The Ancient Order: A Bud Hutchins Supernatural Thriller (Bud Hutchins Supernatural Thrillers Book 1)

by JB Michaels

  “In good faith…Tiberius, your submission to Yeshua has borne down into your very vernacular. You will do as I command. Round up the fattest and most muscular Picts. Now!” Magnus had tired of Tiberius and of the situation. He had no other explanation other than massive men or war chariots driving the Roman soldiers into the ground. The governor would want to see that justice had been served with the execution of a few large Picts.

  Magnus walked with Tiberius down the hill to Michaela, the full complement of the century behind them. They did not lay their arms down. Their shields glowed in the morning light as they moved as one massive iron war machine down the hillside.

  The looks on the Pict warriors’ faces were tense. Some shook their heads. Others stood strong, loyally following their queen.

  “We are here as you asked, my warriors all,” Michaela said. “You may conduct your investigation here and now under these terms. The weapons are all here as well. Surely you can see no mace or hammer could effectively smash men into the earth.”

  “We wish to have the largest men step forward.” Magnus didn’t trust Tiberius to enact his orders.

  “You have eyes. You can simply ask the largest men you see as you walk down the line. I will no longer grant any more of your ridiculous requests.” Michaela stood strong in front of her men and before the Romans.

  “Tiberius. Do it.” Magnus nodded toward the pile of weapons behind Michaela.

  “Torchbearers!” Tiberius yelled to a small unit of legionaries, who brought out four freshly lit torches.

  “Do you value your weaponry?” Magnus pressed.

  “You would leave us defenseless,” Michaela observed.

  “I want all your largest and strongest men to come with me back to Britannia. From the looks of it, there aren’t very many.”

  “To face execution for an offense they are innocent of.”

  “Order them forward, or the weapons will be burned.” Magnus took a step closer and looked down at Michaela. Her short stature gave him a sense of superiority.

  Michaela walked right up to him and met his stare, with intensity and grit. The warrior queen refused to back down.

  Chapter Eleven

  The standoff did not last long. A rumbling bass distracted both Magnus and Michaela. They examined the horizon.

  “You will regret this treachery, witch.” Magnus unsheathed his sword.

  “This isn’t me. My warriors stand before you!” Michaela yelled as she readied her crossbow.

  Underneath his boots, Magnus could feel the steady rhythmic bass. “Horses.”

  “War chariots. The Iceni. Three of their men were burned. Their village is not far from here. I can speak with them.” Michaela looked to the top of the hill.

  Magnus did, too, looking over his men who dotted the hillside to the top.

  “Men. Turn and ready your shields!” Magnus ordered.

  The crest of the hill looked as if it had spewed arrows enough to cast a large shadow over the heart of the Roman century.

  “Cover!” Magnus yelled to his men.

  All one hundred Romans lifted their shields and formed a vast iron and wooden shell to defend against the volley of arrows. The pattering and smacking sounds of arrowheads on Roman shields filled the air.

  “To arms, warriors!” Michaela yelled.

  The three hundred Pict warriors ran to secure their weapons in the large pile. Many still wore their shields. Some fell to the ground in the scramble to procure a weapon. Any weapon.

  “Roman. They will most likely throw their javelins next, followed by their war chariots, and the Iceni have many. Have your men retreat into the village and regroup!” Michaela yelled.

  “I take no orders from you.” Magnus looked to the crest of the hill.

  Five bronze and white war chariots driven by wild-haired and dirty men took position, each at a spot to force chaos in the ranks of the Romans.

  “Your men will be slaughtered on the hillside. Move into the village! I have good relations with their king. They will not attack our village with the women and children inside!” Michaela yelled.

  The charioteers raised their javelins as if to signal, and again from the other side of the hill, a volley of javelins and arrows flew through the air. The Roman legionaries remained shielded. The javelins penetrated some of their shields, rendering them useless for the coming close quarters combat. The loud smacks of iron tips meeting wooden shields and cracking wood filled the air. The volley ceased. The charioteers lowered their javelins.

  “Magnus! They are about to charge with their chariots, and your angled position will result in slaughter!”

  Magnus looked up the hill at his men and the disadvantage Michaela had pointed out. He knew she was right in her tactical assessment.

  “Retreat, men! Into the village now! We shall choose our own battlefield!” Magnus ordered.

  “Retreat! Retreat!” Tiberius seconded the command.

  The century of troops marched down the hillside with shields still raised, covering their retreat, and moved away from the Iceni chariots atop the hill. The war chariot on the left-most side of the crest began to descend the hillside and give chase.

  The Pict warriors broke their lines and allowed the Romans to file into the center pathway of the village. Michaela waved her arms and ushered the Romans inside. She then ran with crossbow in hand to head off the charging chariot.

  “HALT! HALT!” she screamed at the Iceni charioteer. She aimed the crossbow, likely worried that her decision to shoot the bolt could mean all-out war with her neighboring tribe.

  Chapter Twelve

  Magnus found himself next to Michaela. He witnessed her steady aim, her resolve, and absolute calm under pressure as the charioteer screamed closer and closer to the village.

  “Merely a skirmisher. Don’t fire, Michaela. Don’t.” Magnus readied his spear.

  “If he is merely a skirmisher, why ready your spear?” Michaela commented while keeping her aim true.

  Screams rang out from behind them. The villagers scrambled. The Pict warriors ran into the village at every opening. Some heard the screams of their wives or husbands. Their children.

  Michaela kept watch on the charioteer who was only four meters away. The creaking of the wheels and pounding of horse hooves did little to comfort Magnus.

  “I do not wish to attack!” the Iceni aboard the throne of the chariot yelled.

  He turned the horses away from Magnus and Michaela and rode past them.

  “Something is coming! The trees! The trees!” The Iceni pointed with his javelin to the treetops at the rear perimeter of the village.

  Magnus looked to the trees. The tops of the great trees swayed and raged as if a great wind blew through the forest. Then audible cracks of tremendous tree trunks giving way to immense pressure bounced off the hill and into his ears. Something trampled the ancient forest.

  “No! No!” Michaela secured the crossbow to her back and pushed through the Roman legionaries and her own warriors.

  “Make way! Make way!” Magnus followed her.

  They pushed their way to the center of the village. The cries of a screaming boy made them turn their heads. The small child moved across the dirt path on his back. He moved quickly and unnaturally.

  “Something drags the boy!” Michaela ran to catch him.

  The boy moved faster and faster away from her.

  Magnus looked around. The father he saw earlier ran out of a straw hut. A sudden burst of blood spewed from his neck. He fell to the ground dead.

  More cries of children all around. More dragging. Another parent was felled by a force not visible to the naked eye. Bloodied parents and fear-stricken children were everywhere.

  A woman ran toward her infant. Magnus tried to stop her. Her abdomen began to bleed as if a sword had stabbed her.

  “Michaela! Stop! Don’t give chase! You will be killed!” Magnus yelled then ran himself. He shook his head, fully aware that he’d just done what he’d warned not to do.r />
  Michaela was up ahead near the smoky remains of the stable and chariot. All around him, the village’s children were dragged into the very forest whose trees buckled and fell to the leafy floor.

  Magnus kept his focus on Michaela. She fell to her knees. He hoped she hadn’t been killed like the others for fear of the safety of his men and to make sense of the horrendous situation. He wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge that his respect for her had grown.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Michaela, it is no use. The children cannot be saved now!” Magnus reached her.

  Michaela breathed heavily. She knelt on the ground and looked to the treetops. More trees fell directly in front of her. The children’s screams faded into the shaded darkness of the forest.

  “The ground shakes. We must move now! Out of the village!” Magnus helped Michaela to her feet.

  A monstrous roar emanated from the forest. A loud, high-pitched growl that raked the eardrums of Magnus.

  “We must clear away from the village! Move!” He pushed Michaela through the burnt wood of the stable.

  He turned around and looked at the vibrating ground. Massive indentations formed in the dirt between the forest and the village’s perimeter. Soon, straw filled the air. Rocks from the walls of the Pict huts became dislodged and sprayed and spiraled through the air.

  “Our men. Our men!” Michaela ran along the eastern perimeter. “Get out of the village! Get out of the village!”

  Some villagers knocked down walls and burst forth from the side of the village to safety. Not as many as there should have been. The massive invisible force of destruction continued its rampage. More straw. More stones. Wood splinters. Huts disappeared into bursting clouds of dust and rubble.

  A few Roman soldiers ran out. Magnus worried that most were trapped in the narrow pathways and chaos.

  “Form up! Form up!” Tiberius yelled, exercising futility, trying to command order in the chaos.

  “No! No! Tiberius! You can’t!” Magnus ran behind Michaela.

  Blood-curdling screams. The sound of crunching bone and intermittent yelling followed by abrupt muting terrorized Magnus.

  The death continued, followed by another monstrous roar. An invisible beast wreaked havoc. Magnus surmised it must have spawned from the depths of the underworld. He shook his head and prayed to the gods. The two leaders stood in abject shock, paralyzed by fear. Finally, the rumbling, invisible force stomped back to the forest, leaving the Pict village’s decimation in its wake.

  Michaela rested her hand on her chest for a few dedicated seconds before running to the village to look for any and all survivors. Magnus closely followed. The cries of villagers, warriors, and Romans filled the air. A wide swath of structural devastation ran through the middle of the village from the forest perimeter all the way to the front entrance at the bottom of the hill.

  Michaela stepped through the rubble of her home, and around her were dead villagers and most likely parents who had run to save their kids. Some were bloodied, others stomped into the ground like the Romans at the sanctuary.

  Several tears rolled down her face. The shock of the attack seemed to give way to desperate sadness.

  Magnus walked to the front of the village. Many of his soldiers were killed in similar fashion. Stomped and driven by an immensely heavy monster. He was far too upset to rationally count the dead. There were many dead Romans mixed with honorable Pict warriors. Many engagements the Roman centurion had fought in and emerged victorious. This was his first taste of actual defeat. He gripped the hair on the crest of his helmet.

  “Mag…” A familiar voice rang out from a group of four downed soldiers a few paces to the left of the main path as if they had nearly made their escape before suffering the same deadly trample as the others. Four cracked shields covered them.

  “…nus.”

  Magnus recognized the voice and cleared the shields from the pile.

  Tiberius lay with blood pouring from his mouth. His lower half had been covered with earth.

  “My dear friend.” Magnus knelt next to him.

  “Please take this…and grieve not for me, for Yeshua has saved me. I go now to his kingdom…” Tiberius shook as he handed Magnus a chain with a gold crucifix attached.

  Magnus held his hand.

  Tiberius coughed and more blood bubbled from his mouth.

  “Rest, Tiberius. Rest,” Magnus urged.

  “Acta non verba… Yeshua annuit coeptis,” Tiberius blurted before he was forever silenced. His wounds proved too much to bear.

  Magnus held his hand and the crucifix. Grief overwhelmed Magnus, and he took a deep breath to prevent the tears from falling on the face of his long-time friend and brother-in-arms. With his free hand, he shut Tiberius’s eyelids and silently wished him well in the afterlife.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Acta non verba: Deeds not words. Yeshua annuit coeptis: Yeshua favors our undertaking. The words struck Magnus in the most peculiar way. Of all the things to say, Tiberius had chosen to say those two phrases in his dying breath. Magnus grappled with the possible implication and assumption that Tiberius carefully chose those words to be heard by none other than he.

  Magnus desired not to leave his side. He felt a great deal of comfort being near Tiberius, even in death. In many ways, Tiberius represented a true partner in their long terms of military service. Tiberius smoothed out the rather rougher edges of Magnus’s style of command. Now he was gone. Magnus didn’t want to face the future’s uncertainty just yet.

  “Magnus. Magnus, we must regroup.” Michaela walked toward him.

  “I am aware.” Magnus kept his eyes to Tiberius.

  “The forest is vast. We must start the search for the children as soon as possible.” Michaela put her hand on his shoulder.

  “What of the dead? We can’t leave them in such an unpleasant state.”

  Michaela pointed to one of the Iceni charioteers who came to stand next to her. “My remaining villagers will help with the dead. The Iceni have agreed to forgive the death of their three men and have offered to help rebuild and protect the village. You still have about twenty men remaining. I am sorry. We must try and put a stop to this madness together.”

  “How do you suggest we find these children and defeat an invisible enemy?” Magnus released Tiberius’s hand and stood.

  “Malevolent spirits tend to get restless around this time. Samhain begins tonight. Still, I have never seen anything like this,” the charioteer said.

  “You speak as though spirits haunt this land regularly.”

  “Part of the reason you Romans built the wall…” the Iceni warrior said.

  “I told you, Magnus, there is much you have to learn about our land. I shall take you to our Druid. He is hidden in the forest. We shall seek his counsel.” Michaela turned and walked away.

  “Send a scout if you need our help in battle. Otherwise, we will do our best to protect our tribes here.” The Iceni warrior followed Michaela.

  Magnus looked once more at Tiberius and realized he was at the point of no return. The supernatural forces of mayhem had killed his friend and fellow Romans. Acta non verba. Deeds of cunning valor and superior strength had been imbued in his very bone marrow since joining the legion. Only action, not words, would avenge his fallen legionaries.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Miraculously, Romanus, Brayden, and Cassius survived the onslaught. Magnus marched with them and seventeen other legionaries in a search party along with eighteen Pict warriors led by Michaela. The waning afternoon sun provided the party with decent visibility. The colors of the leaves on the forest floor were orange, brown, and yellow. Some leaves still clung to the branches, but their stubborn hold would prove futile. Winter was coming. The chilled wind caused the hairs to rise on Magnus’s arms and legs.

  “Magnus! Come to the front. You will join me,” Michaela yelled.

  “Stay vigilant, Romans.” Magnus nodded his head at Brayden and the rest of the soldiers. He wal
ked to the front of the search party to join Michaela.

  “He is a peculiar fellow. I am warning you.” Michaela pointed to a cave opening that lay ahead.

  The orange glow and flicker of a torch showed the mouth of the Druid’s quarters. Standing tall next to the entrance of the cave was a large facsimile of a man made from sticks and another larger crucifix made from sticks as well. Perhaps, this Druid believed in Yeshua. Magnus rubbed Tiberius’s chain he wore around his neck.

  “The peculiar and strange is the norm here. Let’s go in.” Magnus pointed to the cave.

  “And showcasing the slaughter of animals and men alike in an arena is not strange or peculiar.” Michaela smiled.

  “The Circus Maximus is exceedingly entertaining, I assure you.”

  The pair of leaders entered the cave. The sound of hammering and water boiling grew louder the farther in they walked.

  “Bah! No! No! No!” An older male voice echoed off the rocky and sharp-edged walls.

  Michaela and Magnus were careful not to slip on the green moss that covered the ground. A slight turn to the right and the man’s quarters were visible. A mess would be giving it too much credit. The clutter of bowls, contraptions, and odd wooden toys overwhelmed Magnus’s senses. That and the smell of strong alcohol mixed with honey and oatmeal befuddled him.

  The robed man frantically stirred the contents of a large cauldron. “My queen! I knew it. I knew… I assure you, it will be ready and be sufficient and to your liking. Yes. Yes indeed.”

  “Hutch, we know who commands the real power in the land. We come to seek your counsel.” Michaela walked closer to him.

  “The brose is nearly ready. It will aid you in the fight.” Hutch continued his frantic stirring.

  “Hutch, we need to speak with you. What do you know of this invisible force?” Michaela put a hand on his to stop his incessant preparation.

  Hutch finally stopped then sat down on a wobbly, short stool.