The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (45 page)

I looked wearily at him, feeling my life hanging by
a thread. A thread I knew he could force me to dangle from for days
to come.

“I… I don’t know how.”

Did the thing even have an on button?

Claudius slapped me. “You lie!” He slapped me again.
For good measure I guess.

“Leave him alone, you fucking bastard,” yelled
Santino, coming to my defense. I would have smiled, if I wasn’t
doing everything I could just to remain conscious. Claudius was not
amused, however, and signaled with his hand in Santino’s
direction.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men rush
forward, one man with two very large nails, the other with a large
hammer. They didn’t wait for further orders, and the first man
placed a nail between the two bones connecting Santino’s wrists,
while the second man slammed the hammer against it.

Santino’s scream was louder than my own after I had
struggled against my restraints. Satisfied the first nail was
secured, the two men moved on to his other wrist, likewise staking
it to the cross in the manner science had proved was necessary for
the body to not tear away from the nails. I saw my friend’s head
slump.

“You bastard! If you’ve killed him, I swear to
God…”

“To which one?” Claudius barked, looking around the
room, arms wide. “There are so many. Perhaps you swear to me? That
would be ironic. Either way, you will unlock the true power within
this orb.”

“What do you actually expect to find?”

“Who cares?” He said, throwing his empty hand in the
air. “As long as it’s not more like you. I’ve seen who you are, and
you’ve become so much less interesting than I’d hoped. What good
are you, really? Now…” he shoved the sphere in my face again, “do
it!”

The ball was so close, I couldn’t help but look at
it. I looked and looked, but had no idea what he wanted. He even
pressed it against my cheek, but unlike last time, nothing
happened. When he pulled it away, I continued to gaze into it and
was just about ready to throw another insult at him when I thought
I saw something, but as the image become clearer, a door slammed
open and Claudius snapped the sphere away.

He moved over to the man, who was quickly and
desperately saying something I couldn’t hear. When the man
finished, Claudius seemed even more furious and deranged. “It seems
we have a bit of a problem,” he said, looking in my direction. “No
matter. I won’t let you two get lonely.”

He jerked a thumb in our direction, and twenty men
piled into the room. These men weren’t Praetorians, looking more
like crooks, thieves, murderers, and all the other nameless scum of
the underworld, and they looked very happy.

“Don’t kill them,” was all Claudius said as he
left.

The men joked and laughed, mumbling and grunting
indecipherably to each other in a language I didn’t understand.
Once Claudius was gone, the men took the time to explore the room,
looking for anything they could use to have a little fun. One man
found an olive branch, similar to the ones I had been on the
receiving end of a few times this past winter. Others found sticks,
blunted knifes, stones, and rope. Each of them circled around
Santino and me threateningly. At least my friend was still
unconscious.

The man with the olive branch walked up to me and
spat in my face. Then he punched me in the gut, and started
whipping my legs with the branches. His swats left large welts and
cuts all over my calves and thighs. I was too weak to scream in
agony, but my groans were plenty loud. It was at that point I
realized I was completely naked, another blow to my dignity.

By the time the man started striking my back, and
another man had begun cutting small lacerations into Santino’s legs
with a broken
gladius
, I heard something very familiar. It
was the subtle clinging and clanking noise of something metal
bouncing on a hard surface. Years of military training
automatically kicked in, and I knew that sound could only be one
thing.

A flashbang.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I tried to force myself to
block out the inevitable bangs. I knew what was coming, but I was
still unprepared for the actual detonation. The nine banger knocked
me unconscious again, but only for a short while.

A minute later, I opened my eyes to see numerous
blurry, black clad figures strolling through the room, policing the
bodies of the now twenty dead torturers. One of them approached me,
pulling off a balaclava, and stared up at my dangling form. Mask
off, I saw the person release a mass of bunched up black hair,
swinging it over her shoulders.

Helena tried to smile at me, but her façade of
bravery faltered, revealing just how afraid she really was, even
though her eyes looked as angry as ever.

“Miss me?” She asked.

XI

Siege

Rome, Italy

April-June, 38 A.D.

I looked away from my dark clad rescuer to figure
out exactly what was happening. I saw three figures dressed
similarly as Helena, looking more like ninjas than soldiers, move
towards a still unconscious and naked Santino. I saw the largest of
the three remove the nails from Santino’s wrists, cut his bonds,
and catch him as he fell onto him. The smallest figure pulled off a
large bag, and tended to his wounds. I also noticed a number of
Roman Praetorians moving through the room as well. I looked back at
Helena, trying to form words, but my throat was too dry to utter a
single one.

She looked at me expectantly. “Well? Nothing to
say?”

A few seconds passed while I let my throat
moisten.

“Please don’t look down.” I croaked.

She smiled and flicked her eyes downward anyway,
glancing back up at me with twinkle in her eye. She chuckled to
herself as she retrieved a knife from a sheath around her calf, and
cut my ropes. Unable to bare my own weight, I collapsed into her
arms, the pain threatening to knock me out again. She staggered
only slightly under my weight, refusing to drop me. Gently, she
lowered me to a sitting position and offered me the tube from her
CamelBak. I accepted it and drank eagerly as she placed a large
blanket over my shoulders. Choking on my last gulp, I spit water
all over her, but immediately felt my head start to clear.

Frowning at her wet pants, she looked back at me.
“So this is the thanks I get?”

“Sorry,” I sputtered. “Couldn’t help it.” I wiped my
mouth on her sleeve, and she gave me another look. “I hate to sound
ungracious here, but what’s the plan?”

In answer, another figure moved over to where we
sat, and pulled off his mask, revealing Vincent’s weathered
face.

“The plan is to get you two out of here,” he said.
“Unfortunately, getting in was the easy part, because the city is
under siege now. Caligula has ordered an artillery strike. We’ll
have to dodge incoming fire as well angry rebels. Can you walk? Can
you fight?”

I shook my head. “I can walk, but not without help.
My head feels like it’s about to explode, and I can’t see very
well. If I look worse than I feel, I can only imagine how hard you
guys must be working to keep your lunch down.”

Helena angled her head to inspect my face. “It’s
not… that bad,” she said, clearly lying.

“Santino is unconscious,” Vincent continued, “and
needs to be carried. We have fifty Praetorians with us, so that
shouldn’t be a problem, but we could still use all the help we can
get.”

I nodded. “Just give me a gun.”

Helena placed a familiar object in my hand. “Here’s
Penelope.”

I tried to look at her. “Umm… who?”

She shrugged. “You talk in your sleep.”

I felt my cheeks get warm. It was only a little
embarrassing that she knew I gave my rifle a name, and only
slightly more that she knew I uttered it in my sleep.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m not jealous.”

I gave her a quick smile, at least what I thought
might have been a smile had I been able to feel my face.

Wang came rushing over with an outreached hand.
“Here, Hunter, take these.” He held what I assumed were pain
killers.

I swallowed them quickly with some more water.
“Thanks, doc.”

“Let’s go,” Helena said, pulling me to my feet with
a strength I knew most women couldn’t equal. She cradled me in a
similar fashion to the way I helped her the very first day we
arrived in ancient Rome, and dragged me out of the room.

“Man, this is kinda nice,” I commented. “You’re not
allowed to get hurt anymore. Only me.”

“Deal, but lay off the desserts next time.”

“Har har. Don’t quit your day job.”

I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a
non-MRE style dessert. Her struggles keeping me upright had nothing
to do with my weight, but because I was offering far less help than
she had been when I carried her months ago. I could barely limp,
and it didn’t take long before I realized she was mostly dragging
me, as opposed to just supporting me. Just like the days carrying
my drunk friends home back in college, their dead, fish-like state
made them impossible to carry easily. I had to give her credit
though because she was keeping up with the group well enough.

Vincent hung back with Helena and me, but Wang and
Bordeaux were upfront with the vanguard of Praetorians breaking us
out. I saw that we were rushing through the streets of an
unfamiliar portion of Rome. Although, again, it probably only
looked unfamiliar because I couldn’t see shit. A part of me was
thankful for that, but the other part wished I could see what was
happening. It looked like an interesting fight.

“What’s going on?” I asked Helena, blindly trying to
get my bearings.

Before answering, I saw her tilt her head to look at
the sky. Following her look, I tracked a dozen blurry and glowing
red ball flying through the air.

“You’re missing quite the show,” she answered.
“People are panicking and running through the streets. The city is
in chaos. We’re meeting only scarce resistance so far, easy kills
for Wang and Bordeaux. Oh, Caligula’s artillery is also lobbing
balls of fire over the walls. I had no idea they could do
that.”

“You’d be surprised. They’re pretty crafty,” I told
her as I stumbled on a rock, nearly falling to the ground.

I felt my head swim again.

“Jesus, you’re a klutz, Hunter. You should have
stuck to being a teacher,” she said, trying to keep my spirits up
as I found myself fighting harder and harder to stay conscious.
After another dozen steps or so, I felt my eyes close and I started
losing control over my legs. After another few steps, they gave out
altogether, and I felt my hold on reality slip away.

The last thing I remembered before blacking out
completely was Helena screaming my name.

***

I opened my eyes.

Flicking them left and right, the first thing I
noticed was that I could in fact see. After a few minutes of
blinking, my surroundings began to focus, but what continued to
worry me was that I couldn’t see much at all, just a bright white
light.

Was I dead?

The only thing I remembered since being hung up in
Claudius’ torture chamber was a dream about two strikingly
beautiful women, one dressed in a white, loose garment, the other
in a black, tight fitting body suit. The two women had battled one
another in vicious hand to hand combat for what seemed like days,
neither one of them ever gaining the upper hand. They didn’t fight
in the comic, cliché cat fighting and bitch slapping style normally
associated with two women duking it out, but with intense punches,
kicks, eye gouges, and hair ripping, but with absolutely
no
fondling.

This was my dream, damn it! At least
some
clothing should have come off.

But I wasn’t sure a lack of clothing would have
saved me from the end because when both women finally noticed me,
their duel ended and they shifted their attention towards me.
Literal fire burning in their eyes, one set blue and the other
green, both women turned to rush me, fists at the ready.

Hallucinations were a bitch.

I tried to put the disturbing dream out of my mind,
and attempted to get a better look around. For all I knew, I may
have been reacquired by Claudius. Maybe he was waiting for me to
wake up before he tortured me again. I craned my neck to the right
and noticed that I was in a tent, but the only objects I could see
were a few empty tables and a desk.

I was distracted from my observation by a dark shape
that positioned itself over my head. It took me a second to focus
on the shape, but I didn’t need my eyes to know that it was Helena.
I could recognize her scent from across the room. It was that
pleasant.

She smiled down at me, her smile more gorgeous than
I’d ever seen it, and placed a hand on my cheek, stroking my brow
with a thumb. “Nice to see you up, sleepy head.”

“What happened?” I choked. “Where am I now?”

“You collapsed unconscious and Vincent had to carry
you. We fought our way out of the city and made our way to the
legion camp. We lost six men getting you out. You’re in a hospital
tent, and you’ve been out for two days.”

That seemed like a good enough summary to me.

“Santino?”

She pulled back so that I could see past her. Behind
her lay the figure of my friend, still unconscious, but breathing.
I saw numerous bandages over his bare chest, arms and legs, and an
IV drip poked into his forearm. In particular, I saw a bandage
around his right wrist, renewing the image of his crucifixion in my
mind.

“He’s fine,” she informed. “He’s in worse shape than
you are, but he’ll make it. He lost a lot of blood, but Wang took
good care of him. He says he’ll make a full recovery.”

“Good.”