Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion (71 page)

But again no answer came.

“
Why won’t you help me??
”  I shouted, clearing my lungs of all the oxygen they contained.  The adrenaline was leaving my system now, along with the oxygen, and I couldn’t stop my body from dropping to the ground.  I landed on my knees and sat on the heels of my feet, with my arms resting atop my legs, palms up.  It was a position ready to accept an execution by sword thrust to the back of the neck like the ones I’d read about it in my history books a lifetime ago.

And I was ready to accept it now.

Happily.

“If you won’t help her
,” I whispered, my eyes closing, “then help me at least.  Just end it.  End it all.  I don’t want any of it anymore”

But still Merlin didn’t come, nor did the death I so eagerly desired.  I was alone, ready to freeze to death or die of dehydration
here in the snow, whichever came first.  I was ready, sitting on my knees, a fitting memorial to how empty this world was and how little compassion and hope resided on this paltry plane of existence.  It would be a fitting tribute to the worthlessness of life, and how it truly was not worth living.

That’s when I felt something touch the back of my neck.  It wasn’t sharp, however, so not a sword, nor was it warm like the soothing embrace of someone’s hand.  No, it was cold and wet, sticky almost.  I opened my eyes and grew aware of the world again, realizing that Felix was nudging the back of my neck with his nose.

“Stop it,” I said, trying to bat him away.

I
failed, and he nudged me again.

“I said s
top it,” I said, more emphatically this time.

But he didn’t, choosing instead to push
me so hard that I fell into the snow, my head barely managing to avoid bashing itself against the log.

If only he’d hit me a little harder.

With a sigh of defeat, I lifted my head from the snow and opened my eyes.  Using my arms to push myself up again, I stopped when something caught my attention.  Sitting atop the log was a small object, something that hadn’t been there a second ago.  I looked at it curiously, noting that it was a small, glass vial filled with liquid.  I cocked my head to the side in further curiosity when it I also noticed that the vial looked much like a bottle of sink or bathtub unclogger, the kind that was split in half so that two separate fluids existed side by side but unmixed until it was time to pour them down the drain.  The only difference being that this glass container was clear, and that I could see the liquids within: one half bright blue, the other a vibrant red.

I d
idn’t know how, but the adrenaline returned, and I snatched it with a hand, jumped atop Felix, and again had no need to say anything as he carried me back to Helena.

***

I was barely conscious as Felix burst through the lines of Britons, legionnaires, and Praetorians alike.  He stormed through small clumps of engaged soldiers, knocking them over with his mass and speed, leapt Galba’s trench in a single bound, and didn’t even hesitate as he galloped at full bore toward the camp, knowing, apparently that its gates would open magically before him.

And they
did.

It was a miraculous sight, one almost as unbelievable as the appearance of the red and blue vial still clutched in my hand.  Briton
s, legionnaires, and Praetorians gaped as he passed them, pausing in whatever they were doing momentarily to point or stare in wonder as he carried me from the edge of the battle all the way to the interior of our camp without breaking a single stride.

I
, too, with whatever consciousness I had left, was impressed, and considered giving him a new name like Pegasus or Silver, something more appropriate to the godlike manner in which he performed.

But that would have to wait as he pulled up hard in front of Wang’s aid station.  He bucked and reared back on his hind legs again, tossing me hard to the ground.  I would have been upset, except for the fact that I’d needed
the bump.  I’d been nearly unconscious before I fell, but was snapped awake at the impact.

I
struggled to my feet, but a hand helped me stand.  I looked up to discover Minicius had arrived, just as I’d ordered.

“Legate?  Are you well?”
  He asked, his voice rife with concern.

“Fine
, Minicius,” I said, but had to reach out and grab both of his arms to steady myself.  I looked at him, knowing what I was going to say, but still unsure why.  Somewhere, deep inside where my fatigue couldn’t touch me, something stirred, something that understood what I suddenly had to do.  I was certain it wasn’t the right choice, but it was the only one my broken mind could think of.  “Bring me the orb, Minicius.”

“But, Legate…”

“Do it, Minicius!  That’s an order.”

He nodded hesitantly, but seemed compliant.  He ran off, and I watched him go for the briefest of moments before I stumbled into the tent
, knowing exactly what I’d asked him to do, but still struggling with why. I entered to see Wang standing beside Helena where she lay unmoving, his face filled with anger and directed at me.

“Hunter!  Where the fuck did you…”

“Is she alive?”

“Barely!”  He exclaimed, stalking forward, seemingly intent on causing me harm.  “How could you leave her like that?  What kind of callous, heartless
, son of a…”

“Shut up, Wang,” I yelled, using the last of my strength to push past him and fall against the table holding Helena. 
I nearly banged my head into it but Wang rushed to my side and helped me up like any friend would, and I heard him questioning me in the background as I raised the vial to eye level and looked at it intently.  I half expected some kind of malicious omen to present itself in that moment, some kind of warning that if I gave it to Helena, I would be doing little more than raising a zombie version of her from the dead or turning her into an evil counterpart of herself.

But nothing like that happened.

The vial instead seemed inviting, like it was encouraging me to hurry the fuck up because time was running out.  Like the Little Engine That Could, it seemed to call out to me, pleading with me to give it the chance it deserved to do what it needed to do.

To fulfill its destiny.

And who was I to argue with something like that?

I leaned forward and tilted Helena
’s head back so that she could more easily drink from the vial.  She seemed lifeless as I held her head up, but I could still see her chest rise, fall, rise, and fall again.  It was a clear sign that she was still alive, but then it didn’t rise again, and I panicked, so I upended the vial and sent every last drop of its liquid into her mouth and down her throat.

Wang leaned in carefully, his eyes locked on the vial.

“What is that, Jacob?”

I gritted my teeth determinedly.  “My
deus ex machine
.”

His head snapped around to look at me in confusion, but I ignored him.  I simply lowered the vial to rest it against Helena’s chest and waited.  Waited for her chest to rise again.  I waited and waited for
eternity, but then, for what seemed like no reason at all, it lifted itself again, fell, rose, fell, and entered a rhythm far steadier than before.

A sharp breath exited Helena’s lips, startling both Wang and I.  She arched her back in a way that reminded me so much of her
old pain attacks, but unlike in those instances, her face wasn’t awash in agony.  It seemed peaceful instead, normal, and I could tell this to be the case because her original coloring was returning as death’s grip on her subsided.

I smiled, knowing that it was working, and Wang breathed in sharply and pushed me away.  I let him, too emotional to care, and watched him check Helena’s vitals.  He only needed a moment before he looked back at me, a
grin on his face and tears in his eyes.

“She’s normalizing, Jacob!  I can’t believe it!  What did you give her?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted.

Wang turned again, his face concerned and confused both, but then he looked up at something behind me.  I turned and saw Minicius standing there with the orb between his hands
wrapped in a cloth.

“Get that thing out of here,”
Wang ordered as he strode past me and toward Minicius angrily.

For his part, Minicius looked as confused and concerned as Wang had seconds ago, and he looked at me for guidance.  As Wang continued to advance on Minicius, I sighed deeply, knowing that what I was about to do would set
into motion a chain of events I’d be unable to control, but knew had to be done.  Now that Helena was safe, there was only one way to keep her that way.

I locked eyes with Minicius
and made a gesture with my hand.

Minicius understood.

He looked at Wang and said, “I apologize.”

On a good day, Wang could have taken Minicius in a
fight easily, but he was tired and was caught off guard by an attacker he had thought an ally.  With no time to react, Wang could do little more than watch as Minicius slammed the orb into his head, knocking him unconscious.  I looked at my friend on the ground sadly, hating myself but knowing he would have to understand later.

Minicius looked to me for further orders.

“Wait outside,” I ordered.

He nodded and left.

I pivoted on my butt and crawled back to Helena’s bed, using every ounce of strength I had left to pull myself up and look at her.  Her eyes were open now and fluttering from side to side as though in a trance and absorbing information at an astonishing rate, but when I entered her peripheral vision, her eyes stopped, her head shifted to the left, and she looked at me with her eyes as vibrant as ever.

“What happened?”  She asked
, her voice strong.

“You survived, Helena, but you need your rest.  Try not to think about it
right now.”

“Okay, Jacob,” she said, almost contentedly, something I hadn’t expected.  I risked a glance at the body of my son
encased in rags, and wondered if she had forgotten or if she’d even been told yet.  If she had forgotten, even if it was temporary while her body healed, I was happy for her, and I wasn’t about to disrupt the process.

She closed her eyes again restfully, smacked her lips a few times
with her tongue, and seemed to drift off to sleep again.  I did everything I could to bring myself to a standing position and walk away as quietly as I could, turning carefully but not without one last look at my son.  I was never going to let what happened to him happen again.  Not to anyone.  Not to Santino, not to Artie, not to Helena.  Not to anyone.

It’s why I had to leave.

I took a step away from Helena, but after I took another, I heard her whisper, “I love you, Jacob.”

I couldn’t find it in myself to answer, convincing myself she couldn’t hear me anyway.
  I risked one last glance at her, and felt my throat fall into my stomach.  I dipped my head as I turned to leave, the emptiness in my chest persisting.

I emerged from th
e tent to find Minicius waiting impatiently, also noticing a stream of legionnaires and Praetorians entering the camp, some wounded, others completely fine, if not physically tired.

“What happened?”  I asked.

“The course of battle shifted when your comrades broke through the enemy lines and led a counterattack.  I think Galba’s troops are simply cleaning up any stragglers left behind.”

I looked
toward one of the gates.  “Any word on casualties?”

“There are many, Legate,” Minicius said, spreading a hand to gesture toward a triage center off to his left.

“I meant of my friends.”

“Oh,” Minicius said.  “I do not know, but I believe they are alive.”

“Good,” I whispered, but then held out my hands skittishly.  “Please.”

I could feel its power already, had felt it the moment Minicius had brought it into the tent.  I’d felt a draw well before then
even, but it wasn’t until I knew it was in my presence that I felt our rekindled bond grow stronger.  I was surprised it hadn’t yet taken a hold of me completely, but perhaps our time apart had shielded me from it in some way.

I didn’t know, but even when Minicius opened the cloth to reveal the orb, I felt no different.  The draw was there, the enticement to take it and use it,
but it wasn’t nearly as intense as before.  At least not yet.  The orb’s darkness was there as well, lingering in the background, ready to entangle me in its negative energy again.

Everything inside me told me to walk away, to not let it take over again.  Logic said to run as far and as fast as I could and never turn back. 
But something was keeping from doing it.  Merlin may have been right that bringing us to Ancient Rome hadn’t been my fault.  It had been an indirect action on my part, something I couldn’t control, but that didn’t mean every other decision since arriving here hadn’t been.  Those were active and direct actions on my part, ones that placed myself and my friends in harm’s way.  Merlin couldn’t take credit for that.