Konstantins Crusade English version - E W (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📗

Prolog – the Catastorphie of Xihuitzin

 

 

Prolog – the Catastorphie of  Xihuitzin

Year 155 of the Reign of House Belfare

 

 

 

Grégoire Bernardet, imperial Ambassador of his Majesty Emperor  Domenicus  Belfare for the  Xihuitzin-Expedition was crawling through the mud.

If circumstances were any different he would have cursed out loud as he had done during the Months on his way into this cursed land. About the Insects, the climate the goddamn jungle full of Lizards and Spiders and whatever else might crawl around here

Now though he would give a lot for his biggest problem to be a nosy giant spider on his back.

Breathing heavily he came back to his feet, and managed to stumble a few steps before falling again. One of his men, one of the few he had left, fell directly besides him, a thin arrow in his neck.  Greogire forced himself to keep crawling, stumbling and hobbling as good as the muddy ground and the ever-present roots would allow. The rainfall of the last few days had made the ground spongy and almost too much so to travel at all. They had to leave the horses behind about an hour ago.

The thick canopy of leaves above his head only allowed little sunlight to reach the ground and the shadows around him seemed to develop their own life, dancing as he watched them nervously.

Another Man stumbled and fell besides him, the blue-golden Uniform of the Empire drenched by fresh blood . How many did it make out of that city with hem? How many of them were still alive now, had made it into the dense jungle? A Musketshot rang out, followed by the hollow sound of an arrow hitting flesh.

Not many left, he thougth, that much was sure and Gregoire did not dare to turn his head to make sure. Just have to get out of the forest, he thougth. Away from the eternal twilight and the creatures made from living stone and that impossible city and…

Something hit him. He fell for the third time that day , landing hard in the sot mud, tried to get up but his arms and legs would not follow his commands. The Shadows that had seemed to dance around him too form as first one, then two then more and more figures emerged from the jungle. The Trinkets made from feathers and stone and the woven fabric of their cloths seemed to almost merge them with the surrounding vegetation. But at least, he thought, they were human. Not Monsters. At least he would die through the hand of fellow men instead of Deamons with glowing eyes as he had seen them in that cursed city. Gregoire would have laughed if he could manage to do so. What did this land do to him that he was thankful for the mercy of death? He, who had walked the halls of the flying city, eating with the powerful, standing aside the emperor himself… The Man now kneeling in the mud would have looked as wrong at the table of a noble of Canton  as they would have been out of place out here with their golden jewelry and colorful robes.

The urge to laugh vanished as one of his captures bent down to him and nodded to someone outside of his vision. Gregoire closed his eyes, waiting for that sharp pain as Obsidianknifes carved his flesh, cutting his throat. The blow never came.  And as the ground shook and he was lifted up, he screamed. It seems he would not die out here. And that meant they would bring him back. Back to that cursed caverns beneath their holy city. Back to the daemons that clothed themselves as humans…  but were probably still gorging themselves on the blood of his remaining bodyguard. The poor, brave fools… He would join them soon.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Year 288 of the reign of House Belfare

 

Cyrus awoke to find the Tent he was in shaking. With a clang one of the, fortunately unlit, Glaslanterns fell from its retainer and burst into shards. The Wolf did not pay it any attention, while he scrambled to find his weapons. He didn’t have to guess what was happening. The heaving of the ground told him all he needed to know. Ambush.

Firelight fell through the thin fabric of the tent, doing little to keep out the heat of day or even the unbearable humidity. The only source of light on the inside where those very same flames and an almost burned out candle, that, luckily, had remained standing.  The Ground was covered in straw and the belongings of the six men living inside it so it took him a while to orient himself.

“Another Sortie?” one of the men asked. Cyrus only bothered to learn the name of two of them. The other five had only been here for a day or so. New meat for the grinder.  Or Reinforcements if one had a little more positive outlook on things. Cyrus didn’t. It was no use to try and keep the names of your new comrades. Few survived long enough to recognize he didn’t even know what they were called.

“Well got to give them that. Bastards don’t give up easily.” Another voice remarked. “Attacked the left wing yesterday evening. Looks like its our turn now. At least you hear them coming.”

“Yes and they didn’t beat us yet so get out there and in formation!” Cyrus finaly managed to find his blade and the musket he left at one of the tentposts. The shakeup from before had thrown everything into chaos eve more than usually.

While the others were still busy getting their uniforms in order, the wolf managed to stumble out of the tent and into the cool night air. Fuck the dress regulations off he Legion, he tough. You could enforce that in the save Garrisons and fortresses inside the Empire itself but out here survival came first. He would rather risk getting disciplined over a mismatched Uniform then getting buried in a tent during an attack, trying to look presentable to some schmuck officer that had a goddamn army of servants dragging behind him at any moment.

The night air smelled of tar, wet dirt and the heavy, sweet scent from the flowers growing in the nearby forests. And blood. Acrid, strong and only confirming what he already knew

The soldiers of stone were coming for them. In a long column streaming out from the Pyramid City, only visible as a dark shadow on the horizon. Each of their steps shook the ground, burrowing in the ground, breaking the meager Palisade they had constructed, and then the tents behind those… then bones as people that didn’t make it outside were crushed under their feet.

The remnants of their night’s vigil were scrambling from the stone creatures. Now and then one of the more braver or stupid ones stopped to take aim at one of them, firing but doing little but waste ammunition and time as the bullets simply ricochet of their body’s, leaving only a small scratch.

The smaller ones of the stone soldiers were only as big tall as an average man but a lot broader, giving them a stout look.  In the dark, Cyrus could make out the soft glow of the Crystals integrated in their structure. Like veins on a living body, but these did not transport blood, but raw, unbound magic, giving life to this legion of stone. The Essence of Power itself. A Power, the Emperor himself had recognized and that now was facing his soldiers.

Cyrus and the other men, that scrambled from their tents one after the other opened fire on the advancing figures. One bullet might not do much to a being made from rock but one hundred might shatter the crystals animating them. The movement of the first row of stone warriors became more labored before stopping completely as the glowing crystals shattered one after the other.   The second row however simply pushed the stuttering constructs aside, still coming ever closer with each step.

Cyrus started backing up, while the others tried to reload their weapons for a second volley.  A deadly mistake as he knew all too well. There was no honor in what he was doing but it meant survival. With seventeen years he had seen more people die unnecessary then any man had the right to do and remain honorable. Playing the hero might impress an officer but it didn’t keep you from getting killed. The Nobles that came here to prove themselves where the worst of them all.  Idiots, that somehow believed their blood and lineage made them bullet proof until they found themselves bleeding out on the ground.

The battle continued with Cyrus still backing away. One man lost his rammer and failed to pick it up in time, when the first Stone soldier reached him and swatted him aside like a fly. Cyrus heard bones shatter as the man flew a dozen meters or more through the air. The wolf felt sick and let the empty musket fall to the ground. Instead he drew the saber and a blade hidden in his boot. He could have armed himself with a stick as well, as they would have been as effective against an enemy made from rock but the weight of the weapon alone helped to calm him down. He wasn’t completely helpless just yet.

Against the bigger constructs the pyramid city was using only a cannon could hope to prevail but he hadn’t seen any of them tonight. But there where Shadows moving among the stone soldiers, almost not visible to the human or wolf eye if one didn’t know what to look for.

Something shot by his face, only missing it by an inch and hit a tent behind him, a slender, black arrow with a tip of black volcanic glass.

Cyrus acted on instinct, throwing the knife in the direction the arrow had come from. A scream followed by the sound of the blade hitting flesh confirmed he had not missed his mark.  Curses and more screams in a language he didn’t understand followed. Cyrus did not bother waiting to see if his still invisible enemy would get up again.  The shadowlike Hunters of  Xihuitzin were only rarely fighting alone.  Instead he retreated further into the interior of the camp, passing frightened and confused men, many of them far too young.  Somewhere a handful of officers were screaming orders, trying to organize the tired man into some form of fighting formation.  Tents were trampled in the ground as the stone warriors advanced on them; men were simply crushed or thrown through the air if they didn’t get out of the way in time.

What was keeping the mages so long? Cyrus asked himself. Or at least the goddamn artillery if the Men of the Order were too busy to save the very soldiers protecting them?

The Part of the camp he was in was situated on a hillside and the wolf was sure, there should be a quite a few big guns sitting on the hilltop.

A sudden burst of flame and heath answered at least one