Eagle of the Empire

by Martin Ferguson

  Contents

  Also By Martin Ferguson

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  The Relic Hunters

  Historical Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Eagle Of The Empire

  Relic Hunters

  Copyright © 2017 Martin Ferguson

  SECOND EDITION

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author. Except in the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a piece of fiction. Any names, characters, businesses, places or events are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events or locations is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and have not purchased it for your use only, then you should return it to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover by Tom Roberts of Zoom Illustration

  Editing by Karen Sanders Editing

  Formatting by Pink Elephant Designs

  Also By Martin Ferguson

  Relic Hunters:

  Eagle of the Empire

  Curse of the Sands

  War of the Damned

  Blood of the Dragon

  To all those who have made this journey possible

  1

  MATT—The Highlands, Scotland

  ‘Run! Run! Get out of there!’ the headset screams in my ears as I dive through the waterfall. Soaking to the bone, I land hard on the rock of the cavern floor, the bite wound at my arm searing in agony. Around me, the cave tremors; stalactites crash down from the ceiling. I duck away from the cascade, rubble striking me, but I don’t slow, heart thundering in my chest as adrenaline and sheer will to escape forces me on.

  My predator leaps after me, jaws snapping wildly as it emerges from the water, fangs dripping crimson. I run on without pause, clutching at the deep bite to my arm, blood flowing through my fingers.

  Despite my agonising wound, I have no choice but to carry the torch with that side. The torch is the only source of light in the cave. I feel the hot breath of the creature behind me, too close now to escape. I turn, slamming the flashlight across its skull, hoping that my surprise attack will be enough to give me an advantage. Howling in pain, the creature crashes into the wall behind, blood drawn above an eye to stain the white and grey fur. Tremors ripple through the cave and I take flight once more.

  Emerging into the widest cavern, flanked by the graves of the dead, I run for the entrance I used less than an hour before. In the distance, I see the great stone door begin to fall, threatening to trap me in this desolate place forever. Sprinting with all the strength and energy I have, I charge, arrows soaring from the walls and spears rising from the floor to stop me – punishment for disturbing sacred ground. I duck and dart away from the iron points which seek to tear my flesh. Many come close – too close – and my baseball cap flies from my head across the cavern, impaled on an arrow.

  ‘No! No! NO!’ I yell as the rock door continues to fall, knowing I am not fast enough. The door hits the floor just as my fingers touch it.

  Trapped.

  Slamming my fists uselessly on the stone, I swear loudly, my curses echoing throughout the dark cavern.

  ‘There must be another way out!’ the voice on my headset cries frantically. ‘Don’t give up! Look around you!’

  ‘There is no other way out,’ I mutter back in defeat, sweeping my torch back across the chamber.

  The light begins to flicker and dim, my torch failing as the batteries die. I’m slowly plunged into darkness. Just as my vision is taken, I hear its clawed steps across rock.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  I can almost touch the menace.

  ‘I’m not alone in here,’ I whisper. Terror seizes me. There is no escape.

  I have a terrible choice. Light a flare and give away both of our positions, or play guess in the dark. There isn’t time to over-think it. From my pocket, I pull free a flare and ignite it. Red sparks burst from the tip, giving hellish light to the cavern. I hear the roar of the beast, shaking the catacombs around me. I see it then – properly, for the first time, demonic eyes glowing as it circles nearer. I struggle to control my fear. All I can do is breathe deep, readying myself for one last fight I have no chance of surviving.

  ‘Are you sure there’s no way out?’ the voice in the headset pleads.

  ‘There isn’t,’ I say, resigned to my fate. The red eyes of the monster are curious; it’s as if it’s waiting to hear what my last words will be. ‘Can you call Kat for me? Can you put me through to her?’

  All I want is to hear her voice one last time, to tell her I love her. To tell her I will always be with her. To tell her I’m sorry.

  ‘I’ve tried to contact Kat already, but she isn’t picking up,’ the voice informs. ‘I’m sorry, Hunter.’

  ‘Typical,’ I say, forcing a laugh. ‘She never picks up the phone when it’s important. Tell her for me, will you? Tell her I… Tell her…’

  I struggle to find the words to say my goodbye.

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ the voice says, and I can hear the sadness and devastation.

  My final thoughts are of my family; my brother, my mother, and of course, Kat.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper to them, knowing they will never hear my last words.

  The beastly roar grows deeper, louder, as the creature paces towards me. It is preparing for the kill.

  I will not fall without a fight.

  ‘Come on then!’ I urge, but it only roars again, as if playing some kind of game. ‘Come on!’ I yell.

  A deep, menacing voice calls out to me from the shadows. It echoes throughout the chamber, giving it an unearthly quality. ‘You are right, my friend. You are not alone.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  I am answered by the sudden flare of blue flames at the centre of the chamber. They grow with astonishing speed, rising high and filling the cavern, surrounding me.

  ‘You are not alone,’ the voice states. ‘You are never alone.’

  The flames grow closer, as if reaching for me; their heat licks my skin. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

  ‘I sense it. Your past, your tragedy.’

  The blue flames surge towards me, engulfing me. All defined senses are lost as I scream in sheer agony.

  ‘HUNTER!’ the voice in my headset cries. ‘HUNTER!’

  2

  ADAM—Richmond, London, England

  My classmates are cheering me, ‘HUN-TER! HUN-TER! HUN-TER!’ as I pull myself up from the windows to the drainpipe and then to the top of
the building.

  Standing on the rooftop of the college, grin broad across my face, I raise a finger to my lips to hush the small crowd on the playing field. They don’t stop. Their cheers grow until I give up my protests and lift my arms high in triumph.

  My name is Adam Hunter, and I am a failing student at the Kett Sixth Form College, dreaming of a life beyond text books and classrooms. Sixteen years old, a week shy of my seventeenth birthday, and always daydreaming of escape and freedom. Handsome, with a perfect athletic build and a dazzling smile with dark spiked hair and blue eyes – that’s me. Modest too. Careless, reckless, always distracted; those are just some of the words used to describe me, and to be fair, they’re probably spot on.

  I stand and salute my adoring fans one last time before backing away from the edge. The smile is still at my lips but I can’t help it. The challenge has begun.

  I am wearing the usual jeans, ripped at the knees, a red hoodie, faded grey leather biker jacket, and old trainers, muddy and faded with use. I cross the roof, vaulting over all obstacles and then leap to the next building, unhindered by the effort needed, and fearless of the gap, height, and potential fall – and probably death. My friends call it parkour or free-running but I simply see it as making the world my own private playground.

  I drop out of sight as I see teachers pass the windows opposite to where I prowl the rooftops, lingering for a few seconds before rising again. The way is clear and my presence unnoticed.

  ‘Get the prize and get out,’ I say to myself, pulling the hood over my head, concealing part of my face in case of discovery or being captured by the CCTV cameras. ‘No worries.’

  One more time, I cross to another rooftop before nearing a skylight, popping its lock open with my trusty pen-knife – my father’s gift from long ago. I wait and listen for signs of discovery, but no alarm is raised. Opening the skylight as wide as it’ll go, I squeeze through and drop to the classroom below.

  As I fall, my jacket catches on a chair and sends it tumbling towards the floor. My reflexes are, thankfully, quick enough, catching the chair before it can crash to the ground and betray my location.

  ‘No worries,’ I whisper to myself in relief.

  Carefully, quietly, I put the chair down, but I hear an approaching voice from outside coming closer. Quickly, I duck down behind a desk as a teacher walks past the room. She speaks loudly on her mobile phone, complaining relentlessly about her terrible students and our misdeeds. I know the voice all too well; it belongs to Mrs Rhodes, known as ‘Spike’ to her pupils. Peering through the window, I see her; a tall woman, big, dolled up grey hair, and a damning stare that would terrify most. Not me though; I just find it funny and struggle not to break down in laughter each time she yells at me. Her hair is nearly all gone but for one solitary lock that won’t settle, no matter how much she tries to brush it down. Unsurprisingly, she hates the name.

  ‘…and the Hunter boy! He’s getting worse by the day. Nothing like his brother before him. They’re the sons of a teacher, did you know? Who would’ve thought he’d turn out like this! Mind, they’re often the worst.’

  My mother certainly knew, despite her best efforts. She is glad she never had to teach us, especially me.

  ‘Not only did he unscrew every nut and bolt in my chair so that it collapsed when I sat down today,’ she continues, ‘but I am certain it was him who broke into my cabinet, stole my test papers, and replaced those I was to hand out today with the answer copy. Unsurprisingly, they all scored a hundred percent!’

  I struggle not to laugh until Mrs Rhodes passes on.

  ‘Yeah, it was me,’ I whisper once out of earshot, grinning still. ‘Another bout of detention on its way, I guess.’

  Moving to the doorway of the classroom, I crouch again, looking down the deserted corridor. My mobile phone buzzes twice in my pocket and, making sure no one is approaching, I quickly look to its screen, two messages showing.

  Hurry up

  Duncan

  You’re running out of time

  Sara

  ‘Nothing like pressure,’ I say, returning the phone to my pocket.

  Checking the corridor one last time, I set out, running quickly and silently. I stop a few times, listening for approaching footsteps, and peer into classrooms, but just as I am nearing my destination, I see the door before me swing open. Spike emerges; she is still ranting on the phone. I dive towards the nearest set of lockers, pulling myself up and atop them, out of sight. I try not to move; the lockers creak under my weight.

  ‘…and he messed around with the presentation for my ten o’clock science class! Instead of the different categories of rocks, there were pictures of me on my beach holiday! I’ve never been so embarrassed and…and sickened in all my…’

  ‘Neither have we,’ I think, struggling again not to laugh. She disappears around the corner, her tirade unending.

  My phone buzzes with another text message.

  C’mon Hunter, hurry up!

  Everybody’s waiting

  Duncan

  Before I can put the phone away, it vibrates again, another message received.

  I’m guessing you don’t want your motorcycle kets back then? I wonder how much I can sell the bike for????? Sara

  Lowering down from the lockers, I move quickly along the corridor, nearing Mr Beckett’s classroom; my target. The man stands before the entrance, talking with another teacher I have not seen before. Mr Beckett’s untidy beard and creased clothes add to his tired, miserable appearance. He has a stern look on his face as always.

  ‘Wait here while I grab my lighter,’ he tells the other teacher.

  Mr Beckett raises his staff badge to the door handle, a fob activating the lock, the only way inside. As I wait, I pull a fresh green apple from my pocket. Mr Beckett takes no time at all, emerging quickly with lighter in hand. Once the two teachers begin to walk away, I roll the apple across the floor, wedging the door open just as it’s about to close. I smile with satisfaction.

  Running forward, I silently enter the room, heading straight over to Mr Beckett’s desk. I produce a set of keys from my pocket, a keychain image of Mr Beckett and his wife and children and the teacher’s car keys are attached.

  ‘Next time you confiscate someone’s football, keep a better eye on the keys in your jacket pocket,’ I murmur, before unlocking the desk drawer. I could’ve picked the lock on the desk easily enough – a skill my brother taught me years ago – but it was much more challenging and fun to borrow them from Mr Beckett as he berated me. Always that extra challenge.

  Inside the desk drawers are mobile phones, iPads, and a dozen other confiscated items from my classmates. In the deepest drawer at the bottom is a football – Duncan’s football – but there is also one more item of note, one that I can’t forget. A silver chain with a rose pendant. Hurrying, not knowing how much time I have left, I return all the items to the desks of their owners until I hear the door handle turn.

  ‘Just got to get my keys!’ Mr Beckett calls as he enters the classroom.

  Ducking beneath the tables and desks, I run unseen, sliding through the now ajar doorway and leaping through the open window on the far side of the corridor. I fall amongst bushes, tumbling through the foliage with branches whipping my body and face until I hit the ground. Rolling as I land, the impact is still enough to drive the air from my lungs. Coughing and gasping for air, I stagger up and jog on, football still in my arms.

  I head towards the playing field but I am brought to a sudden stop as three figures emerge before me. I know them; guys from my class. Thick, stupid, always eager to fight and steal – this is far from our first run in. I have no idea why they are still in college; their grades are as bad as their stench. There has been a rivalry between their leader, Shane, and I for years. It’s been going on since way back to primary school. I can’t even remember how it all began – probably over a girl.

  ‘Hey, Hunter,’ Shane, the tallest and broadest of them says. ‘I was hoping we’d run
into you. Time we had a little chat. What you got there for us?’

  Tracking his eyes, I see he is looking at the thread of necklace looping out of my pocket. In the sunlight it is shining brightly.

  ‘Nothing for you morons,’ I say, hiding the silver chain away.

  ‘Oh, I think you’re wrong,’ the tall and stick-thin Frazer replies, face marked with acne and the odour of cigarettes about him.

  ‘How’s the head?’ I ask with a grin, seeing the token of our last chat, a large bruise and bump above his right eye.

  ‘I owe you big time for this,’ he growls, pointing to his bruises.

  ‘We all do,’ adds the third of their group, the short and dim-witted Jamie.

  ‘Do you guys really want to do this again?’ I ask as they circle me. ‘I mean, all this time you have only had yourselves to blame.’

  ‘We owe you,’ Shane says, hands becoming fists.

  ‘C’mon, lads,’ I say with a broad, unwavering smile. ‘Three on one, that’s not exactly fair. You need more guys!’

  ‘Enough talk!’ Jamie roars, fist flying towards me.

  Dropping the football, I block the first and second punch until Frazer joins the assault, kicking at me and catching me with a fist, grazing my cheek. I twist away, hammering a punch into Frazer’s stomach and catching him under the jaw just as Jamie charges in. I step aside with ease, allowing Jamie to thunder past me with his momentum. I kick the back of his leg, pushing him as he falls straight into Frazer, both crashing to the ground.