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

all directions. At the hastily piled up barricades, hastily piled up Rubble Mountains really, at the opposite the end of the square, stood the giant.

Cyrus did not know how to describe the creature differently. Each of the stone cuboids that formed its body was as tall as a man and twice as wide. The golem easily towered over the surrounding buildings, and its immense paws tore pieces from the houses, without any sign of trouble, weapons to throw at the men of the guard.

Cyrus barely managed to throw himself into the ditch and drag Anselm with him before one of the improvised projectiles crashed right in front of them, tearing open the pavement. Earth spurted up and rained back down on them, and for a moment Cyrus saw himself already buried alive. Debri pieces, hit them, broke barricades and sent men flying.

Some guardsmen started to run away. Screaming. Cyrus, half buried by earth, managed to break free and roll beside Macon. The leader of the Golden Guard had not moved during the whole incident, but had simply remained at the edge of the crater. It was a miracle he was still alive.

"Any idea how to get past that thing?" He asked. A group of soldiers with hand cannons fired at the giant, but the bullets could just as well have been made of straw, doing no damage.

The rest of the Golden Guard had positioned themselves around their leader. There was no sign of their horses. Presumably, even these men were not crazy enough to lead their animals into a contested city of narrow streets and lanes.

"Can the magician take care of this thing?" asked Macon.

"Anselm?"

"I heard him," the wizard replied peeking over the edge of the crater. At least,  the giant made no attempt to come closer , Cyrus thought with relief. But he already had grabbed another Fist full of rubble to use as ammunition.

"Something about this thing is not right." , Anselm said.

"I would say the size," Cyrus replied. "I've seen a lot here, but this ... This golem is a walking fortress. Including cannons. "

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" Lord Macon looked at the young magician and Cyrus could not say whether he was angry or actually interested. The mask hid any emotion and the man's voice was cold and controlled. As if he were not in the middle of a battlefield, the wolf thought.

A group of Shadow Guards streamed across the open space toward the craters where the guardsmen had sought shelter.

The thunder of guns drowned out the sound of bursting stone. Men fell, stumbling over, only a handful surviving the first salvo. Macon stood up with a fluid movement, a flintlock pistol in his hand. He aimed, fired, and one of the Shadow Guards, who had come too close to their hiding place, collapsed.

"Listen, the golems I've seen here have all been animated by magic. You can feel it. Like ... pinpricks. Not very pleasant. But this thing over there ... nothing. "

"Does that mean it's not magic?"

"No, that's to say it scares me, Cyrus. Every living thing has at least a spark of magic. Call it a soul if you want. And it feels different than pure magic. And that's exactly what's up there. It has a soul. Do you understand? A powerful one. "

"It certainly shines bright," Macon stated. "I suppose that's a bad sign."

"Anyway, it means I have no idea what happens when I try to use magic against it. And I do not think I want to find out. "

Macon sighed. "And I thought a magician would be useful. Very well, then we do this the old-fashioned way. "

"So you have a plan?" Cyrus was more concerned with taking shots at the rubble barricades. If there were other defenders nearby, he hoped that would keep their heads down.  Between the Golem and these at best rudimentary fortification, more shadow guard would be the last thing they needed… The plaza itself offered almost no cover. Only a fallen statue of bronze-coated stone and the remains of a fountain, over whose edge the corpse of a soldier had fallen. The once clear water had turned reddish.

Lord Macon nodded and signaled to a group of his men. The Golden Guard riders disappeared between some hastily piled barricades and soon returned with a box stuffed with straw. Macon already opened the lid before they could set it down and pressed a ball of dark metal into Cyrus' hand.

"Dragonfire Grenades," he explained, causing Cyrus to quickly return the ball to its nest of straw. However, careful enough to cause no shock. Macon looked at him for a moment and shook his head. "You seem familiar with it."

"If you think that we have no chance and just should kill each other, I can imagine more pleasant ways of going out then burning to death."

"Not you." Macon nodded in the direction of the golem. "That thing over there is  what we want to blow up. One of these grenades as an igniter and a small powder keg. If only we can get close enough to the giant ... "

"The central word here is if." Cyrus interjected. Macon did not pay attention to his protest, but started splitting the grenades among his remaining people.

"We're all going to die," Cyrus said, before Macon gave him one of the shells as well.

"Our cause is fair. We will not fail. "

The wolf had to pull himself together, not to simply start laughing. "Half the time I do not even know exactly who I'm fighting for."

Macon looked at him for a moment as if he did not understand what Cyrus was talking about. How big the difference between these men and the rest of the guard was, he thought. Or was it just visible to him? The thought disturbed him more than it should. In his eyes, the golden guard was crazy. And at the same time there was cohesion between this group of warriors that had long since become bitter for him. But before he could think about it, Macon signaled to advance.

With a cry of "For Emperor and Hetman." The men of the Golden Guard swung themselves over the barricades and poured over the square. The few who had somehow led their horses through the chaotic streets of the city jumped into their saddles and led the attack in the direction of the stone giant that barred their way. Two set up banners that immediately drew enemy fire and shredded the Ordeal's dragon emblem. Macon himself ran ahead of his people, firing at some scattered defenders without even making any effort to somehow provide a harder target. What remained on the field next to the golem was finally driven back by the suicidal advance of the Guard. A bullet hit Macon's shoulder, but it bounced off the man's armor, seemingly ineffectual ... The Golden Guard leader just laughed as he dropped the pistol, raised a second, similar weapon, and pulled the trigger. The shooter fell before he even registered that his hit had not killed his target.

How could one laugh in this mess? Cyrus hesitated for a moment to follow the other. Macon walked ahead of his men, dropping the second pistol. Instead, he took off the flag of the previous carrier and stepped out of the last bit of cover. The black-and-white banner of the Golden Guard immediately drew the fire of the defenders still scattered across the square. Arcs lit up around the Lord of the Hussars when the first bullets hit their target and ricocheted off the man's armor as if struck on solid rock. He seemed to barely feel the impacts and motioned his other men to follow him.

One by one, the guardsmen rose from their cover and flocked behind their leader. With all that was right, Cyrus thought the man should have died long ago. More projectiles found their target, only to burn up before they could even scratch Macon's armor. Magic. Was that why he wanted to recruit Anselm for his unit?

The air around the figure of the gold-clad leader flickered as he swung his saber with his free left hand and faced one of the defenders. Obsidian hit on hardened steel, firelight sprang up, following the movements of the glowing blade. Then Macon's opponent made a mistake and the leader of the Golden Guard struck him down, not even paying any attention to the fallen body. His other men did the same and advanced in tightly closed lines across the devastated square. One fell when a gunmen hit him on the shoulder, only to get up back to his feet. Ignoring the injury, he rejoined the rest of the men and closed the ranks.

Cyrus drew his knife and handed it to Anselm. "You stay behind me," he explained, making sure the grenade Macon had given him was safely stowed away. If he was involved in this madness, then at least he did not want to die because his own weapon fell on his feet and detonated. The Wolf took another deep breath, making sure his rifle was loaded, then swung himself over the barricade.

However, he did not get far before someone grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back.

 At the same moment the whole place in front of him went up in flames.  Flames that seemed to rain down on them from the stone giant's fists. A guardsman did not make it to safety in time and was enveloped in a magical fire. His cries drowned out Macon's hasty orders. Where the flames reached the ground, they burned the pavement to slag and caused gases to rise from the ground.

Cyrus scrambled to his feet and looked at Anselm, who had still buried his hand in his coat. The young magician shivered visibly, his eyes fixed on the giant golem.

" What was that?" The wolf demanded to know.

"I told you." Anselm's voice was hardly a stifled whisper. "It has a soul."

"And that means it can use magic?"

What Cyrus saw on the young mage's face as he turned back to him did not please him. Anxiety. Any color had left the man's face.

"I ..." Anselm shook his head. "There is something in this thing that should never be Cyrus. Something old that gives it power. "

There was something in the mage's voice that consumed his nerves. The shrill height, the sheer panic ... They had come here without Anselm collapsing. But now he almost seemed to be in for a nervous breakdown.

Cyrus took a deep breath and put a hand on the young man's shoulder. Young ... Once again he had to remember that he was possibly even younger than Anselm. At least by years. But by mere experience ... Maybe he was wrong about Anselm's abilities, but this was no place for him.

Cyrus risked a glimpse of the barricades.

Twenty men in gilded armor and yellow cloaks, following a figure who struck a swath through the approaching defenders, a saber enveloped in magical light in one hand, and the half-burnt banner of the guard in the other. The golem's fireball had apparently missed Macon and scorched only the fabric of the standard.

"Let them burn their city, we will not back down!" Macon's voice was clearly audible even over the general chaos. Well, at least he did not have to worry about the crazy captain, Cyrus thought. The man was insane but also apparently too stubborn to die when he should. Bullets of stolen weapons burned in the air just before they reached him, drawing only more fire, which fizzled out before breaking Macons armor. The other men of the Golden Guard followed their master on the foot. One was pierced by a shadow that seemed to materialize out of nowhere before Macon whirled around and beheaded the Black Temple Guard with a blow. The magic that blended the man with his environment faded in a shower of sparks, leaving only a figure covered in black growths. But no matter how brave