Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) (11 page)

“The condition of the men in the main encampment offends me,” 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.

“If we are unlucky,” Eli interjected with a mischievous smile filled with little needle-like teeth, “your cavalry troop might get some action.”

Stiger frowned at Eli. There was a knock on the doorframe.

“Father Thomas,” Corporal Kennet announced solemnly. Everyone turned in surprise.

A large man wearing brown priestly robes that were cloak-like, with the hood pulled up against the rain, stepped through the door. The man threw his hood back, revealing a shock of red hair and a bushy red beard. His eyes were kindly and seemed to twinkle with a child’s delight.

Father Thomas took in the four officers. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of an elf this far to the south, well away from the elven ancestral homelands. As he placed his hands on his hips, his robes parted slightly to reveal a heavy chainmail shirt emblazoned with the High Father’s sigil. The hilt of a large sabre emerged, hanging low and to his left side, the tip nearly dragging on the floor.

“I see that I finally found Captain Stiger and the 85
^th
Imperial Foot!” The large man’s voice boomed in the small room. “Do you know how difficult it was to find your camp? In the dark? In the rain? However did you manage to select such an isolated place to camp?”

“Holy Father, it is an honor to be in your presence,” Eli said with reverence, for here before him was the direct representative of one of the gods that his race honored. He offered a respectful bow.

“The High Father’s will drew me here,” Father Thomas responded jovially, smiling at the elf before looking back at Stiger. “You must be Captain Stiger. I understand you are traveling to Vrell, sir. General Mammot was quite kind enough to provide me a pass to accompany you. Do you wish to see it?”

“Oh shit!” Stiger breathed hoarsely, blood draining from his face. His hand suddenly began to tremble and then clenched tightly as he became visibly angry, glaring darkly at Father Thomas.

“What’s wrong?” Lan asked, confused, looking between Father Thomas and Captain Stiger. “He is the High Father’s representative. We should be honored to have been blessed with a warrior priest. Should we not?”

“He is no simple warrior priest,” Stiger growled angrily, pointing an accusatory finger in the direction of Father Thomas, who frowned in reply. “We are in the presence of a great big bloody holy warrior of the High Father.”

There was stunned shock from Ikely and Lan as the words sank in. They both turned to look at Father Thomas in awe. Eli simply stood there, saying nothing and betraying no emotion.

“A paladin?” Ikely asked after a moment, looking between Father Thomas and Captain Stiger. “He is a paladin? Is that what you are saying?”

“Yes,” Stiger snapped in mounting rage, jabbing another accusatory finger in Father Thomas’ direction. “A great big, bloody, red-headed paladin sent to us by the blessed High Father!”

“That’s me,” Father Thomas said with a wink. He was usually greeted in a far more welcoming manner. Regardless, he was determined to remain cheerful.

“Mark my words,” Stiger continued, “where paladins go, there is always trouble, and not the little kind either.”

“I thought paladins were good?” Ikely breathed, shocked at his captain’s harsh words. He never in his life thought he would ever have the honor to meet a real live paladin. They were mostly the stuff of story and legend.

“Well, Lan,” Stiger snapped irately, never taking his angry gaze away from Father Thomas. “You may get your wish after all. It looks as if we are unlucky enough to warrant a paladin on quest. Now gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I am going to go for a piss before bed.” With that, Stiger tipped his head slightly to Father Thomas, stepped around the man and out into the pouring rain, without bothering to grab his cloak.

“That seemed to go so well,” Father Thomas said, watching the captain disappear into the rain-lashed night. “I do so try with first impressions …”

“Pardon him, Father,” Eli said softly stepping near. “I can say that he is the best of men, but …”

“But,” Father Thomas finished, glancing back in the direction of the door, “he has encountered another paladin on quest, I presume?”

“Father Griggs joined us for the campaign in Abath,” Eli answered.

“Poor Griggs.” Father Thomas breathed a heavy sigh. “His loss and sacrifice was a great blow to our order.”