The Tiger's Fate (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 3) by Marc Alan Edelheit

Author:Marc Alan Edelheit [Edelheit, Marc Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-23T22:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Stiger struggled up the last few feet of slope to the top of the pass with a feeling of vast relief. He felt like dropping to the ground and resting, but instead surveyed the scene before him. Thirty to forty feet ahead, Second Cohort had built a small improvised barricade, neatly blocking the pass. While he had been gone, the men had not been idle. The barricade had been constructed using a small berm of snow that they had built up and then packed down. A number of tree trunks had been placed atop the snow berm in a crisscrossed fashion, creating a crude but serviceable barrier for the men to fight behind.

Stiger glanced over as Ruga clambered up next to him. The centurion’s armor was dented and scratched. One of the chin guards on his helmet was missing. Blood, both green and red, had spattered across his armor and dried. The centurion looked as wet, cold, and miserable as Stiger felt. Fighting under winter conditions was a terrible experience that tended to significantly increase casualties. It was why most fighting stopped during the winter months and armies typically went into quarters ‘til spring.

Ruga took in the scene before throwing Stiger a sardonic look. “With you in command, sir, I must confess I never once doubted we would make it.”

Stiger stared back at the centurion for a moment before exploding with laughter. He clapped the older man on the shoulder. Ruga was a man he could like. The centurion laughed with him.

“After this is over, we will share a jug of wine and drink to those we lost,” Stiger declared.

Vargus walked up to the two men. The centurion’s eyes ran over the both of them. Stiger was sure they looked a sight.

“It was a little spirited,” Ruga commented as the harsh blaring of a horn sounded behind them, some distance off in the valley. The centurion glanced backward. “Just a little.”

“My daughter?” Vargus asked.

“Alive and well,” Ruga said. Vargus’s shoulders sagged in relief.

The survivors from Ruga’s century and the freed captives were scrambling up the last few feet of slope to the level ground of the pass. Behind them, Third and Fifth Centuries followed, keeping a watchful eye out for any additional orcs.

“I expect they will follow soon enough,” Stiger said to Vargus. The centurion looked doubtful.

“Father!” Vargus turned, and his daughter threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly as she broke down in tears. Lan came up behind them, eyeing Vargus a little uncertainly. The lieutenant had had a rough time of it. The side of his face was bruising badly, his lip was split, and his armor was scratched, pitted, and badly dented in places. He was also covered in a lot of dried greenish blood.

“Thank you for saving my least favorite niece,” Ruga said, offering his hand to the lieutenant.

Lan took the centurion’s proffered hand and winced with the effort.

“Least favorite?” Jenna exclaimed with mock indignation, pulling herself away from her father and rounding on her uncle.

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