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

by Edward Crichton

  The old man blinked rapidly at the oddity of their names, and his jaw dropped at Helena as she removed the shawl from around her head. He quickly recovered and coughed into his hand.

  “Charmed,” he said with a weak bow in her direction. “You must forgive my reaction, miss, but there aren’t many women who visit the great library.”

  “That’s because your society is too busy repressing them and keeping them from growing brains of their own,” Helena countered darkly.

  “That is in fact not true,” Rumella disputed without missing a beat. “In fact, any good historian would tell you that women have played an integral part in singlehandedly turning the tides of destinies and empires. Women have always been, in fact, exceptionally keen, and history is remembered as it is due in large part to their contribution. Take Livia, Augustus’ wife. She…”

  I had to smile at Helena as Rumella went on.

  I wasn’t sure if she’d been trying to legitimately scold the man, but he had deflected her comments quite easily, an impressive feat, since most men who encountered Helena’s scorn usually came out of it flustered or confused.

  I continued listening to Rumella speak of Livia, a topic I could listen to all day, but Helena glared at him angrily, and he quickly got the message and trailed off.

  “Still…” Rumella said, clearing his throat, “…you do make a valid point that many women are not educated as well as they should be. A few may become learned individuals, some pursuing their studies even here, but there is a reason why they are discouraged from a life of scholarly pursuit; for it is the foolish man who does not fear the day when women are as evenly educated as they are, as women would certainly then no longer have a need for man, and the world would most likely be better for it.”

  He smiled at Helena and she smiled back, twisting her head around toward me and holding out a finger in his direction. “I think I like this guy.”

  “Yeah, I bet you do,” I said, directing my attention back to Rumella as I lowered her hand to the table for her. “So, about the orb…”

  “Yes, yes,” he said quickly, finally taking his own seat, “I was just getting to that. It all started when young Varus came to the Great Library just five months ago. He spent an enormous amount of time here in this section reading everything he could, but the exciting work was not begun until two months later.

  “Now, you must understand, this portion of the library does not receive much attention. There is not much scholarly work left to be done on barbarian mythologies, nor was there ever much to begin with, so it was to my great surprise that I found someone so willing to spend such an inordinate amount of time here.”

  “I see,” I said. “So you just took it upon yourself to find out what Varus was working on?”

  “There was nothing malicious about it, I assure you. I am simply a curious old fellow, and have become quite interested in oddities in my old age, and this room is filled with many.”

  “Had you already heard of Remus’ orb before and suspected a connection?” Vincent asked quickly.

  “Are you joking, sir? No one had heard of Remus’ orb except Varus and anyone else you’ve told. It is an oddity to displace all oddities. The ultimate mystery. And it has overwhelmed my life ever since Varus invited me to help him in his research.”

  I cleared my throat. “Rumella, I think you should know that Varus is dead.”

  He stared at me blankly. “Truly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Such a shame,” he said as he shook his head. “Such a fine scholar. A man with his finger on the tip of a true discovery, not the nonsense the men outside endlessly debate. He was a brilliant man. I… I shall miss him.”

  “So will I,” I said softly.

  Helena took that moment to jump in, cutting the tension. “He died getting us the information we needed to find you.”

  “Then his death was not wasted,” Rumella said triumphantly. “Now that you are here, Jacob Hunter, all will be revealed, and we will work on getting you and yours home.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Rumella,” I said.

  “I know not what the shit of bulls has to do with your predicament, but I assure you, I speak the truth.”

  “So let’s get started then,” I said.

  Rumella sighed and glanced out the window where dusk had fallen. I hadn’t even noticed, nor had I seen the staff members that must have surreptitiously swept through the room minutes ago, lighting the dozen or so candles here.

  “The day is late, and I have not rested soundly for many weeks,” Rumella indicated, “but now that you are here, I feel I can finally rest easy. Would it be impolite to ask that we reconvene in the morning?”

  “We’re actually in a bit of a hurry,” I said. “Perhaps you can hit the key points tonight? For an hour maybe?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” he replied wearily. “You must be excited to finally understand everything that has befallen you these past five years. Of course. But, where to begin?”

  “Let’s start with where the orb comes from,” Vincent suggested. “Where could such an object originate?”

  “Aha!” Rumella cried, his fatigue disappearing. “A most astute question. Perhaps the most important one as well. And in fact one you may be able to have answered by someone who has firsthand knowledge of it.”

  “But it’s seven hundred years old,” Vincent commented.

  “Indeed. Of course I do not mean to imply the same person, but I do believe the group responsible for its existence still resides within the confines of the Roman Empire.”

  “Druids,” I said. “In Britain.”

  “Yes,” Rumella agreed, looking surprised, “but how did you know?”

  “Druids we suspected for a while,” I answered, “but Varus left me a note telling us to go to Britain.”

  “Foolish of him,” Rumella commented. “Such information in the wrong hands could be catastrophic, but yes, you are correct. However the story is much deeper than that.”

  “How did you actually discover your information?” Helena interrupted. “These scrolls look like they’ve been here forever. People must have read them at some point.”

  Rumella turned to me, raising a hand in her direction. “She is not a historian, is she?”

  I smiled. “No. She most certainly is not.”

  “Young lady,” he said, looking back to Helena, “please do not take what I am about to say as an insult, but when it comes to research, one does not simply read. Analysis, cross-reference, speculation, assumption, guesses, interpretation, exploration, all of these things are needed to truly understand the meaning behind a story. Yes, each of these documents individually may have once been read, but to piece them together you need a point of reference, and the reference we needed was the orb. Without knowing of it first, it would be quite easy to overlook references to it, as they are few and with little description.

  “It took Varus and I months to discover what we did, and some of our research had to be brought in from various Roman History and Mythology buildings of the Great Library, as well as from other libraries entirely. We even sent men to Germany and Britain in an attempt to uncover more information, but most of those men have yet to return. So, please, you would do well to keep your comments to yourself, as it is not a process one can learn in a few hours’ time.”

  Helena leaned back and crossed her arms, glowering, and I tried not to laugh.

  “So where does the story begin?” I asked.

  “Exactly where your friend here said it begins,” he said gesturing to Vincent. “Seven hundred years ago, when a Druid associated with Romulus and Remus gave to them an orb of unimaginable and unexplainable power to conduct some form of ritual that would alter the course of history.”

  “What kind of ritual?” I asked.

  “We never found specifics,” Rumella answered as he gestured to Helena, “but we speculated it was a ritual meant to divine their destinies, and give them power over them. A way for them to go against the gods�
� divinations and the fates allotted to mere men.”

  I let out a breath dismissively. I’d never put much stock in the idea of magic, nor faith in the concept of fate or destinies, and I certainly didn’t think gods – or even God for that matter – had that kind of control over me.

  I liked the idea of free will.

  “Now,” Rumella continued, “what do you know of Druids?”

  I shrugged. “Not much. Some consider them holy men or ever sorcerers, but in reality they were more like politicians, diplomats, tribal chiefs, and leaders of communities. That kind of thing.”

  “Ah yes. Indeed they are, but in the age of Romulus and Remus they were much, much more that that – at least according to legend. It is told that they had powers beyond those of mortal men, ones that could rival those of even Jupiter and his cronies. Manipulative powers that could alter the physical world as well as the unseen world.”

  “Unseen world?” Helena asked.

  “Yes, that which cannot be perceived by man. Psychological. Elemental. Transmutation. Temporal.

  “Excuse me, did you say temporal?” Wang asked, the first words he’d spoken yet. “As in manipulating time?”

  “Yes. That was one of their rumored abilities.”

  He hummed, impressed, while I sat back, stunned that after five long years I was actually having a conversation with someone who may in fact be able to help us.

  “So who exactly was this Druid?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately his name is lost,” Rumella answered with a frown, “but he was the last in what little recorded history we have to possess any power at all. He may have been the last of a dying breed, or perhaps the only Druid with any real power ever. I suspect we will never know.”

  “But why Romulus and Remus?” Vincent asked. “What made them so important?”

  “This I also do not know,” Rumella answered with a shrug. “Perhaps there is more to their divine birth than we care to acknowledge in this more modern age.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt again,” Helena said, “I really am, but I’m confused. If this Druid was so important, why exactly doesn’t anyone know anything about him? Many people must have written about him.”

  Rumella smiled. “I shall take pity on you this time, young lady, for you are most beautiful and your questions at least suggest a curious mind.”

  Helena looked at him impatiently, but didn’t interrupt.

  “History lesson number one,” Rumella stated with an upraised finger. “Who records history?”

  Helena shrugged. “Those who write it down?”

  “Excellent!” He threw his arms over his head and grinned from ear to ear at her answer. “In fact… probably the simplest but most apt answer I’ve ever heard! I shall have to remember it, but I am rambling, I apologize. History lesson number two: is the passage of time an influence on what is remembered?”

  “I suppose,” she said. “Things can be lost or forgotten over time.”

  “Yes, of course. That was an easy one. Now, to answer your question. Seven hundred years is a long time, and Romulus was in fact the man who ensured history was recorded after Remus’ death. Perhaps he was jealous that the orb was Remus’, as we assume it was from what little information remains, so he embarked on a campaign to strike the Druid’s name, intentions, and existence from history, censoring any information of his otherworldly abilities as well. The end result is what all of us here know, which came from the few remaining references scattered across the thousands of documents that now reside within this room, which again is why I remind you that simply reading at random would do a scholar no good.”

  “What about the original document found with the orb?” I asked. “Were you ever able to translate more of it?”

  “Try as he did, Varus was never able to fully do so, no,” Rumella answered. “The language was too obscure, but the more he tried, the more it seemed a warning than anything. That much became clear.”

  “Oh, great,” I muttered. “Now you tell me.”

  “Was there anything else to learn about the Druid or his time in Rome?” Vincent asked, his voice hopeful.

  “Little of consequence. A few tidbits and factoids that I will eventually add in my planned treatise on the subject, but nothing that will help you.”

  I lifted my head in interest at that comment. “Plan on writing a book, are we?”

  “Yes of course. The world needs to know.”

  I smiled. Indeed it did, but I couldn’t exactly let that happen. It would be too big of a chink in history to get things back to the way they had been.

  Great.

  Now I had to play government censor as well.

  “All right, fine,” I said, frustration setting in over how little we were actually learning here. “So we can find more information in Britain then? Is that what you’re getting at?”

  “Well, yes, but we sent men there to retrieve just what you are looking for. None have returned.”

  “But that’s where we need to go, right? Britain? But where exactly?”

  “One moment,” Rumella answered as he stood tiredly and moved to a shelf off to his right. He set aside scroll after scroll, rummaging for something in particular, when he finally found what he must have been looking for and held it up in success. He shuffled back to our table and laid it out, revealing what looked like a map. All of us leaned in and peered at it, but even I couldn’t tell what it was.

  Rumella sensed our hesitation. “It’s a map of Britain.”

  I squinted, finally seeing said country come into focus. The “map” was about as detailed as a child’s drawing of the island, but the island’s general shape did seem properly displayed if one really looked.

  “That’s right insulting, mate,” Wang muttered as he looked at it.

  “Now,” Rumella said, “most of Britain is uncharted or occupied by barbarians who do not properly explore and document landmarks, and certainly no location is known by the same name today as it was seven hundred years ago, but Varus and I did recover a number of hints as to where the Druids may have relocated.”

  “Go on,” I encouraged.

  “It’s more of a riddle, really,” Rumella said as he shook his head. “Perhaps a bedtime story for young Celts aspiring to become Druids. We never knew. We had to piece it together from a number of documents, but it was most fascinating, even if Varus and I could never understand it.”

  “Well?” I asked impatiently.

  “A man with a grin faces west,” Rumella recited from memory. “Atop his head sits a high crown, but upon the tip of his nose is where his treasure is stowed. It swims in the sea and threatens to leave, but never goes. It…”

  “Wales!” Wang exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

  I looked back at the map then back to him, confused. “How the hell did you get Wales from that?”

  He reached out and pointed with a hand. “Look, Hunter! ‘A man with a grin faces west’ is Great Britain, but…” He trailed off, noticing everyone’s confusion and took a moment to compile his thoughts before explaining.

  “Look, here’s the ear,” he said, pointing at the small bump that jutted out of the eastern edge of the island, northeast of where London should be. He then moved his hand to cover the narrow bit of land that would be Northern England and Scotland. “This is the tall crown, and here’s the lower jaw,” he said, indicating where southeastern England would be. “And here’s the upper lip and nose,” he said, circling Wales excitedly. “And the mouth in the face is the Bristol Channel! It fits perfectly!”

  “You are most astute, young man,” Rumella said happily. “How did you see it so quickly?”

  “That’s where I’m from,” Wang said, his voice rising. “It’s my home!”

  “Well,” I said, unable to think of anything better, “if you say so, but Wales isn’t exactly small. Where in Wales?”

  Wang raised a hand to hold his chin, but didn’t answer.

  Helena pointed at northwestern Wales with a finger, which
looked little more than a smooth curve on the primitive map. “The riddle said ‘upon the tip of his nose is where his treasure is stowed’ but if this is the tip, it could mean anywhere. It’s just one big, open area.”

  “No, it’s not,” Wang said, his mind apparently piecing something together. “On this map, maybe, but on a modern map there’d be a… small… island there?”

  Wang completely lost us as he thought out loud, his voice drifting. He didn’t even seem to be in the room with us anymore as he gazed unblinkingly at the map. Archer noticed and waved a hand in front of his face, but still Wang looked distant, with something else in his eyes.

  It almost looked like he was afraid of something.

  I was about to ask him what was wrong when I noticed Vincent too looked spooked.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” I asked.

  It was only then that the two of them snapped out of their reveries and took notice of the fact that the other had been just as distant as the other. They looked at each other curiously until Wang held out a hand and slowly counted his fingers down from three. When he no longer had any fingers held up, they spoke in unison:

  “Anglesey.”

  Helena glanced between them. “What’s that?”

  I too had never heard of it, and was just as curious. Both Wang and Vincent looked startled again, but Vincent was able to bring himself around first and answer.

  “Anglesey is an island off the northwest coast of Wales,” he said, pointing at the map. “Today it’s known as The Isle of Mona, and it’s probably not on this map because a large mountain range almost completely obscures it from view from mainland Wales. It’s… an interesting place.”

  I didn’t bother trying to understand the odd tone in his voice, realizing that the Isle of Mona was definitely a place I’d heard of before, but my brain was having trouble remembering where.

  “Ah, yes,” Rumella commented. “I have heard of it. A place where…”

  His voice trailed off and stopped completely when a look of shock and confusion crossed his face. His eyes turned and bored into mine, and I found myself feeling sadness before I had any idea why. The emotion lingered for only a half second, until Rumella dropped his chin to his chest and looked down, and we both discovered an arrow protruding from his left pectoral. His eyes went back to mine and he started to say more, but then he slumped to the table, dead.