Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion

by Edward Crichton

  “What?” I asked, already knowing what.

  “It’s just that I’ve always loved how romantic you are,” she said, kidding around, although she had a point. Romance was something I wished I was better at, but considering our current life circumstances, I could never find the energy or will to try.

  But I tried now as I caressed the soft skin of her leg gently with my hand, while Helena shifted contentedly in my arms, enjoying the touch. She hummed pleasingly to herself, so I shifted my hand lower on her leg, but then I touched a patch of slightly rougher skin and everything stopped. Even Helena’s excitement ceased as quickly as flipping a switch.

  I touched the scar on her leg gingerly, as if pressing against it too hard would somehow make it worse. I traced my finger along the length of it, moving my finger from the outside of her leg upwards along her hamstring. My finger stopped just below Helena’s backside, and I heard a sharp intake of breath from her as my fingers brushed against a more sensitive area. The scar was long and thick, and an obvious blemish upon her otherwise flawless leg, but it wasn’t necessarily the sight of it that disturbed me.

  I lowered my other hand from around her chest and lifted her shirt, peeking down to notice another pair of scars along her abdomen and lower back that mirrored each other but were no taller than a wallet. With a slow breath, I lowered her shirt and gently removed my arm from beneath her head. She didn’t try to stop me as I pulled away from her and carefully maneuvered myself into a sitting position so that I could hang my right arm over my raised knee. I sat there, contemplative, before Helena leaned up as well and wrapped an arm around me.

  She didn’t say anything, nor did she ever have to. She knew what to do. She rested her cheek against my arm and waited patiently, but something was different this time and she seemed to know it.

  She pulled away and rested her chin atop my shoulder. “You’re not upset?”

  I wasn’t actually. Nor, was I really all that sad. I was barely even introspective, just… contemplative.

  I nodded.

  “Feel any responsibility?” She asked.

  I shook my head, but with slightly less confidence.

  “That’s good,” she whispered. “I think that’s progress.”

  “Maybe,” I said just as quietly, feeling better already.

  Helena lifted her chin and kissed my shoulder, scooted away from me, and started searching for something, but couldn’t seem to locate what she was looking for.

  Finally, she turned to me. “Where are the orbs?”

  My eyes looked away guiltily. “Uh… I left them by the rock.”

  “Jacob…”

  “I’m sorry!” I said defensively. “I couldn’t help myself. You know what they do.”

  She nodded as she stood, all too aware.

  “Well, that’s it then,” she said. “You’re done with them.”

  I watched her walk past me. “Where are you…”

  “I’m going to have Jeanne destroy one and I’m going to hide the other!” She snapped at me, but not angrily. “I don’t know if they’re making you worse or what they’re doing to you exactly, but I’m not going to let you grow addicted to them, and we certainly don’t need two of them.” I rose as well, but she pushed me back down and pointed at me. “You stay here. I’ll be back.”

  I winced at a spike of pain in my side, but it wasn’t too bad, and looked at Helena as she looked at me. There was nothing to indicate she was angry at me in her eyes, just horribly, horribly concerned. She turned and left the tent, her long shirt that reached halfway to her knees billowing at the movement.

  When she was gone, I looked at my feet.

  Even without the orbs, I still felt constantly overwhelmed by just about everything. There was more on my mind than ever before, including Agrippina’s continued existence, the orbs themselves, Archer’s unexpected arrival with his troops, the drastic changes to Roman history, and so much more. Often, responsibility for Helena’s numerous injuries weighed on my mind just as heavily, but it seemed like I was beginning to lose that one. She’d never blamed me to begin with, and after five years, letting go of at least that responsibility felt good.

  I thought about all this is as I scooted to the back of the tent, and slowly lowered myself onto my back. I stretched my legs to work the kinks out, and rested there peacefully for a few minutes until an explosion off in the distance jolted me upright again.

  Like the last time we’d destroyed an orb, I wasted a moment of thought wondering if something would happen to us, but like last time, nothing did. Slowly, as my heart rate steadied, I lowered myself to the ground and raised my right arm to drape it across my forehead. I was quite comfortable in that position and felt myself growing sleepy.

  Helena returned sometime later, but I wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone. I’d just about drifted into sleep during that time, but it was the noise from the tent’s zipper being closed that roused me awake, and I lifted my head and peeked through droopy eyelids to see Helena standing before me, gazing down at me. She stood with her hands on her hips and looked at me without betraying her emotions, so I lowered my head back to my pillow of bunched up clothing.

  “Find a good place to hide it?” I asked.

  “Find a good place to hide what, Jacob?” She asked.

  I lifted my head again. “The o…”

  “A good place to hide… what, Jacob?” She asked insistently.

  I smiled. “Never mind then.”

  She smiled back and I found myself staring at her as she stood there in her loose shirt that looked more like an exceptionally short dress, the scar on her leg barely even noticeable now. She cocked her head coyly at my inspection and placed her hands on her thighs, and slid them up past her hips to rest along her waist.

  “See something you like, Lieutenant?” She asked.

  My grin widened. “Maybe.”

  She raised her chin and looked at me with smoldering eyes, and reached under her shirt with both hands before slowly lowering them, her shorts coming down with them. She kicked her shorts in my direction but I managed to dodge them. She took a step forward and lowered herself to the ground, positioning herself over me so that she could lean down and kiss me while I reached up to comb a hand through her hair.

  She pulled away and kissed my nose before gazing softly at me.

  “Feel better?” She asked.

  “You always did know how to cheer me up,” I answered. “Even if it’s doing something as simple as taking my mind off of a time traveling blue ball that also has the power to warp people’s minds and turn them into raving…”

  She interrupted me by lowering herself beside me on my good side and moving her hand to unbuckle my belt. She looked at me as she worked, her eyes filled with annoyance, but she didn’t stop what she was doing.

  I lowered my head back against my pillow and smiled. “Never mind. I’ll just shut up now. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

  II

  Paradoxes

  Outskirts of Damascus, Syria,

  October, 42 A.D.

  I woke the next morning as happy as I’d felt in a long time.

  The last time Helena and I had shared such intimacy without the world crashing down around us in one form or another had been that one wonderful night in Byzantium when we’d settled our differences and I’d given her an apology gift in the form of a necklace. Helena liked to think that had been the moment when we’d conceived our child as well, but she wasn’t quite sure. We’d had a few other opportunities to succeed at such a thing since then, but Helena, unlike me, had a bit of a romantic streak in her.

  I stretched out my arms around my head and extended my right arm to pull Helena in close, but all it met was air. I opened my eyes and noticed she was gone, and tried to think of where she could possibly be, but then I remembered she had LP/OP duty from six to one today. I glanced at my watch and noticed with wide eyes that it was almost noon. I bolted upright as quickly as my damaged flank would allow me and got
dressed.

  I found my favorite pair of smiley faced boxer shorts first and gave them a quick sniff. They smelled fine enough, so I slipped them on before retrieving my mulitcam patterned combat fatigues and stepped into those as well. Lastly, I clipped on my web belt that held my pistol’s thigh holster and secured that around my leg. Deciding I didn’t really need a shirt, and since I couldn’t immediately see one anyway, I retrieved my pistol, slipped it into place, and stepped out into the late morning sun.

  It was a hot morning, and the sun glared brilliantly from high above. I held out an arm to shield my eyes as I allowed them to grow accustomed to its intensity, and reached into a pants pocket in the hope that I’d left my glacier style sunglasses, complete with side shields, there. As luck would have it, I had, and I slipped them on and surveyed the camp. Most everyone seemed out and about and doing something, although Santino was missing, probably still asleep after his late night/early morning QRF duty, and Bordeaux and Madrina were missing as well. I noticed Helena off to my right, a few dozen meters away from our horseshoe shaped camp, situated atop a small hill. She had a pair of binoculars fixed to her eyes as she glassed the horizon, her DSR-1 sniper rifle lying across her body in her lap.

  She seemed focused so I didn’t bother her, and made my way to the center of the camp and its central fire. Arrayed around it were Vincent, Titus, Patricia Martin, TJ Stryker, Gaius, Marcus, Archer, and Artie. Georgia Brewster, who was rarely seen in Stryker’s company, was laying out on a blanket near her tent, Alex Cuyler was on QRF duty, and Wang was off to the side, cleaning his medical equipment.

  My stomach grumbled as I inspected our camp, so I made my way toward the fire in the hope of finding food. I took a seat next to Vincent and he patted my shoulder warmly in greeting with his remaining hand. His left arm from the elbow down had been lost during the Battle for Rome over four years ago, but he’d never lamented its loss nor acted like he deserved sympathy. He’d simply adapted and grown accustomed to his limited mobility and moved on.

  I nodded in greeting and offered his stepson a nod as well.

  “How’s the leg, Titus?” I asked him.

  He looked down at his right leg and placed his hand upon the large cast that encased it.

  “I feel it healing, Jacob Hunter,” he replied and I ground my teeth at his continued use of my first and last name. “And Wang says he will remove the cast in perhaps a month.”

  I looked at the young man’s cast and smiled at its appearance. Just like in junior high, it had a number of drawings and messages scrawled all over it. Artie had been the first to contribute, and I thought back to yesterday morning as she’d leaned in and wrote a quick get well message, signing it with her nickname and little “X’s” and “O’s” like any teenager would do. When she was finished, she’d noticed my curious inspection of her display and asked me, “What? They didn’t do this in your timeline?”

  I’d shaken my head in surprise at the comment, not really paying attention to her words, but the meaning behind them instead. Obviously, school children had done exactly the same thing in my timeline, just another reminder that while our timelines were obviously very, very different, there were still peculiar similarities that didn’t make sense. I had no idea how the course of history could diverge so clearly, but still leave it almost exactly the same and completely different all at the same time.

  I’d ignored Artie’s question at the time, playing it off by taking her pen and leaving my own contribution to Titus’ cast, and over the course of the day, everyone else had added their own sentiments as well. Helena had colored her lips with some local lip coloring she’d picked up at one point and left a kiss below her message, while Santino had cheerfully drawn the one thing every young boy loved to draw on another boy’s stuff: male genitalia – for whatever reason.

  I sighed as I noticed the drawing, remembering the time back in high school when a friend had drawn one on my backpack without me knowing, causing me to receive a demerit because obviously I’d draw the thing myself on my own backpack for every single teacher to see…

  I’d gotten him back though.

  Santino’s smut notwithstanding, the gesture had helped break the ice between the two teams and offered some lightheartedness before the reality of our situation set in. While the bonding experience had left Titus’ cast covered in color and words, the sight of it brought back that original curiosity and misunderstanding concerning our two timelines, and how we’d apparently fucked it up, as Archer had so eloquently stated upon our first meeting.

  I glanced up at Artie now, a question on my tongue, when I felt something hard poke against my arm. I looked over and noticed Marcus prodding me with a plate containing steaming pieces of meat, and finally noticed the animal skewered upon a spit that must have been recently taken off the fire.

  I reached out and took it, picking up a piece of meat with my fingers to inspect it.

  “What mystery meat is it this time?” I asked the Roman.

  “Antelope,” he reported. “Helena killed it this morning.”

  I glanced at her, seeing that she dutifully sat with the binoculars still fixed to her eyes, and smiled.

  “Sounds good to me,” I answered, having no problem with the less than normal meal. I popped the stringy but juicy morsel into my mouth and started chewing. I swallowed and felt my stomach immediately settle, and I sighed contentedly as Vincent passed me a small loaf of bread. I tossed another piece of meat into my mouth and savored its warm, flavorful texture before swallowing it down.

  “Feel better, Hunter?” Archer asked mockingly.

  I turned and offered him a momentary look before turning away, doing my best to appear unfazed by his tone. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as I tore off a piece of bread with my teeth, and chewed.

  “Indubitably, my dear Watson,” I replied with a smile. When I noticed Stryker and Martin trade questioning glances, I decided to return my attention back to Archer. “What? They don’t have Sherlock Holmes in your timeline?”

  The man stared at me angrily.

  “Apparently not,” I said with the flick of my eyebrows.

  “Obviously not,” Archer clarified. “I told you before that you fucked things up! We’re wasting time here. We need to start figuring out where things went wrong and how we can fix them.”

  “Have patience,” Vincent said, punching his open hand in a downward motion. “Time, believe it or not, is on our side now.”

  I gave Vincent’s shoulder a pat in appreciation before speaking. “If only it were as easy as you think, Paul. I’ve been trying to figure this shit out for years. A few conversations over breakfast isn’t going to help you.”

  “No, but it’s a good place to start,” he countered. “My team and I volunteered for this mission knowing it might be a one way trip, knowing that we may be here for a very long time, knowing that fixing the timeline may mean we’ll be unable to return to our home at all, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to simply waste my time while you get your shit together because you can’t get a handle on your emotions!”

  I shot to my feet and he joined me, and I got ready to throw my metal plate at his face, but Artie also stood and placed herself directly between us.

  “Stop it!” She ordered with upraised arms. “Bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  She had a point, but my anger wasn’t diminishing at her words. I felt my arm starting to raise the plate on its own, but Vincent lifted his hand to push it down, enticing me to sit as well.

  “Take a seat, Lieutenant Hunter,” he ordered.

  My anger subsided at his words, and I slowly sat with a nod of thanks to the older man, but I wasn’t placated completely. I could never trust Archer, not after what he’d done to Artie, and warning bells were going off in my mind not to start now. There was something off about him, something that suggested he was keeping things from me, only I didn’t know what.

  Archer sat as well, but Artie remained standing. She stared do
wn at Archer intently, but he refused to meet her eyes, so she turned back to me.

  “Archer isn’t wrong, Jacob,” she said. “We did come here for a reason. We need to talk and get our stories straight. All we really know about what happened here was recorded in your journal, but that wasn’t much to go on.”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “Fine. I’m all ears then.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It can wait until tonight after everyone’s settled down. Besides, I think Helena and John will want to be a part of the conversation as well.”

  I blinked at the name John, realizing a few seconds later that she’d meant Santino.

  Great…

  “Fine,” I said. “What did you have in mind then?”

  She glanced around as she tried to think, before her eyes caught something off to her right. “What’s that city over there again?”

  “Damascus,” I answered.

  Everyone present craned their heads to look, seeing the small city of Damascus a few miles away at the bottom of a shallow mountain. The city was very old, with clearly Roman influences, but it wasn’t large, and I knew that it had been completely rebuilt a number of times before the 21st century rolled around.

  At least it had in my timeline.

  To my right I heard Stryker and Martin mutter obscenities under their breath, and Artie looked almost shocked at the name as she continued to hold her hand out in the city’s direction.

  “What?” I asked.

  Archer leaned in and spoke. “Damascus is the capital of one of the most powerful caliphate empires in the Middle East. Just last year they were responsible for the destruction of Paris.”

  I blinked at his words, understanding every single one of them but not the context in which they were said. I glanced at Vincent and he looked back at me, his eyes indicating he was just as surprised as I was.