A Hunter and His Legion (The Praetorian Series Book 3)

by Edward Crichton

  She sniffed, spun away, and ran toward her tent. I let her go without another word, watching as she found the small tent she’d occupied by herself these past few months. Nothing else and no one else came to my attention as I stared unblinkingly in her direction, so when it became painfully obvious that I was alone again, I glanced back at my friends, thinking that perhaps they would come join me for some wine in celebration of our victory, but they weren’t anywhere to be found either.

  I frowned as I pushed down my feeling of loneliness to join the anger and jealousy that already occupied the emotional storage unit I’d constructed within my ribcage. As it joined together with the others, the pressure in my chest only increased, and I staggered a bit as I walked back to my praetorium, the pressure I felt there a distracting but familiar sensation. It was a combination of many I felt quite often, as I imagined everyone else in the universe did as well, but never had I felt it as intensely as I did now.

  It was a nervous feeling, like the budding kind I would experience back in high school as waited for the results of a test I’d forgotten to study for.

  It pressed against my ribcage like the eternal dread of a first date, a feeling that grew and grew as the date wore on in anticipation of a first kiss.

  It hit suddenly deep inside me like when the expectation for bad news was confirmed, like when I’d returned a call from Artie all those years ago, learning that not only had I been unaware of my mother’s passing while in the field, but that I had also missed her funeral.

  It also left my heart feeling just as empty as it did when a beloved character was unexpectedly killed from a favorite TV show, never to return again and for reasons not quite clear.

  What I felt now were pieces of each of these moments and so many more, acting as a degenerative sickness that slowly abated my soul, all rolled up into one massive bout of emotion that threatened to burst through my upper body like a grenade lodged between my lungs. I doubled over at its intensity and fell into my tent, knowing that Helena would notice my discomfort and come to my aid, ready and willing to soothe away every ache and pain like she always did.

  But when I collapsed to the ground, no help came.

  The test did not magically have a B- on it.

  The date did not end with a kiss, not even on the cheek.

  The phone call did not end with shared tears that allowed my sister and me to console each other.

  The TV show did not bring that character back from the dead, even in a dream sequence.

  And Helena did not come to my side to take the pain away.

  I was alone, and the pain lingered.

  I clenched my teeth and forced myself to crawl to my cot. It seemed to take hours, but eventually, I found myself atop my wonderfully soft bed, sweating bullets and unable to shake the chills that stabbed at me like icicles at the same time. Every other time I’d come to this bed since setting out from Camulodunum, I’d found some level of comfort, but not tonight. Tonight, the pain was only intensifying, driving my mind through a maelstrom of negativity.

  It was almost too much to contain in my chest, as it wasn’t nearly big enough, but then another feeling snuck its way into my mind, something soothing, something calming. It was coming from the side of my bed, so I rolled to the right and fell from the low perch, not knowing what I was doing or caring what would happen. I simply craved relief, something to take the pain away, and I found it in my footlocker. I didn’t know who had blessed it with such healing properties, but someone obviously had, because as I wrapped my arms around it and laid my head upon its lid, I felt immediately better. All the sorrow and torment my body and mind had felt was gone. Like a wondrous drug that could take away all pain, I’d found my salvation.

  I was asleep seconds later, but in an odd way.

  Instead of the peace that normally accompanied sleep’s sweet embrace, I drifted off with a billion thoughts surging through my mind, over and over, with trillions of answers and possibilities. It was enough to drive a man insane, but it only comforted me now as I finally fell asleep, too exhausted to realize that someone had left a blue tinted flashlight aimed directly at my face.

  VIII

  Anglesey

  Western Britannia

  December, 42 A.D.

  It had been two days since Helena and Santino initiated Operation: Dissuade the Shit out of Them, and we were now deep into modern day Wales, only a day out from the Isle of Mona. In that time, little of consequence had happened, and we had made excellent progress through bare and frozen but dense forests. More importantly, I no longer felt bogged down by inane thoughts out of my control, and I found myself focused. Even though I spent my nights alone now, Vincent no longer attended my nightly mission briefings, and most of my team seemed to go out of their way to avoid me, I felt peaceful, almost happy. Only at night did I find my mind whirring out of control, but slumber came easily now and I would awake more refreshed than ever.

  It was a good feeling, one I didn’t want to see interrupted.

  We hadn’t yet made any further contact with the indigenous population, but our Celtic shadow force still paced us at a distance. They seemed cautious now, sending fewer of their forces into visual range, apparently more inclined to simply watch instead of challenge us. It left many uneasy just knowing they were out there, but it took more than a few thousand barbarians to spook the Romans, and I, too, was unconcerned.

  It was late in the day as I rode atop Felix near the vanguard of our formation, alone and cold, as had become the norm recently, but nothing clouded my mind besides our destination. And even then, I was less worried about the possibilities of what could happen there, and was more focused instead on simply getting there.

  Which was when Wang rode up from the rear of our formation to ride with me.

  I looked at him in surprise and offered him a nod in greeting which was returned in kind, but our interaction ended there, so I ignored him and shifted my attention back to the path before us.

  Two minutes later, Wang finally turned to me. “Something on your mind, mate?”

  “Actually…” I said, without turning. “No, nothing in particular.”

  “Really?” He asked.

  “I know,” I replied. “It’s pretty nice not to have any thoughts in my head. This must be how the rest of you people live your lives…”

  Wang adjusted his seat, and returned his attention forward. “I’ve actually had quite a bit to think about lately.”

  “Wait…” I said, confused, “…you’re coming to me to talk about you?”

  “Blimey, it’s right embarrassing, but yes.”

  “Interesting,” I said, legitimately so. “Been thinking about the fight a few days ago?”

  “No,” he replied. “Archer deserved it for sure, even if it was bloody stupid of you, but no, I’ve been thinking about home mostly. Not about how to get home, but memories of home, my parents, Cardiff, school friends, my chums in the SAS. Even thoughts of fighting a real war instead of the bloody mess we’ve gotten ourselves into here make me feel better, and even remembering McDougal brings on happy memories.”

  I frowned at the mention of our one-time, and far too brief, commanding officer who had died before even reaching Ancient Rome. His death had been my fault, but unlike everything else that was my fault, I was at peace with what had happened to him. There were far too many other deaths for me to feel responsible for, and his had come on the field of battle during an operation that had been sanctioned by my commanding officers in a theatre of war openly engaged against me.

  Unfortunately, the rules were different now.

  “So being here has been melancholic for you then, is that it?” I asked.

  He nodded. “I don’t know what your deal is these days, but at least you’re still sharp. I’ll give you that.”

  “I guess I’ll take it.”

  “Take it if you will,” Wang said, without humor, “but you are right. There’s something about Anglesey that’s always bothered me, only I d
idn’t really remember until recently.”

  “So what’s on your mind then?”

  He looked over his shoulder, left and then right. “This place doesn’t feel that different from home really. Oh, it’s missing the roads and towns and pubs, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were taking a stroll through the country back home.”

  “Sounds nice actually.”

  “Aye, it is,” he confirmed, “but I didn’t come here to waffle on about memories of home.” He fidgeted atop his horse to find a more comfortable sitting position, which was in turn making me feel the opposite. When he was successful, he turned back to me. “Ever since Alexandria, I’ve been thinking about some looney stuff…”

  “Just fucking tell me, Wang!” I said, exasperated that it was taking him so long to get to the point.

  “Crikey Moses, Hunter, give me a moment. I thought you were supposed to be the patient one…”

  “What little patience I have left is waning quickly, believe me.”

  Wang sighed. “Well, I’d better start then, because I won’t blame you for losing it completely once I’m done. It’s just that ever since Rumella told us to come here, to Britain, to Wales, I’ve been thinking a lot about things like magic, time travel, orbs, Druids, fairy tales, epic quests to save the world… it’s all pretty fantastical rubbish but believe me, me mum will believe every detail of all this when I get back to tell her about it.”

  I looked at him, suddenly curious. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “You know my family history,” he said, “about me dad’s parents coming from China after The Great Revolution and him marrying a local lass and all that, but when I say local, I mean her family is old local. Her family’s been in Wales since… well, now, I suppose. I wouldn’t be surprised if I ran into some ancestor of mine, actually.”

  I didn’t bother explaining to him that the chances of that were surprisingly high.

  He laughed for a second. “Me mum’s dad never seemed happy that she married a Chinaman, as he always called me dad, but it turned into more of a loving nickname as they never fought, and granddad always spoiled the knickers off me. I love that man. He never got along with me dad’s dad though. I think the language barrier was just too much for him.”

  I actually found myself smiling, always finding family drama that wasn’t my own humorous. Family dynamics and how members of extended families and in-laws treated each other had always been fascinating to me. Both sets of my grandparents had died well before I was even in middle school, and my own family life had never been particularly enjoyable, so I’d never really gotten to experience the pangs of having a big family on my own.

  “Sorry, Hunter, didn’t mean to go off on a tangent like that.”

  “So that’s what it feels like,” I said, feeling surprisingly cheerful in the moment.

  “Aye, now you know how the rest of us poor nutters feel most of the time.”

  “Just get to the point,” I ordered.

  “Crikey, now you sound like Helena,” he said, cutting off my retort with a smirk, “but you’re right. As I was saying, me lovely mum’s family has been in Wales forever, and as you may know, many Welsh are a superstitious folk. Some do all sorts of nutty things, and me mum was very into it. Told me lots of stories as a lad. Most were more terrifying than spooky-fun like your American fairy tales. Was the Brothers Grimm shit they were, extra grim, and for some reason they always had a lot of fairies in them…”

  “Seriously, Wang. Cut the shit. What are you trying to say?”

  “Bloody Christ, Hunter, I’m just saying that I always thought mum was off her trolley about all that stuff! She was right barmy about it, I thought.”

  “For crying out loud, Wang, I left my ridiculous British slang dictionary back in the 21st century! Speak. Real. English!”

  He fidgeted in his saddle again, seeming just as annoyed with me as I was with him.

  “She seemed nuts, okay?” He asked in his best American accent, which sounded distinctly Southern. “She was convinced the local folklore was real. She thought Wales in particular had some legitimate connections with magic and the supernatural. She thought Wales actually was the home of fairies!”

  “So what’s your point?” I asked, my patience and curiosity returning.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure yet, Hunter, I’m not. All I know is that we should be careful. I can’t shake this feeling that we’ve entered into some unknown realm of necromancy. I think that was a word me mum used once. Black magic maybe. Something evil. I know you’re going to want to grill these Druids for information, but I don’t know if that’s so wise. You might not like what you learn.”

  I chuckled. “Thanks for the warning, James, but unless we run into a three headed giant, a fire breathing dragon, or hot chicks in sexy nerd-envisioned armor that can cast level twelve frost spells, I think we’ll be just fine.”

  “I wouldn’t joke about that, Hunter. I wouldn’t. No, mate, I would not.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I snapped, annoyed again.

  The last thing I needed right now was talk of magic and fairies and shit like that. There was no need to complicate things any more than they already were, and there was certainly no need to throw in more challenges to overcome. I really couldn’t deal with a fight against a dragon right now. I really couldn’t. And if we encountered a troll or an elf or a fairy or a demon or a wizard… I truly was bound to go off my own trolley.

  ***

  The next day, I stood with my bootless feet in the water that made up the narrow straight that separated mainland Wales from the Isle of Mona. The distance between shores was not that great, and the great expanse of the island was laid out before me like a large, flat chunk of earth that looked like it had been gently lowered into the water by some ancient mythological hero. Judging distances was something I was good at thanks to my sniper training, and it took me no more than a few seconds to determine that the opposing shore was only four hundred and twenty five meters away.

  I turned to Wang who stood beside me. “So, have you ever been here before?”

  “Once,” he answered. “When I was a lad. No more than nine, and thought the place was right creepy. It’s flatter and emptier than Santino’s personality, and even back home the area was very sparse and not very developed. Lots of sheep. Even a small city like Cambridge probably had twice the population of the entire island.”

  I looked at the water and immediately felt I could easily swim across it, even though the current seemed rather choppy.

  Wang noticed my scrutiny and pointed out over the water. “I wouldn’t think about it, mate. The current is worse than it looks. I remembered seeing whirlpools in the straight as a kid, and dad told me that they were more common than most would think here. Besides, the water is bloody freezing, so I’d advise you to step out it, you git.”

  I looked down at my feet, noticing for the first time since I’d stepped in that they had gone numb. I hadn’t even noticed the cold when I’d first slipped into the water, but I stepped out and sat on the shore so that I could more easily dry them off.

  “You’re risking hypothermia or frostbite if you keep that up,” Wang said.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, as I started the process of tying my left boot, jutting my chin in the direction of the island. “How big would you say the island is anyway?”

  “Not big. We could probably walk to the end and back again before the week is out.”

  I nodded. “Good to know.” I switched to my other foot and looked up at Wang again. “Anything else you want to tell me about this island? What is it that’s got you so spooked?”

  Wang looked away again but said nothing, and I rolled my eyes at his brooding.

  But Wang wasn’t the only guy spooked around here. I’d only noticed Vincent’s displeasure at being in the area yesterday, after we’d crossed the vast mountain range that helped conceal the island from the mainland. I would often catch him and Wang talking together about top
ics they hadn’t shared with me, and I’d constantly seen Vincent looking over his shoulders or snapping his head around at an odd sound. Wang too.

  What was it about this island that had them acting like frightened cub scouts telling scary stories around a camp fire?

  I had no idea, and that was part of the problem. I hated not knowing something when someone else did. All I knew about the Isle of Mona was that it had been a bastion of Druidic resistance against the Romans that had been wiped out because they’d been so feared. As for the Druids, I wasn’t quite sure what the big deal was. While legends tell that they’d once possessed mystical powers to manipulate nature, it was pretty clear that by Roman times – these times – they were nothing more than spiritual, tribal, and economic leaders.

  The historian in me remembered that there was certainly the chance that modern scholars knew far less about Druids than was actual reality, since Druids had been practitioners of an oral tradition, much like the Greeks in Homer’s time, and hadn’t recorded their histories and stories by writing them down, so with their demise came the loss of all their history and tradition as well.

  Vincent had once told me that those in the modern age associated what they thought of as “druids” with a seventeenth or eighteenth century romanticized version of the group, and that version had very little, if anything, to do with their ancient precursors, but it was heavily assumed that they were a very naturalistic society, worshiping gods associated with the Earth and nature. While it was certainly possible that the Romans, in their lust to eliminate all aspects of Druidic culture, had purposefully omitted the details of their supernatural abilities, I couldn’t yet bring myself to accept the idea that Druids had ever had any power worth censoring at all.

  Still… there was the orb to think about. Hence the possibility.

  Finished with my boots, I held a hand up to Wang so that he could help me up, but he didn’t seem to notice. I grumbled and climbed to my feet, and took a step forward to stand beside my quiet companion and looked out at the island.