SNAFU: Hunters

“As you have shown your prisoners?” He motioned to the legionary on the slab, his body limp and eyes empty.

The old man shook his head. “That was an offering. It’s not the same.”

“I’m not here to debate the merits of cruelty. You will die – you and your friend. Tell me what I want to know and it will be quick. Refuse and I’ll cut your tongues from your mouths and remove your feet and leave you here for the wolves.”

“All right,” the old man said, his voice weak. “I’ll tell you, then. It is in these very woods.”

“We know. Have you seen it?”

He nodded. “We spotted it last night. Only the sacrifices would have kept us safe.”

“And how does one kill the thing?”

The old man’s mouth twisted. “Kill it? How does one kill the wind?”

“I am not hunting the wind.”

Scratching the scar tissue where his left eye had once been, the old man said, “You Romans. There is no creature or spirit that you don’t think should roll over and bleed for you. I’ll tell you this thing, and it isn’t much, but is all I know. When I was a child and the Droch-fhola killed our sheep, my grandfather built a hut of yew and we slept there for seven days and seven nights.”

“That is all you know?”

“That is all.”

“Thank you.” The gladius flicked his wrist and opened the old man’s throat.

That one eye went wide and the barbarian fell forward, gurgling and sputtering until his twitching ceased. Another soldier did the same for the remaining barbarian.

The Decanus turned to Silanus. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Decimus Junius Silanus, sir.”

His brow furrowed. “The Younger?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your father was a Centurion?”

That took Silanus off guard. “You knew my father?”

He waved the question away. “That was a long time ago. I suggest you find some clothes and shoes.” He walked over to the remaining captive, the legionary that had not been sacrificed, and placed his fingers to the man’s throat. “Who were these men?”

Silanus hurried to him. “Soldiers from the Second Legion.”

“Augusta?”

He nodded. “I’m a cook in the legion, apprenticing to be a soldier.” He swallowed and thought quickly. “We were on leave, the three of us,” he lied. “In a village east of here. The Ordovices crept in at night and the villagers betrayed us.”

“If they were soldiers then we shall give them a proper funeral.” He stood. “Gather wood for the pyre.”

Silanus saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“But find your clothes and shoes first. Your feet may be frost-bitten by now.”

He did so, finding his things in the same cart that had held the gladius. He also found the soldier’s belt and sheath, wearing the weapon on his hip as he went to work gathering wood. The clothing and thick cloak helped warm him some but the cold had wormed its way deep into his bones and he couldn’t shake it.

The legionaries’ bodies were burned and prayers given. The soldiers searched the wagons for anything of value but there wasn’t much, barely two saddlebag’s worth, most of it taken from the soldiers they’d murdered. Silanus had not known either of the soldiers but still felt a twinge of sadness at the idea they’d been reduced to loot. Scanning the dark wood, he did not relish the trek ahead of him. The Second Augusta was scheduled to march east tomorrow at sunrise. It would be impossible for him to catch up with them, even had he wanted. Better to put as much distance between them and himself. And what if he were to come across other bands of Ordovices? His stomach twisted at the thought.

“Let’s be off, then,” the Decanus said.

Silanus approached him. “May I travel with you, sir?”

Cold eyes bored into him and he couldn’t tell if the man was going to agree or cut him down where he stood. Freezing, starving, his abdomen still throbbing from the kick he took, Silanus refused to look away.

“With that thing out there,” one of the other soldiers said, “the boy won’t last the night.”

Silanus didn’t know to what they referred but didn’t care. There were a thousand ways for him to die in this forest. What was one more?

“Keep pace with us,” the Decanus finally said. “If you fall behind, we will not wait for you to catch up.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“At the next village, you’re on your own.” He turned to his men. “Move out!”

As one, they rushed into the forest, Silanus trailing behind.

* * *

They made camp an hour later inside a small cave on a hill side where two soldiers pulled brush in front of the entrance. The Ordovices had a hunk of cured boar in one of their carts and the men sliced ribbons from it and ate around the fire. They seemed uncomfortable with Silanus there and did not speak much.

The Decanus handed him a slice of meat. “Here. Eat.”

He took it and ripped a massive bite away. It was salty and tough as leather but he was glad for it. When he had finished, he asked what legion they were with. The men looked to one another. One of them grunted.

“The Hundredth,” their commander said.

Silanus laughed. “There’s no Hundredth Legion.”

“There is.” The older man handed him another ribbon of meat. “You won’t find it listed on the Senate rolls. But it exists.”