Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) by Marc Alan Edelheit Page A
Authors: Marc Alan Edelheit
Ads: Link
rounded the corner of the farmhouse. Stiger sensed sudden movement to his left. Reflexes took over, honed by years of training, and he instinctively dodged to the right before he fully understood what was happening. A knife flashed past, aimed at his neck, glinting slightly with the morning light. It missed, the point lightly scraping across the skin of his neck.
The captain’s left hand snapped out, striking the assassin with a hard blow to the side of the head. This elicited a startled cry a moment before the two crashed together violently. The canteens and toiletry bag went flying as Stiger fought to remain on his feet. The assassin’s momentum and weight carried him further to the right, threatening to take him to the ground.
The assassin managed to gain a powerful grip on Stiger’s shoulder. Subconsciously, the captain understood the knife was being wielded poorly, as the assassin brought it around for another strike. Stiger hastily hooked one of his legs around the back of one of the assassin’s. As he did so, he threw all of his weight suddenly backward and to the right, using the assassin’s momentum against him, tripping him, while at the same time managing to twist away and out of the grip. In the blink of an eye, and nearly as quickly as the attack had begun, the captain was free and on his feet.
Stiger spun around, booted foot snapping out toward the assassin’s knife hand. The man was stumbling back to his feet. The kick connected violently, almost powerful enough to shatter bones. The assassin shrieked in pain as the knife went flying, landing a few feet away in the dirt. The man stepped backwards, cradling his hand to his chest.
Without letting up, Stiger delivered another kick, which landed in the assassin’s side. The blow stole the assassin’s wind and he dropped to his knees. The captain delivered another kick, knocking the man to the ground, where he landed heavily.
Stiger mentally cursed himself for having let down his guard. This was not the first time an assassin had made an attempt on his life. The assassin rolled away and was struggling to get to his feet.
“My turn,” Stiger growled, drawing his own dagger from his boot. He advanced on the assassin, intent on murdering him.
Then he blinked in shock, almost missing a step. The assassin was one of his legionaries! He had expected the possibility that at some point one of his men might make an attempt on his life, but he had not expected it so soon. He had not even been in command for a full day!
The would-be assassin froze. His eyes were drawn to the knife and then the captain’s face. Their eyes locked, one set filled with newfound fear and the other with a murderous rage. Blood boiling, the captain took a halting step forward, and then another, more determined one. This man must die!
Sargent Ranl abruptly appeared, taking in the scene in a glance and deducing what had occurred. He stepped between the captain and the assassin, hauling the man roughly to his feet. Stiger hesitated again. Within seconds, drawn by the commotion, a crowd of men gathered. Lieutenant Ikely arrived with short sword in hand, pushing through the press and looking nervously at the men.
“Are you all right, sir?” the lieutenant asked, concern on his youthful face. The lieutenant also placed himself between the would-be assassin and his captain, not liking the look on the captain’s face.
“Bennet,” Sergeant Blake thundered in a voice only a sergeant could deliver, shoving men aside as he made his way through the crowd. He retrieved the man’s knife from where it had landed in the dirt. “A bad business, this. What in the seven levels were you thinking, man?”
Stiger was breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping through him. He was furious. He had initially suspected the attack was political in nature, an attempt to strike a blow at his house … but one of his own men? With great effort, he forced himself to calm down. Experience had shown him that in
The captain’s left hand snapped out, striking the assassin with a hard blow to the side of the head. This elicited a startled cry a moment before the two crashed together violently. The canteens and toiletry bag went flying as Stiger fought to remain on his feet. The assassin’s momentum and weight carried him further to the right, threatening to take him to the ground.
The assassin managed to gain a powerful grip on Stiger’s shoulder. Subconsciously, the captain understood the knife was being wielded poorly, as the assassin brought it around for another strike. Stiger hastily hooked one of his legs around the back of one of the assassin’s. As he did so, he threw all of his weight suddenly backward and to the right, using the assassin’s momentum against him, tripping him, while at the same time managing to twist away and out of the grip. In the blink of an eye, and nearly as quickly as the attack had begun, the captain was free and on his feet.
Stiger spun around, booted foot snapping out toward the assassin’s knife hand. The man was stumbling back to his feet. The kick connected violently, almost powerful enough to shatter bones. The assassin shrieked in pain as the knife went flying, landing a few feet away in the dirt. The man stepped backwards, cradling his hand to his chest.
Without letting up, Stiger delivered another kick, which landed in the assassin’s side. The blow stole the assassin’s wind and he dropped to his knees. The captain delivered another kick, knocking the man to the ground, where he landed heavily.
Stiger mentally cursed himself for having let down his guard. This was not the first time an assassin had made an attempt on his life. The assassin rolled away and was struggling to get to his feet.
“My turn,” Stiger growled, drawing his own dagger from his boot. He advanced on the assassin, intent on murdering him.
Then he blinked in shock, almost missing a step. The assassin was one of his legionaries! He had expected the possibility that at some point one of his men might make an attempt on his life, but he had not expected it so soon. He had not even been in command for a full day!
The would-be assassin froze. His eyes were drawn to the knife and then the captain’s face. Their eyes locked, one set filled with newfound fear and the other with a murderous rage. Blood boiling, the captain took a halting step forward, and then another, more determined one. This man must die!
Sargent Ranl abruptly appeared, taking in the scene in a glance and deducing what had occurred. He stepped between the captain and the assassin, hauling the man roughly to his feet. Stiger hesitated again. Within seconds, drawn by the commotion, a crowd of men gathered. Lieutenant Ikely arrived with short sword in hand, pushing through the press and looking nervously at the men.
“Are you all right, sir?” the lieutenant asked, concern on his youthful face. The lieutenant also placed himself between the would-be assassin and his captain, not liking the look on the captain’s face.
“Bennet,” Sergeant Blake thundered in a voice only a sergeant could deliver, shoving men aside as he made his way through the crowd. He retrieved the man’s knife from where it had landed in the dirt. “A bad business, this. What in the seven levels were you thinking, man?”
Stiger was breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping through him. He was furious. He had initially suspected the attack was political in nature, an attempt to strike a blow at his house … but one of his own men? With great effort, he forced himself to calm down. Experience had shown him that in
Similar Books
