, he tugged his bearskin cloak tighter about his person and then made sure the scarf covering his face and ears was secure. He did not want it to come loose and fly off.

  The morning sky for the most part was clear. There were only a handful of clouds in view. These were brilliantly lit in hues of red and pink from the sun that had just peaked over the horizon to the east.

  Everything below seemed to be made in miniature. Farms and isolated buildings moved slowly by, almost as if he and the others he traveled with were on a ship and some strange and distant coast was sliding past. Only he was not on a ship, but mounted on a dragon, soaring high over the land.

  Wings also outstretched and riding on an invisible current of air to his right, Tyven flew several dozen yards away from Inex. All of Ruga’s men, as well as Tiro, Therik, and Restus, were bundled up against the cold. He figured they were just as cold and miserable as everyone else.

  Turning his gaze away from Tyven, Stiger looked down once again. The view was not only commanding, but breathtaking. He could see towns and villages off in the distance, along with roads crisscrossing the land. Some were small, meandering local roads, while others were wide, arrow-straight arteries, clearly imperial highways. Looking like ants, people moved along these snow-covered roadways afoot, in carts, on wagons, and even by horseback.

  It did not surprise Stiger that at such an early hour, the roads of the empire were busy with commerce for the coming day. Living miles from the nearest village, town, or city, many would start out from their farms well before dawn to make it to the markets to sell their goods. They would likely return home well after dark. Farming was a difficult life. Stiger had learned that.

  The extensive road network, which spread to the far corners of the empire, had been primarily constructed with the military in mind, for the rapid deployment and movement of the legions. The roads also served a secondary purpose, encouraging and allowing both trade and commerce to flow from city to city throughout the empire and back to the capital. Both the military and subsequent trade generated by imperial peace had made the empire wealthy.

  He turned his attention ahead. There was something off into the distance. Stiger squinted as he stared at the sight that seemed to slowly materialize and spread across what looked like the entire horizon. At first, he did not quite understand what he was seeing. It was just a smudge of gray and white, unlike any terrain he had seen so far on their journey. With every passing heartbeat, the dragons brought them closer and it only seemed to grow larger, more expansive.

  Realization abruptly dawned, and with it, Stiger found himself awed, just awed. He was gazing upon Mal’Zeel, a home he had not seen in years. And he was seeing it in a way he never thought he would, from the air.

  Slightly off to the dragon’s left, the city stretched out ahead of them. The great city was truly a testament to the will and vision of a people, his people. There, Karus, the first emperor, had planted the seeds for an empire. From fertile ground, the empire had sprouted and had grown into the behemoth and dominating land power it was today, with many major cities, hundreds of towns, and thousands of villages. The empire spanned an almost unimaginably huge area, covering thousands of square miles, with millions of civilians.

  Mal’Zeel was the crown jewel, the beating heart of the empire. Each of the Seven Hills, over which the city had been built, were now plainly visible. So too were the banks of the River Dio, which flowed from the Inland Sea, by and around the capital, before taking a meandering path to the Eastern Ocean. Boats, some large and others quite small, some with sails but most powered by oars, moved serenely along the river.

  Just over the city itself hung a sort of smudge on the air, an ugly gray pall of a cloud. This was an ever-present sign of civilization for cities, a byproduct. Smoke from an unknowable number of hearths and fires caused it. Despite the cloud hanging ominously over the city, Stiger was deeply impressed by all that he saw.

  The sight of the city touched him to his core. Stiger had struggled over the years to prove himself worthy to serve, to redeem his family name, to undo the damage his father had done, and to honor the empire. In a manner of speaking, Mal’Zeel represented all he had labored for over the years. And now, as impossible as it all seemed, like one of the great epics, he was returning home as the emperor. Him, Stiger … an outcast from polite society, a veritable pariah … emperor. In his hands he now wielded the ultimate power in the empire, imperium.

  The sun had not
yet risen high enough to bathe its warming rays over the entirety of the land. Much of the city was still shrouded in shadow and the gloom of early morning darkness. But what he could see was impressive, including the Great Colosseum, where the gladiatorial games were played. It towered over everything around it.

  Stiger’s tutors had told him more than a million people called the city home, perhaps even as many as two million. No one knew for certain. Though it had been talked about and debated for years in the senate, a complete census had never been taken. Seeing it all from a bird’s-eye view on the dragon’s back, he could readily believe that close to two million people called the capital home.

  So transfixed was he by the sight of the capital, Stiger’s worries about what waited for him faded slightly. Under the early morning light and partially hidden in shadow, he found the heart of the empire beautiful, a sight for sore eyes. He had not expected to be so touched and moved, yet he had been.

  Even as he continued to stare, Stiger offered up a silent prayer of thanks to his god. He thanked the High Father for his many blessings and those he had bestowed upon the empire. He asked for the great god’s guidance and support in not only the hours to come, but also the days ahead. For he suspected they would be challenging in the extreme.

  The city appeared disorganized and built without any thought to preplanning. Buildings by the tens of thousands were jumbled almost impossibly close together. Streets zigzagged their way madly throughout, as did dozens of major aqueducts. The latter, which brought in the city’s lifeblood, water, ran off into the far distance toward whatever water source they drew upon like the spokes of a wheel.

  Without fresh water for drinking and bathing, and the sewers that carried waste out of the city, sustaining so many in one place would have been impossible. His tutors had explained how it all worked and the critical significance of such infrastructure.

  Civilization set the empire apart from the barbarians. Aqueducts were just one vital component. Education was another. The majority of the people in the city, no matter how mean their circumstances, would be able to read and write, at least on a basic level. The empire saw to that.