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

by Edward Crichton

  It was all becoming too much, and I rubbed my temples to try and soothe the pain that was growing in my mind. It had nothing to do with the orb, just simple fatigue and the stress and annoyance of a bunch of bickering friends too wrapped up in their own thoughts to tackle the real problem.

  “Enough!” I yelled, literally at the top of my lungs.

  Conversations died down all around me and faces turned to regard me. I looked at each and every one of them, taking my time before moving on to the next, trying to instill in them the idea that there was only one person who had actually met Merlin, and only one person who had seen and understood everything.

  That person was me.

  “Enough,” I repeated, calmly this time. “Every one of your discussions is moot. Galba is going to take us in and we’re just going to relax for a while.”

  “Unacceptable!” Agrippina snapped.

  “We won’t let him take you away from us,” I assured. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re with us now. You’re more than welcome to sit on the sidelines too.”

  She tightened her arms around her chest and nodded, but she did not look happy.

  “I’m surprised at your decision, Jacob,” Vincent said. “I didn’t think you’d be so willing to surrender. Especially when we’re so close now.”

  I grinned triumphantly, raising a hand in Cuyler’s direction. “Gunny there asked a pretty good question. How do we find the red orb? Well, I’m not exactly sure, but I know where to start. Any guesses?”

  There were none.

  “Rome,” I said.

  Vincent smiled. “Ah.”

  I dipped my head, but Agrippina looked even more frustrated. “Were you baiting him from the beginning then?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all, but it was a good assumption that he’d simply take us back to Rome since he needs to go there anyway if he’s going to bring us to trial. Galba’s a lot of things, but unpredictable he is not.”

  “It seems you weigh the risk placed on my life quite lightly in your decisions,” she accused.

  “After everything you’ve done to us, do you blame him?” Vincent asked steadily, a surprising rebuke from the normally understanding man.

  Agrippina stared icily at him, but her gaze didn’t linger long. With a twirl of her cloak she retreated from our small circle and back to her tent.

  “Why do dramatic exits always make me nervous?” Wang asked.

  It was a good question. One I should take to heart. Agrippina’s done a lot in recent time to gain some trust in us, but it was risky to assume she was completely without ulterior motivations.

  I heard Vincent take in a deep breath, and I turned to him.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “All this just seems a bit convenient, does it not?”

  I smiled. “I said the same thing to Merlin. Deus ex machina, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Deus ex what?” Santino asked.

  “It means ‘god from the machine,’” Vincent explained. “An old Greek term, but also a literary plot device that describes something exceedingly convenient that happens to solve a seemingly unsolvable problem, usually in a contrived or vague way.”

  Santino smiled too. “Ah, well that sounds about right then.”

  “Yeah, but there are no writers here to back us into the proverbial corner,” I mentioned. “All this Merlin stuff may seem convenient, but I’m willing to bet there’s more to his story than he let on, and that it would be best to expect anything. Even now. Especially now.”

  “Sound thinking, Jacob,” Bordeaux said, his first words since returning to camp.

  I nodded to him, but my thoughts strayed back to Agrippina. I sympathized with her reticence over our newfound peace with Galba, but I felt appeasing her could wait for now. I was too exhausted to think about it anyway. I hadn’t had a moment to myself since returning from my time with Merlin, and I was exhausted. I may have been immobile and unconscious for the last month, but that didn’t mean I’d spent that time in a restive state. Anything but, it seemed, and as Agrippina finally disappeared behind a row of tents, I found myself about ready to collapse. My head grew light and empty, entering a preparatory state for sleep’s swift arrival.

  As though accepting this fate, my knees grew weak and my eyes closed on their own, and I knew I’d be asleep well before I hit the ground. In most moments when I felt as I did now, I was often scared or angry, aware that in the instances when consciousness was forcibly taken from me, it was because of some outside and often belligerent source. But not this time. This time I was simply collapsing from sheer exhaustion brought on by the most intense, revealing, and interesting episode of my entire life.

  Everything seemed right in that moment, and although I could hear Artie’s voice screaming my name as I began my fall to the snow, I knew I’d be okay. I’d probably sleep for a week, awaking somewhere in southern Britain, carried on a liter or pulled in a wagon through the tough terrain that would soon become a mud laden nightmare as spring rolled in.

  I was okay with that. Wang would pronounce me all right. Just sleeping. Helena would accept that and she’d grow stronger as she watched me sleep, knowing that when I awoke I would feel rejuvenated and better than ever, and with that shared strength we would experience the birth of our son, and feel all the overwhelming joy that must come with such a moment.

  My heart soared at the thought as my body fell, and I smiled, but then my head hit the snow and I was out.

  ***

  I awoke after what seemed like seconds of sleep.

  I felt neither rested nor revitalized.

  In fact, I think the technical term was: shit.

  I felt like shit.

  But at least I was warm and dry, although it was also dark and noisy. I struggled to open my eyes, and when I finally did, I discovered that I was alone in a tent and bundled up in a blanket like I was encased in a sleeping bag. With a slight struggle, I worked myself free and pushed myself up into a sitting position. Pain shot through my forehead at the movement, and the true shittiness of how I felt started sinking in.

  I tried to force away the pain but it seemed an impossible task, so I squinted through glassy eyes and tried to ascertain what was going on. But no details emerged from my inspection. I was in an empty, dark space – not unlike the anteroom in Merlin’s realm of existence, the black bit of limbo that had existed just behind his front door, and my immediate assumption was that he had somehow brought me back to his cottage for some reason.

  “Merlin?” I called out, hoping to see him again.

  But my words met nothing but silence.

  I grew concerned in that moment, and forced myself to swing my legs over the side of the bed and look toward what I assumed was the tent’s exit, becoming more and more aware of the sounds and noises around me.

  There was a commotion outside. Something was going on.

  I hopped to the floor and stumbled my way toward the exit. It was quite an exertion just to do that, and I found myself panting from a lack of breath at the completion of even such a simple task. I paused to take in a few breaths of air, settled myself, and pushed through the tent and into the outside world.

  When I emerged I saw a camp full of individuals preparing for war.

  They ran to and fro, gathering equipment, weaponry, and armor. Superiors barked orders and underlings did as they were bidden.

  Except the individuals before me weren’t people.

  They were puppets.

  I dropped my hands to my knees and squeezed my eyes shut, jerking my head left and then right. I opened my eyes and the world went back to normal. The puppets were gone, replaced by their true human forms. I let out a deep sigh of relief, no longer having any desire to return to Merlin’s House of Oddities, Horrors, and Fuck You’s.

  “Jacob!” The voice came from my left, and I looked to see Vincent running toward me wearing his full combat kit.

  “What happene
d?” I called out as he approached.

  “You collapsed. Wang said you seemed fine, just sleeping, so we…”

  “No Vincent,” I said with a shake of my head, lifting a hand and gesturing out toward the camp. “What’s going on? How long was I out? Did we miss Galba’s deadline or something?”

  Vincent stared at me with wide, sleepy eyes of his own. “No, Jacob. We put you in that tent forty minutes ago and this has nothing to do with Galba. He’s under attack by a local army. A big one.”

  “Well that’s just great,” I muttered. Just when I felt about as horrible as I could possibly feel, it was time to suit up again and get my hands dirty. I turned back to Vincent. “What are our people doing?”

  “Galba already rode up to our gates under a flag of truce,” Vincent explained. “The army out there is vast and he requires our help. I didn’t think he was willing to change the terms of our agreement if we helped him, but I also didn’t think it would matter if we were all dead, so I agreed to help. Stryker, Brewster, Santino, and Bordeaux are already in the trenches with Galba’s army. Cuyler and a few Praetorians are scrambling to erect a higher shooting platform for him.”

  I nodded my head approvingly. “Good thinking. Any show of good faith we can achieve with Galba will go a long way.” I paused and thought for a second. “Where’s Archer?”

  “I don’t know,” Vincent replied. “He left after you collapsed and no one’s seen him since.

  “What about Wang?”

  Vincent hesitated. “He’s… with Helena.”

  I took an instinctual step forward. “Is she…”

  “I believe she is fine,” Vincent soothed, “but until the wounded come in, Wang thought it best if he stay with her. She’s been through a lot.”

  “She definitely has,” I agreed. “And Artie?”

  “Safe in her tent,” Vincent said quickly, finding it easier, as it always was, to give good news rather than bad.

  “Good,” I said as I started moving off. “Where’s my gear?”

  “Do you think that’s such a good idea?” Vincent asked as he jogged to catch up. “You’ve been through a lot. I know the orb is out of range, but you’re exhausted and weak. You wouldn’t be doing Helena any good by getting yourself killed now.”

  I stopped mid step. The man made a good point.

  “All right, fine,” I said as I pushed into motion again. “I’ll stay out of the fighting, but I still need my rifle and a few mags.”

  “Jacob, your…”

  I winced and stopped moving again, but then forced myself to keep going. I’d forgotten about Penelope, and the memory still cut deeply. It was just the first in what I knew would be a series of memories that would surface and haunt me one day.

  Vincent and I ducked into the small tent we used as our armory. I found my MOLLE vest and my Sig P220, and strapped everything together and secured pistol magazines to my vest, feeling slightly better with every motion. When I was finished, I gave myself one last pat down to ensure everything was secure before Vincent and I stepped out of the tent and took off.

  We passed through the porta praetoria, and were once again confronted with a vast open space between us and Galba’s engulfing trench system. We couldn’t see anything of our attackers yet, but we could hear the sounds of engagements all along the lines, accompanied occasionally by the sharp staccato sound of rifle fire. It was a chaotic mess as legionnaires and Praetorians scattered haphazardly, with what seemed like little thought to their overall battle strategy.

  Vincent and I found Bordeaux and Brewster minutes later holed up in a small foxhole carved out of the side of the trench. Legionnaires ran back and forth and many scrambled up and out of the trench to join others beyond the defensive system. It was then that I noticed the engaged enemy, and how close they already seemed. I had no idea how they’d pushed through the legions’ lines so quickly, especially with leaders like Galba and Fabius in charge.

  The edge of the trench was just steps away, growing closer with every long stride I took. When I was a few steps out, I dropped onto my legs and slid into the trench like a base runner trying to steal second. I dropped a few feet and landed ungracefully in a crouch but when I tried to rise, my skull felt like it was made of concrete and I struggled to stand. I reached up and held my head in both hands, forcing myself to straighten slowly with my eyes closed.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard Vincent’s voice from beside me. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” I said, batting it away and opening my eyes. My vision swirled in a swarm of colors but eventually it settled and everything seemed back to normal. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Bordeaux and Brewster weren’t far, but they hadn’t yet noticed our arrival. The two were a humorous mismatched pair with Bordeaux tall and massive and Brewster easily the smallest person in our group, but she blazed away with her rifle like any good operator would, sending wave after wave of deadly lead down range and toward targets of opportunity.

  “Jeanne!” I yelled with my hands cupped around my mouth, hoping to catch his attention around the blare of their rifles and all the other noises associated with war. He looked up and around as though he were searching for an annoying insect buzzing around his head, but then he caught sight of us and waved us over.

  Vincent and I arrived seconds later and leaned up against the earthworks, and I risked a peek over the wall to get a view of the battle, barely aware of the falling spears and arrows that dropped like fat rain drops all around me. No more than thirty meters away was a thin line of legionnaires doing everything they could to keep the enemy back while the rest of Galba’s troops prepared their defenses. I could see angry Britons a plenty between the gaps in their lines, stretching from as far left as I could see to as far right, and I had no idea if we were surrounded or not.

  “What happened?” Vincent asked. “Why didn’t Galba have time to form up his lines outside the trench?”

  “No idea!” Brewster yelled as she popped up to fire again.

  Bordeaux was slightly more insightful. “We really don’t. When we arrived the Britons were already attacking, which was only when the Romans were finally able to push them out of the trenches and work on creating some kind of strategy.”

  I flicked my eyebrows up, impressed. It was rare to see an army of individuals from such a backward part of the world organize such a conducive fighting force, let alone one that seemed focused on attacking and killing and not simply showboating and taunting. Most barbarian hordes enjoyed the pregame part of battle too much to be particularly efficient.

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

  “No idea!” Brewster yelled again as she ducked under an incoming spear that landed a foot away and imbedded itself in the soft dirt behind her. Vincent plucked it from the earth and tossed it over the rim of the wall casually. Brewster stared at him with wide eyes, aware just how close she’d just come to biting it.

  “We need to regroup with Stryker and Santino,” Vincent suggested. “The six of us could lead a counter attack to punch a hole in their lines. It would be a good way to get legionnaires out of the trench and hitting the enemy’s flanks.

  “Do it!” Another voice called from beside us. I turned my body against the earthwork and saw Galba had snuck up behind me.

  I gave him a look of concern. “You had a pretty good chance to get rid of at least one of your problems right there”

  Galba frowned. “The last thing I want to do is kill you, Hunter. If you die, I’m still stuck with the rest of them.”

  “Good point,” I conceded, taking some comfort, deciding not to tell him about Artie for the time being.

  “Enact your plan,” Galba ordered. “I’ll detach a maniple to cover your flanks and send three cohorts to follow. This enemy is tenacious, a most unexpected encounter so far from the heart of it all. They were on us in seconds, with nary a word from my scouts, and with our attention focused on Agrippina’s camp, we were left unprepared. Find the Funny One a
nd his friend, and do what you do best.”

  “You’re going to miss us, Galba,” I said with a smirk. “Just admit it.”

  “By the gods, go!” Galba shouted with an upraised arm. “I said I didn’t want you dead but I’d have no problem taking a leg from you!”

  “Let’s go, Jacob,” Vincent ordered, gripping my arm with his hand.

  Galba’s eyes never left mine as Vincent pulled me away, but when he was beyond the range of my peripheral vision, I finally turned my head and focused on finding Santino and Stryker. We ran through the trench, dodging legionnaires, auxilia, Praetorians, and the occasional Briton who’d managed to penetrate the lines. After we’d traversed maybe a fourth of the trench’s circumference we finally came face to face with Santino and Stryker, who were running through the trench in our direction. It only took seconds before we came face to face.

  “It’s a good thing you guys weren’t running the other way!” I exclaimed, out of breath and sweating profusely. I leaned over and gripped my knees to catch my breath while Vincent placed his hand on my back.

  “Jacob, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m fine, I’m…”

  “You’ve got to go, Hunter!” Santino yelled, reaching out and grabbing my shoulders. He pulled me up and I groaned at the quick movement, feeling it in sore joints as well as my cloudy head this time.

  “Go where?” I asked.

  “To Helena!” He yelled, his face awash in concern, an odd expression I rarely saw from him.

  My mind sharpened at the name. “What happened?”

  “Don’t know! Wang radioed. Told us to find you. Just go!”

  I hesitated but felt my legs already carrying me toward the trench’s inner wall. My head was a storm of confusion as I listed toward it, trying to grope for the lip of the wall to pull myself up, but my hands slipped on the snowy bank and I stumbled to the ground. Not a second later, a pair of strong hands gripped me under my armpits and lifted me as easily as one would pick up a kitten. The hands deposited me on the ground above the trench and I turned and saw Bordeaux standing there, his eyes just as concerned as Santino’s.