Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) (20 page)

Moving rapidly, they passed through several doors which, had they been shut, would have proved a significant obstacle. The doors were made of a stout, heavy oak, framed and reinforced with metal supports. Castle servants fled screaming before them as they advanced through the keep. A few cowered in corners as Stiger and his men stormed by.

The group burst out onto a landing, with Boral pointing the way forward through a large doorway. Stiger’s men exploded through it, with the captain only a few feet behind. They found themselves in the keep’s great hall, which was filled with people. Most appeared to be not of the garrison, but civilians from the valley. They looked in shock at Stiger and his men. Several of the women screamed, with most everyone backing away.

Stiger and his men found themselves confronted by their first real, organized resistance. Seven of Captain Aveeno’s legionaries rushed forward, swords swinging, as they pushed their way through the civilians. None were wearing armor or carrying shields. They wore only their service tunics. Stiger’s men met the charge, shields forward, and swords jabbing and slashing efficiently. Stiger stepped forward and caught a sword thrust that had been aimed at one of his legionaries. He deftly turned the stroke aside before jabbing it into the man’s belly. The man screamed and fell backward. Eli’s sword flashed out, lightning fast, catching a stroke meant for the captain. Stiger ducked back and to the side, striking at another sword. Sergeant Blake and several other legionaries appeared, having been delayed by disarming a man they had encountered on the landing. They pushed the captain back and stepped forward, hacking at the enemy.

It was all over in seconds, with all seven of Aveeno’s men dead or dying at their feet. Weapons were kicked away from the wounded. Blake finished one of the wounded off with a quick stab to the throat. The man had had a vicious belly wound and Blake had meant it to be a mercy killing, but the act had the effect of badly frightening the civilians even further.

Stiger took a good look around the room. Perhaps thirty or forty civilians and servants were cowering along the sides of the great hall, which was nearly empty of furniture. A fire burned in a large central fire pit in the middle of the room. Smoke curled lazily upward toward a chimney set in the ceiling above. Along the back wall, a row of windows looked out over the valley. Near these windows sat a great big throne, with a tiger’s pelt draped over the back. A man in a captain’s coat sat upon the throne. In front of him stood two legionary lieutenants, both with their swords drawn. Pure malice was written across their faces.

“Silence!” the man on the throne thundered at the screaming and moaning of the wounded legionaries and frightened civilians. A moment of silence seemed to settle upon the great hall.

“Captain Aveeno, I presume?” Stiger pushed himself through his line of legionaries. Rage burned in his heart. There were several things that Stiger wanted to personally do to this man. At the very least, Aveeno would pay for the deaths of Eli’s scouts, not to mention the betrayal of his oath. Eli and Father Thomas moved with him as he advanced across the room and past the fire pit. Oddly, Stiger’s men seemed frozen in place. Stiger did not notice.

“Finally. I thought you would never come!” Captain Aveeno issued a wicked laugh, to show he was unafraid.

“I am Captain Stiger,” Stiger growled. “You will answer for the murder of my people.”

“You care about your revolting men?” Aveeno laughed, spittle flying. “An officer who cares about those beneath his feet … how touching and enlightening!”

Stiger said nothing, but continued forward with Eli and Father Thomas flanking him.

“Since you care, you should know your scouts died screaming, and that I did the deed myself,” Captain Aveeno snarled, standing up from his throne. He pulled forth a wicked-looking sword that had been resting against the throne. It had been hidden from view. The sword was black as night, and seemed to absorb light as Aveeno waved it before their eyes. Hate and malice radiated forth, almost wavelike.

“They sold you out,” Aveeno laughed. “You and your pet elf. A Stiger! Ha! I could not believe my luck! A spoiled, noble brat living off the legend of your dying family name.”

“They told you nothing,” Stiger snarled.

“They told me everything!” Aveeno laughed cruelly, “Your blood will honor my master, but first you will die begging for mercy at my feet as your scouts did!”

Father Thomas, who had been moving with Stiger, took one look at the commandant’s sword and pulled Stiger up short. Stiger shot the paladin a look of pure rage, furious at having been interrupted from unloading his anger on Aveeno. The paladin sensed the rage surging through the captain. Stiger jerked his shoulder in an attempt to pull away, but Father Thomas’ grasp was ironclad. The captain’s rage turned from Aveeno to the paladin. Stiger raised his sword to strike.

Time stopped, with everyone other than Stiger and Father Thomas seemingly frozen. A feeling of ice-cold exploded through the captain. The cold surged forth from where the paladin’s vice-like hand gripped his shoulder. Stiger cried out in agony, his vision going white as the paladin’s power hammered through him. The pain lasted for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a moment. Almost as quickly as the agony had begun, it was replaced by a cooling and calming sensation that flowed throughout his entire body. A sense of calm and serenity with the world settled in his very soul. The captain’s rage melted away. Stiger blinked in surprise at the paladin, who offered an understanding look in return.

“Your soul was under assault,” the paladin explained quietly. “No longer. The High Father has freed you.”

Stiger was at a loss for words. The paladin’s power continued to surge through him, relaxing and calming. So incredible was the feeling, he was almost unable to comprehend Father Thomas’ words. Nothing seemed to matter, other than the feeling of peace and serenity.

“This fight is mine and mine alone, my son,” the paladin said softly, barely loud enough for the captain to hear. He released Stiger. Time started once again as the paladin stepped forward to confront Aveeno. It had all happened so fast, and yet to Stiger it seemed like an age had passed. The surge in power faded, but the feeling of peace and wellbeing remained, though diminished somewhat. Stiger glanced over at Eli, who also had a look of astonishment on his face. He had been touched by the paladin’s power as well, though not as forcefully.

“Are you going to let a traveling priest fight your battles for you?” Aveeno seethed, having witnessed the exchange but not understanding it. “I don’t know why I expected better from a Stiger!”

What would have normally stung his pride failed to pierce him. At this very moment, nothing could have upset or provoked the captain to anger. He felt at peace with the world.

“Your fight is with me, filth,” Father Thomas said in a voice that echoed across the great hall. Ignoring the large sabre belted to his side, the paladin held forth his hand, and abruptly a great golden war hammer shimmered into existence. It was so large Stiger was amazed the paladin could even hold it.

“I believe it is time for you to reveal your true form,” the paladin continued. The war hammer emitted a flash of white light that was so blindingly intense Stiger and everyone else in the great hall were forced to shield their eyes. When the flash had passed, Stiger saw the crumpled form of Aveeno’s body lying before the throne. Shockingly, the body was shrunken like an old grape, with steam rising upward from the remains. The two lieutenants were also down, their bodies smoking as well, but whole in form.

Where a moment before there had been nothing, a shadowy figure coalesced from Aveeno’s remains, as if pulling itself together into a coherent whole. It slowly stood, terribly hunched and impossibly twisted, facing Father Thomas. It was so ugly and misshapen that Stiger’s mind could not seem to focus on its features. Abstractly, Stiger understood he was looking upon the face of pure evil, and yet he still felt calm, relaxed and untroubled. Father Thomas and the thing were just feet apart.

“Priest … you think to challenge my powers?” the shadowy figure hissed a terrible laugh, almost serpent-like. “A holy relic alone is no match for my power!”

“I intend to banish you, filth … vile servant of Castor,” the paladin answered, calmly but firmly. The hunched, shadowy figure raised the wicked black blade that Aveeno had been holding moments before.

“You are no simple priest!” the figure sneered, stepping from the steaming remains of Aveeno. It hissed in malice, which seemed to radiate forth like heat on a hot summer’s day. “I shall be rewarded for taking your head!”

“You will take nothing but the High Father’s greetings to your master,” Father Thomas countered. “I will send you back from whence you came!”

With an incredible shrieking scream of rage, dripping with hate, malice and pure loathing, the shadowy, twisted figure lunged forward with an inhuman speed that was shocking to witness, and struck at Father Thomas. The paladin reacted with similar speed. Both the black sword and the golden war hammer crashed together with the sound of thunder.

Two powers, well beyond mortal comprehension, came together in a titanic moment. Black and white lightning exploded throughout the great hall. The world stopped, ended and then began again all in the same moment, as a sound too terrible to comprehend ripped through the room, followed by a concussive blast of wind that knocked everyone off their feet.

Stiger’s eyes snapped open. He was lying on a hard stone floor and every part of his body ached terribly. He had no idea how long he had been out. The peaceful feeling of serenity had been taken cruelly away. He slowly picked himself up and looked around in confusion. He was still in the great hall. Others were beginning to stir. Memories began to return, as he saw Father Thomas kneeling before the throne that Aveeno had recently occupied.

The paladin seemed to be in prayer. He no longer wore his priestly robes. Those had been cast aside and lay in a heap only a few feet away. The paladin’s armor gleamed with a soft, whitish light that that throbbed slightly. Stiger could only describe the light as “holy” in its source. Eli stood off to the side, watching the paladin silently. He cast a glance over at Stiger as the captain approached. Together they watched, mute, as the light emanating from the paladin’s armor dimmed and then faded away altogether. Neither dared speak.

Father Thomas stood slowly, as an old man would. He turned to Stiger. His face was drawn and lined with exhaustion. His right eyelid twitched uncontrollably and his hands shook.

“What happened?” Stiger croaked after a moment, throat dry and parched. The room spun slightly. He shook his head, as if clearing cobwebs from a long night’s sleep.

“A servant of Castor infested Aveeno’s body,” the paladin explained tiredly, voice etched with deep exhaustion. “With the grace of the High Father, both are no more.”

“A miracle,” Eli breathed reverently. “We have been blessed.”

Stiger looked over to where Captain Aveeno’s body and that of the hunched abomination had been. There was nothing remaining of either. It was as if both had never existed. All that remained was the tiger pelt draped over the back of the throne. Even the bodies of Aveeno’s two lieutenants were gone; vanished.

“With the High Father’s help, their remains have been removed,” Father Thomas explained. “Had I left anything … it was quite possible what remained might have infected others.”

The captain shivered. Castor was evil incarnate. They had been lucky Father Thomas had been with them.

“Glad you kept me around?” Father Thomas asked, guessing the captain’s line of thought. Before Stiger could reply, the paladin lurched and then fell forward, collapsing. Stiger caught him and eased the man gently to the ground.

“I am afraid that I shall be of little help for the foreseeable future,” Father Thomas breathed in a weakened voice. “I have given all of my energy and must now rest to recover. No matter how long I sleep, try to keep from disturbing me.”

“We will keep you safe,” Stiger affirmed.

“Thank you, my son,” Father Thomas said, with the faintest hint of a smile. His eyes began to roll back and then suddenly snapped back into focus. “There may be more of Castor’s contamination about … be cautious of strange items, like the sword Aveeno wielded. Do not touch anything that looks out of the ordinary.”

“We won’t, Father,” Stiger promised. “Now, if you will, please rest.”

Father Thomas closed his eyes and immediately entered a deep sleep. Stiger looked up at Eli, who had knelt by his side. Bennet and several additional legionaries burst into the hall, swords drawn. Those who had entered with Stiger were still shaken terribly, as were the villagers. Some were still struggling to stand.

“Are you all right, sir?” Bennet asked, looking over the dead and wounded of Captain Aveeno’s supporters who had first challenged them when they had burst into the great hall.

“Yes, I believe we are,” Stiger said, taking a deep breath.

“What happened?” Bennet asked, looking around. Everyone in the great room was acting strangely.

“Father Thomas defeated a servant of Caster,” Eli answered.

“Castor?” Bennet gasped in horror and looked down at the sleeping paladin. Eyes wide in shock, several of the legionaries with him made the sign of the High Father. The horror was quickly replaced with a look of incredible respect.

“Father Thomas needs to be watched over,” Stiger said, standing up. His muscles protested. “He must rest and not be disturbed.”

“Me and the boys will watch over the good father, sir,” Bennet assured his captain. “No harm will come to him, sir.”

Stiger nodded woodenly and stepped back, allowing Bennet to care for the paladin. The captain blinked and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He felt as if he had slept for a week and was still somewhat disoriented. A shout outside the doorway, followed by the sound of sword on sword, shattered the moment.

“Eli, Blake, Boral … you men!” Stiger snapped. He walked over to where he had dropped his sword and picked it up. Blake, wobbling a little, stepped over. “Let’s go find out how the rest of the fight is going.”