Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) (12 page)

“Are you really a paladin?” Ikely asked, still awed.

“I am a simple warrior in the service of the High Father,” the paladin said, his joviality returning along with his booming voice.

“He is a holy warrior called by the High Father to serve,” Eli confirmed for the lieutenant. “He is, indeed, what you humans would name a paladin.”

“It is an honor to meet you, sir.” Ikely bowed reverently. “Will you honor our company with a morning service?”

“I think a simple service can be arranged,” Father Thomas said. “As long as it does not upset our good captain too much.”

“Thank you, Father,” Ikely said. “The men will be greatly encouraged by your presence on our march to Castle Vrell.”

“Is it true, then?” Lieutenant Lan asked, eying the paladin carefully. He was deeply troubled by the captain’s reaction to Father Thomas. Unlike Ikely, he had seen combat, and it had been far uglier than he had expected. The dreams of glory and youthful adventure had quickly given way to reality.

“Is what true?” Father Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow at the cavalry lieutenant.

“Is what the captain says true?” Lan asked plainly. “Does your presence represent trouble on our way to Vrell?”

“The High Father called me here,” Father Thomas said with a simple shrug, never losing his smile. “The call could be in service to something related or unrelated. I will not know until I recognize it.”

“I see,” Lan said thoughtfully. “So it could be as bad as the captain suggests?”

“It is possible,” Father Thomas conceded with a slight frown. “There could be great danger for all, and that could be the High Father’s purpose in calling me here. My assistance in defeating it may be necessary.”

“What of this Father Griggs?” Lan asked of Eli. “Was the danger grave?”

“It was,” Eli admitted.

“A priestess of Avaya, if I understand correctly,” Father Thomas said. “The High Father called Griggs to deal with her.”

“Great Gods!” Lan breathed, aghast. “I pray we never come across such evil!”

“My son, I pray that be so as well,” Father Thomas agreed, making the holy sign of the High Father.

“Lieutenant Ikely,” Eli said. “Father Thomas will need a place to stay and dry off.”

“It will be my honor to arrange it,” Ikely said reverently. “Father, have you eaten?”

“Why, I thought you would never ask!” Father Thomas’ stomach rumbled for all to hear, at which he laughed deeply.

“I think we can find you something,” Ikely said, grabbing his cloak from by the fire. The lieutenant led Father Thomas out into the rain. Eli followed a moment later, leaving Lan alone in the room. Lan looked down upon the map, wondering just what was waiting for them on their journey to Castle Vrell. He had a growing feeling that whatever it was, he would not like it.

Nine

Sometime during the early morning hours, the rain had passed. Shortly after sunrise, Eli and a couple of his scouts marched in with a battered, but very live prisoner. The rebel was a small, wiry man. His clothing was threadbare and tattered. He looked very unimpressive, especially to the men of the company, who had gathered round for a look. Most had never seen a live rebel. It was an eye-opening experience. Seeing the stares, Stiger decided to take advantage of the situation.

He pushed through the throng and approached the prisoner. The man was wet, cold and shivering, though probably more from fright than cold. His hands were tied securely behind his back. The rebel collapsed to his knees at the captain’s feet, babbling in what passed for one of the many guttural southern languages, which Stiger did not know. The captain looked down at the groveling man for a moment, feeling nothing but disgust. The prisoner, no matter his reasoning, had rebelled against his empire. There was no excuse. His life was forfeit.

“This is your enemy,” Stiger said flatly, gesturing at the blubbering prisoner. “At the moment, he looks pathetic, weak and frightened. Why shouldn’t he? This wretch is our helpless prisoner.

“Make no mistake, when armed and in his element, he can kill. He will end your life if you give him the chance. If you let your guard down, he will happily stick a knife or sword between your ribs in a heartbeat.”

Stiger paused to allow that to sink in. The men were all ears, hanging onto his words. “This one was caught observing the main legionary encampment. The rebels have been watching it for a long time. Lieutenant Eli’Far even witnessed a rebel sneaking around our camp.”

The men looked startled at that revelation. Eli’s scouts, under orders, had not breathed a word to the men. He was confident the rebels had spies and sympathizers in the main encampment, most likely either slaves or camp attendants. The captain had kept the knowledge from his men for fear that a loose word to a dispatch rider or some other visitor from the main encampment would alert the rebels.

Stiger specifically sought out legionary Teg from the crowd and intentionally locked eyes with the man, sending a silent message. Teg held the captain’s gaze for a moment, before bowing his head slightly and nodding, as if to say that he would not fail at his duty again.

“This is your enemy.” Stiger’s voice rose in tone. “In the forests of Abath, I have seen a wretch like him take down a veteran of twenty years. They will move about in the darkness or under the cover of the brush, looking for an opportunity to get close … to catch you with your guard down. Do not fear this wretch. Instead, respect what he is capable of doing. Properly respected, the rebel is less dangerous. They are not to be feared, but respected. Trust in me to lead you. Trust in me to respect our enemy … for when properly respected and dealt with, they are nothing but rabble.”

Stiger paused again, allowing his words sink in. “We march soon. Keep a watchful eye. Stay vigilant. Do not let your guard down, for if you do, it could cost you your life and that of your fellows. Trust in me, and we will teach these curs to fear us!” The men gave a hearty cheer at that.

“Sergeant Blake.” Stiger turned to his sergeant. “Have the prisoner secured. The men may view him, but they are not in any way to molest him. He is to be delivered to General Mammot for questioning.”

“Yes sir,” Blake snapped, then turned to two of the armed sentries who had just come off watch. “Boatman and Feld, you two guard the prisoner. Make sure no harm comes to him.”

Both saluted and then stepped up to the prisoner, relieving the scouts. Stiger spared one more look at the prisoner, made a motion for Eli to follow, and they walked off toward the farmhouse. The men parted to let them pass. Stiger hoped his speech had made an impression. Perhaps it would save lives in the coming days.

“Did you get anything from him or the others?” Stiger asked once they were inside. The fire had died down. He threw on another log to drive away the damp, chill morning air.

“Yes,” Eli answered, removing his cloak and hanging it by the fire. “There is a rebel force to the south, somewhere around the city of Teml. It seems to be no more than forty miles away, which is rather close, don’t you think? I could not get an exact number, but it appears to be a significant force of many thousands.”

“What about toward Vrell?” Stiger asked. “Did he know anything important to us?”

“Nothing. He came from one of the rebel lands to the far south,” Eli stated. “He seemed exclusively concerned with the main encampment. I don’t think he knows anything of Vrell, which seems rather odd if the rebels have a force operating along the road.”

Stiger agreed with his friend. It seemed damned odd that those sent to observe would know nothing of rebel activity along the road from the encampment to Vrell. Though it was certainly possible they had been kept in the dark. It did not make sense. There should have been some level of contact among rebel forces operating in the area.

“Were you able to recover any documents?” Stiger asked.

“No,” Eli said, “The one we captured is illiterate, along with the others I interrogated. It appears someone personally comes around to collect verbal reports on what they have seen. If we had more time, we could lay a trap for this person?”

“No time for that,” Stiger sighed regretfully. “General Mammot will have to arrange for it. I will write up a report for the general to make him aware of this enemy force and the intelligence you gathered. I will also forward the prisoner on to him for further questioning.”

“I would prefer you be more respectful of Father Thomas,” Eli said, abruptly changing the subject. Though they respected the other gods, the elves worshiped the High Father almost exclusively. A direct representative of the High Father was to be treated with honor and utter respect.

“When are you planning on departing?” Stiger asked, not wishing to engage in such a discussion. Stiger had prayed never to see another paladin again. Where paladins went, death usually traveled as a close companion.

“When we are finished here,” Eli said with a heavy sighed, understanding his friend’s thinking. “I have most of my scouts on the road already.”

“Eli,” Stiger said, hesitating. “I do not like this mission we have been given. With a paladin showing up … well, it bodes ill. I want you to …”

“Ben,” Eli said, a look of sadness passing across his face. “Consider that we have been blessed by the High Father. Whatever evil lurks ahead …”

“The last one he sent us did not work out too well,” Stiger interrupted. “Or have you forgotten?”

“I never forget,” the elf said softly, but with steel in his voice, “Father Griggs failed us not. We fought great evil in the name of what is good. It would have been worse for us had the High Father not sent us his warrior cleric.”

Stiger grunted, turning to the fire. Eli sighed softly. He retrieved his cloak and turned to leave, then stopped.

“I will leave signs and messages,” Eli said, one hand on the doorframe, looking back. Eli would also have his scouts guide the company to suitable campsites along the march.

“Take care, my friend,” Stiger said, turning back from the fire. He would not see Eli for several days. Eli gave a simple nod in reply and then left.

Stiger sat down at the table. He remained silent for a while, thinking about the ghosts of the past that visited him whenever he was alone. After a bit, he shook himself free, sending the ghosts on their way. He pulled out his dispatch pad and charcoal pencil. He wrote out a report to General Mammot, concerning the prisoner and the elimination of the observation posts. Once complete, he sealed the dispatch and sent for Sergeant Ranl.

It would be interesting to see how General Mammot took the news. Would Stiger be praised for initiative or reprimanded for not sharing the information sooner? Since the visit from Captain Handi, Stiger had heard nothing about General Kromen’s condition or the power struggle undoubtedly underway. He had also heard nothing in reply to his dispatches to Colonel Karol, which did not bode well. The captain fairly itched to be on the road and away from what was transpiring in the main encampment.

“Have this dispatch delivered to General Mammot with my compliments, along with the prisoner,” Stiger ordered when Ranl arrived, handing over the dispatch. “Provide sufficient escort and make sure he arrives alive and in good condition. General Mammot may wish to have him questioned.”

“Yes sir,” Sergeant Ranl acknowledged, taking the dispatch. “I will have one of the corporals lead the escort.”

Stiger stood and walked to the front door as the sergeant left. He discovered Father Thomas sitting on the front porch, gazing at the prisoner across the camp. The paladin looked up at Stiger briefly before returning his gaze to the prisoner. The captain wondered how long the paladin had been there. Had he overheard Stiger’s and Eli’s conversation some minutes ago? In the end, Stiger decided, he didn’t care if the man had heard or not.

The paladin got to his feet, gaze still on the prisoner. A number of legionaries were studying the wretch. “An ugly business,” was all the paladin said before walking off.

Stiger watched, as the escort detail was organized. Within minutes, the prisoner was led away and out of the camp. Stiger came to the conclusion that he could not disagree with the paladin’s statement. War and rebellion … all of it was an ugly business.

***

The escort detailed for the supply train marched out of the camp to the rendezvous point that Eli had selected. The march had begun a little over an hour after sunrise. It was rapid and well-executed. There were none of the sullen looks and foot dragging that had been in evidence when the company had first marched from the main encampment. The practice marches had paid off handsomely. They looked like a completely different company than when Stiger had first taken command. The men were fit, conditioned and ready.

The main body of the company, around one hundred and sixty men, under the command of Lieutenant Ikely, had marched out a couple of hours prior to daybreak. They were already on the road to Vrell and marching hard. A normal movement, under full kit, consisted of thirty minutes of marching followed by a fifteen-minute break, to be repeated continuously. The captain had instructed the main body to spend forty-five minutes of every hour on the move, followed by a fifteen-minute break.

Speed and surprise were the keys to success. In the event the rebels managed to get word of the train’s movement, they would assume the pace would be a slow one. Such assumptions created an opportunity for surprise, which the captain intended to fully capitalize on. He was also relying heavily on Eli and his newly trained scouts to give him a further edge. In this respect, Stiger had complete confidence in his friend, a trained ranger. There was no one better at this kind of work than Eli.

It was all rather simple, really … at least in theory. Once the enemy camps were identified and located, Stiger intended to fall on them before they even knew they were in mortal danger. In this way, he hoped to clear the road of the enemy. The captain hoped theory would translate into reality, though he knew from experience the unexpected frequently threw the best plans awry.

General Kromen’s orders had anticipated around four weeks’ travel-time to Vrell. If possible, the captain intended to arrive at Vrell within two weeks. The gods only knew what he would find on the way or delays he might encounter. Worse … he had no idea what he might find at Vrell itself. One way or another, he was sure he would find out.

Stiger had elected to initially remain with the escort as the main body pushed ahead. The escort was some forty strong. Lieutenant Lan’s mounted troop would bring the total strength of the escort to seventy men total, thirty of them mounted. This force would guard the supply train and the four company wagons.

The captain’s purpose in remaining with the escort was to meet the sergeant in charge of the supply train. Though the man was essentially the lead teamster, he would also be a legionary. Therefore, the sergeant would be subject to Stiger’s orders, whether he agreed with them or not. Having this man’s cooperation, or at the very least obedience, was critical.

The escort had been carefully selected with consideration of those who had experience in handling wagons. With the main bulk of the company ranging far ahead, the supply train would need to cover more ground on a daily basis than the teamsters were likely accustomed to. When the teamsters tired, Stiger intended for his men to take over. He expected some level of friction with this last point.

The rendezvous was a crossroads, with one fork leading to Vrell. There were no signs, just the two roads intersecting amidst abandoned fields separated by stone walls. A scattering of trees grew close to the edges of the roads.

The empire’s initial interest in the South had been the vast hardwood forests. Many of the trees were old and tall, perfect for ship masts. Prior to the rebellion, there had once been a massive logging operation in this area. As the forest was cleared, one acre at a time, settlers moved in to work the land. The result had seen the roads heavy with traffic and the surrounding fields well-tended. The people who had lived and worked here had long since either fled, or worse, taken up arms against the empire.

Having arrived at the rendezvous point, Stiger and the escort began their wait for the train to arrive. Though fall was fast approaching, the day was rapidly turning hot and humid. Perspiring under the sun, the men had fallen out and sought cover in the shade amongst the trees along the roadside. Some napped, while others played cards or threw dice.

Waiting seemed to be a requirement for the legionary. It was the same old tale of hurry up and wait. The last several weeks of whipping his company into shape had not only been physically demanding, but exhausting for the captain. When the opportunity presented itself, Stiger had learned to take sleep where he could find it. Moving to the shade of a large oak, the captain sat down with his back against the hard trunk. He shut his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.