The Tiger’s Imperium

by Marc Alan Edelheit

“I thought that a very real possibility,” Marcus said. “By the time word reaches us of their movement north, we may not be able to march back in time to stop them from reaching the capital.”

  “You should know I received word they landed a second army, a smaller one, far to the south,” Stiger said.

  Marcus blew out an unhappy breath. “Between the Castol and the confederacy, we will soon be in a difficult position.”

  “After the senate gave you your marching orders,” Stiger said, “I am guessing your plan was to strike first against the Castol, fast and hard, then turn as quickly as you could and march back to face the confederacy when they move up from the south. Do I have that right?”

  Marcus gave a nod. “I was intending on force marching north. In winter, it will not be an easy undertaking, but we greatly outnumber the Castol and I believe we can achieve surprise. Most of the cavalry left well before the army began marching. I sent them farther north, with orders to swing around and behind the enemy, with an aim toward severing supply lines and communications. With any luck, after they get to work, the Castol will use their cavalry to attempt to drive ours off.”

  “Interesting,” Stiger said with approval.

  “As it’s winter,” Marcus said, “even a little disruption in supply is a big problem. An army will eat themselves hungry if the supply trains cease coming or even if a few are eliminated. There is also the added benefit of forcing their cavalry to react to ours. It steals their long-range eyes, further blinding them to my approach with the main body of the army. I was hoping to close with theirs before they became aware of us.”

  Stiger took a few heartbeats to think it through. “It’s a good plan,” he admitted.

  “I believe it has a fair chance of working,” Marcus said. “Out of their forests and on the plains around the city of Tiber, the Castol are exposed. They are not accustomed to our style of fighting. With our numbers, and even with the army being half-trained, I was confident of the end result. However, if they choose flight over fight, they would be forced to flee back through a land they themselves pillaged, one stripped of food and in the throes of winter. The effect would be the same as me defeating them directly in battle. At that point, I would be free to march back to the capital, on more direct roads.”

  “It seems as if Lears is sticking with the plan,” Eli said.

  “He would not want to upset the senate,” Max put in, “at least at this stage.”

  “I have even prepositioned stocks of food along our route of march,” Marcus added. “Moving supply in winter is a bitch and changing the plan at this point would be foolish. No, Mechlehnus and Lears are committed. They must follow through with everything I have set in motion.”

  “Do we have any idea on the size of the army the Castol have brought south?” Stiger asked.

  “At least a hundred thousand men,” Marcus said.

  “That many?” Stiger whistled, shaking his head. Even with superior numbers, that was still a large force. And much of the imperial army were composed of fresh troops, wet behind the ears recruits.

  “Maybe more,” Marcus said. “They have a lot of cavalry and our advance scouts have had difficulty determining their exact numbers.”

  “Over a hundred thousand, then.” Stiger felt sick to his stomach. If the Castol and Cyphan were able to unite their two armies, things would become very difficult for the empire. Such a thing could not be allowed to happen. One way or another, as his father had said, the imperial army would have to continue north and deal with the Castol. The risks of doing that were huge, especially with a half-trained army. Worse, the army might not be able to return to Mal’Zeel before the confederacy arrived, especially after having removed his father from command.

  “That all sounds like a challenge to me,” Therik said.

  “Does it?” Stiger looked over and shook his head again before turning back to his father. “Okay—one problem at a time. Lears comes first. We tackle that little problem, then everything else after.”

  “Little problem?” Max asked.

  Therik turned to Marcus and Max. “Do either of you know where Lears is in the city?”

  “I’d guess he’s taken up residence at the palace,” Max said.

  “But we cannot be certain of that,” Marcus said. “Though he was there last night, he may not be there now.”

  “We should strike before he can concentrate his soldiers.” Therik punched a fist into his open palm. “Hit him now, before he is prepared.”

  “He could be anywhere in the city,” Eli said. “We don’t know for sure he’s there in the palace.”

  “He’s there,” Stiger said. “Knowing Lears, I don’t think he’d give up the palace. Not willingly.”

  “The moment you entered the city,” Max said, “he might have surrounded the palace with a ring of steel.”

  Eli looked to Stiger. “After he lashed your back, you did sort of tell him you would kill him. It would be like him to do that, let others fight his battles for him.”

  “There was no ‘sort of’ about it,” Stiger said. “I made him a promise and I aim to keep it.”

  He had already delayed long enough. If he marched to the palace and Lears wasn’t there, or worse, he fled, Stiger would be in a difficult position. Lears would have the leisure time to consolidate his men and even recall Mechlehnus. That wouldn’t be good. Time was not on Stiger’s side. He was outnumbered, and badly.

  Stiger stared into the flames of the fire that cracked and popped before him, sending sparks and embers toward the hole in the ceiling. The urge to get moving was becoming very strong. There was no point in delaying any longer. He had learned all he could of the political landscape. Navaro was dead and he had no way of contacting Treim and Aetius’s agents. That was, if they were even alive. They might have fled the city.

  It was time to act. He clapped his hands together and stood, looking around. “I see no other option than go directly to the palace. We strike before Lears can get organized.”

  “And if he runs?” Eli asked. “He did that once before.”

  “I well remember,” Stiger said as he gave his answer some thought. “If he runs this time, he weakens his position and strengthens ours.”

  “That won’t mean a thing,” Marcus said, “if he’s able to rally enough men to his side. He can rebuild his reputation later, after he deals with us. It is frequently the victors that pen the history.”

  “We will just have to make sure we are the victors,” Stiger said.

  “On our way, we should stop by the temple district,” Father Restus said. “There may be some of my order present who can assist us. I can order the temple guards to join us as well. That will add considerably to our numbers.”

  “Very good.” Stiger liked the idea. That said, he did not feel good about what they were going to attempt. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many unknowns. But at the same time, he felt compelled to act. “Let’s push this show onto the palace.”

  “Do you think I can find a good meal there?” Therik asked.

  Stiger patted the orc on the back as he turned toward the door. “Of that, I am certain, my friend.”

  As Stiger started for the door, Ruga came in at a run. The centurion stopped and came to a position of attention.

  “Sir,” Ruga said. “The civilians are leaving, and in a hurry. There are soldiers coming up the hill too, and not just a few.”

  Stiger felt his heart sink at the news. He had waited too long to act. Now it would cost him potentially everything.

  “Get your men formed up in front of the building,” Stiger ordered. “Any who are out watching, or on sentry duty, pull them back immediately. If need be, we can withdraw into the house and bar the door. This place is a fortress. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ruga turned and, armor chinking, jogged back out the way he’d come.

  “I’m going to need a sword,” Marcus said. “Mine was taken.”

  “You can have Corus’s,” Stiger said.
“He’s won’t be needing it.”

  “I suppose not,” Marcus said.

  Stiger started for the door, knowing his position had become desperate. Lears had gotten the jump on him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ruga’s men had begun forming up into the ranks, hastily dressing themselves next to one another as Stiger stepped out of the courtyard and back onto the street and small square before his house.

  There were four ranks, with those men from Corus’s company comprising the last line. Moving amongst the ranks, Ruga’s optio was busy making sure the men continued to form up and prepare for action.

  “Stand aside,” Stiger ordered. “Make a hole.”

  The men, glancing back, made room for him, stepping aside and moving their shields out of the way. He quickly passed through the ranks and joined Ruga, who was standing at the head of the formation. The centurion was staring down the street they had recently come up. There were still a few civilians about in the square, but these were ducking into nearby shops, hastily moving away on side streets, or disappearing into alleys. In Stiger’s experience, that was never a good sign. They well knew trouble was in the offing.

  Ruga glanced over at Stiger before pointing ahead of them. “There, sir. There they are.”

  Stiger expelled an unhappy breath. What looked like an entire company in a marching column was working their way up the hill toward them. Worse still, these were not militia, but legionaries. He’d not be able to bluff his way by them. These men would do their duty, just like he would were he in their place.

  “And more coming up that side street there.” Ruga pointed to their right. “We’re gonna be badly outnumbered in a moment or two, sir. They have us boxed in nicely.”

  “Right,” Stiger said sourly as he looked. There was yet another company of legionaries approaching from the direction of the temple district.

  “It seems as if we won’t have to go that far to find a fight,” Therik said as he joined them. Eli, Restus, and Marcus came through the ranks a moment later, with Max trailing just behind. “They are coming to us.”

  Stiger eyed Therik for a long moment. He felt sick to his stomach, for he had waited too long. Stiger cursed himself again for that. And yet he knew he had needed intelligence, to learn the lay of the land before going for Lears. He slapped his thigh. There was no point in second-guessing his decisions, not now. Lears had simply reacted before he could. That was all.

  “It is what it is,” Stiger said.

  “That’s right,” Therik agreed, “and now we will fight.”

  Stiger looked around and spotted his father. He turned to Ruga. “My father needs a sword. What did you do with the one Corus was using?”

  “It’s over there, with the body, sir.” Ruga nodded off to the side of the formation. Both Corus and Yanulus had been dragged out of the way and placed against the wall of Stiger’s house. “I gave orders that the bodies were not to be rifled. I did not want the men of Corus’s company to become incensed.”

  “Good thinking,” Stiger said.

  “Both men were also officers and legionaries,” Ruga added. “They deserve some respect, sir.”

  “I agree.” Stiger turned to his father. “There’s a sword over there for you.”

  Marcus gave a nod and moved off.

  “Some more javelins than the handful Corus’s men have would be nice, sir,” Ruga mused as he turned back to watching the legionary company approach. “I’d have liked to whittle their numbers down a bit before the real action begins and our lines meet.”

  “They don’t have javelins either,” Therik pointed out.

  “So?” Ruga asked. “What is your point?”

  “Would you like me to run out to the city armory?” Eli asked Ruga. “I could fetch a few javelins for you.”

  “Would you? That is, if you wouldn’t terribly mind.” Ruga turned to Stiger. “For a while now, I’ve been wondering on something, sir.”

  “Oh?” Stiger asked, glancing over.

  “Where exactly did you find him, sir?” Ruga asked.

  “He sort of found me,” Stiger said, glancing over at Eli. The elf had attached himself to Seventh Company, Stiger’s first command, years ago. “It’s a long story, a very long story.”

  “I can only imagine, sir,” Ruga said and then looked at the elf. “Do you want me to bind and gag him until this is all over, sir? That way, we might die in peace.”

  “Bind and gag me?” Eli turned a scandalized look upon the centurion. “You would not dare!”

  “Try me,” Ruga said. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “I am beginning to revise my opinion of you, Centurion,” Eli said.

  Stiger’s gaze returned to the first company, which had reached the small square before Stiger’s home. The red-caped legionaries with their shields, armor, and sheathed swords looked smart and deadly.

  “Company, halt,” an officer shouted from somewhere amongst the column of march. The company ground to a halt at the edge of the square. “Sergeant, form three ranks. I want a battle line, yesterday, if you please.”

  “Yes, sir,” a sergeant at the head of the column replied in a gruff tone. He turned to face the men. “You heard the captain and you know the drill. Find your places. Get a move on.”

  The company began redeploying, just thirty yards from them. It was quickly done and well executed. A sudden thrill of excitement washed over Stiger at the display of professionalism, that and of the company itself. Before him was the epitome of what a legionary company should be, and he felt a stab of pride.

  The officer stepped out before his men. Stiger did not know the man, but that did not much matter. A handful of heartbeats later, the second company off to the right marched into the square before coming to a halt. After a brusque order, they too began to deploy into a battle formation next to the first company. They were putting on a show of strength.

  Beyond them, yet a third company was coming up the street to the right. In the small square, there would be no room for another company, which made these newcomers effectively a reserve. His excitement fading, Stiger blew out a long breath. He estimated there were six hundred men against Ruga’s command, which numbered just over a hundred.

  A growl close at hand caused Stiger to jump slightly.

  “Bloody gods,” Ruga exclaimed, having jumped. “Fucking dog nearly made me shit myself.”

  Dog was sitting by his side, between him and Ruga. Where he had come from or, for that matter, when he had arrived, Stiger had no idea. Ears up and hair standing on end, the animal’s attention was completely focused on the legionary companies before them. Dog had his teeth bared and was growling deeply.

  “And just where have you been?” Stiger asked the animal. “And how did you find us?”

  The growling ceased. Dog looked up at him with brown, watery eyes. He tilted his head to the side, ears flopping over, and his tail gave a half wag.

  “Well?” Stiger demanded, though he knew he would never get an answer.

  “He’s here now, sir,” Ruga said, having recovered. “I think that’s all that matters. To be honest, even though we’re badly outnumbered, I am comforted by it.”

  Dog’s tail gave another wag, this one clearly of approval, as he looked at Ruga and then to Stiger. His tongue hung crazily out of his mouth.

  “Me too,” Stiger agreed, and he was, for he felt better having the animal by his side. He reached down and patted the dog’s head.

  “That is the largest dog I’ve ever seen,” Marcus said as he returned with Corus’s sword in its sheath and holding the man’s sword harness. He raised the strap over his head and settled the leather harness into place on his shoulder and sword at his side. “He’s yours, I take it? I never figured you for keeping pets.”

  “Dog is his own master,” Stiger said, “and he is most definitely not a pet. He comes and goes when he pleases.”

  The animal’s tail began wagging as he stood and turned about to face Marcus. The wagging became more
vigorous, to the point where the tail shook the entire animal.

  “You named your dog Dog?” Marcus asked. “You could not come up with something more creative?”

  Tail still wagging wildly, Dog approached and nosed Marcus’s hand, licking it with a long pink tongue. Marcus scowled. Stiger knew his father had never been overly affectionate with dogs, other than those that could hunt, but that did not stop him from rubbing the top of the shaggy animal’s head, which came up to chest level.

  “I was told to name him,” Stiger said simply. He’d had the conversation before, not just once, but a few times. He did not feel like explaining more, for he was suddenly reminded of Theo, one more friend he had left behind. “So, I named him.”

  “He is a killer,” Therik said, eyeing the dog warily. “Don’t let his looks fool you.”

  Marcus spared the orc a disbelieving look. “He doesn’t look like he could chase down a rabbit. I don’t even think he’d be good for the hunt.”

  “Ben’s been busy. Not only did he get himself a dog,” Eli put in, “but he also got married too.”

  “What?” Marcus’s hand froze on the dog’s head. He turned a shocked gaze to his son. “Tell me I did not hear that correctly. Is what Eli says true?”

  Stiger closed his eyes at that. He did not need this right now.

  “You heard me right,” Eli said. “Your son now has a wife, and a beautiful one at that. Yes, she is a real looker.”

  “You married?” Max said to Stiger. “You took a wife?”

  Shaking his head, Stiger opened his eyes before shooting a heated look at Eli. At the same time, he felt a stab of anguish at the thought of having left Taha’Leeth behind with the army. The feeling was replaced rapidly with one of irritation. “Eli, do you really think this is the time for that conversation?”

  “Well”—Eli gestured toward the legionaries to their front, who were still forming up—“we’re badly outnumbered. I will pose a counterquestion. If not now, when? I mean, you should really thank me for breaking the ice with your father. You were going to have to tell him anyway. I’ve just helped you get it out of the way, is all.”