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

instincts advised him to, flee as long as they had the chance. Cyrus was unsure whether he should respect or detest the man a little more. But Macon was not just another ruthless commander to throw himself into battle without a plan. Or maybe exactly that was the plan. He knew what he was doing and his voice and his demeanor were ultimately much more important weapons than the strange magical armor and the sword he wore. A spectacle to spur on his men and maintain their morale. And it worked, Cyrus thought.

Now it was too late to worry about it. The air in one of the last side streets that led to the square flickered. Clouds of powdered steam rose in front of them, making the outlines of their camouflaged enemies visible. A bullet shot through Cyrus overcoat, leaving a frayed hole. . Another patch, he thought. Somehow, the thought of having to sew and fix his uniform made him more worried than the lead bullet that had just barely missed him.

Once he had feared the invisible elite soldiers of Xihutzin. An eternity back ... that was in truth only a few weeks ago. These shadows that could be everywhere. He now knew what to look for and the shock that their appearance had once caused had subsided. They were still only men. Distorted to monsters.

Cyrus returned fire and blood spurted out of the void as he struck one of his opponents. Not fatal, but the trail of blood made him visible and one of Macon's guardsmen shot him dead. However, unlike their opponents, Cyrus and the others did not have the luxury of cover... or a protective spell. A man next to him was hit in the chest and fell to the ground in a pool of blood... then the whole square shook. The previously lifeless stone colossus moved again, the crystals that were embedded in his eyes and at irregular intervals on its surface, glowed.

One foot lifted and hit the ground with the force of a meteorite impact. The front of an already battered building collapsed and fell to the ground in an avalanche of bricks, burying both guardsmen and ghostly schemes underneath. The stone giant did not seem to care if he killed friend or foe. A paw made of granite boulders, each as high as Cyrus, crashed right next to him, splattering bits of stone that dug into his cheek, tearing bloody streams.

"We can not beat this thing, Macon. We have to get out of here or we're all dead. ", one of the remaining guardsmen shouted and under other circumstances, Cyrus would probably have agreed. But now ...

Macon's answer was laughter. "Death is only a moment. Glory is forever. Follow me or never let me catch sight of you again. We are the golden guard. We were born for moments like this."

Maybe he's just crazy, Cyrus thought. Crazy but effective. No one accepted the offer to escape and Cyrus ducked under another blow of the golem. With one hand he struck the stone fingers trying to crush him with his ax. He had not expected the attack to do more than strike a few sparks, but the obsidian blade slid almost effortlessly through the rock, bit into it, and suddenly he was ripped off his feet and into the air.

The ground disappeared beneath him at breakneck speed and the last thing he saw was a still smiling Macon.

"Kill it."

Cyrus just barely managed to laugh out loud as he tried not to slip. His hands searched the smooth granite of the creature's backhand for something to grab onto. The ax came free and he slammed the weapon into a notch in the rock. How was he supposed to kill this thing? He could be glad to come back down alive. The stone giant towered over most buildings. He still had the grenade but ... how would that do more than Anselms spell?

Under him, Macon had reached the creature's feet and was beginning to climb without hesitation, while the few men who remained were following his example. Well, at least one of us thinks we can really bring the thing down, Cyrus thought. After all, the golem did not seem to realize that he was balancing on his arm. Not that my options are much better now - this time the wolf actually laughed at his own situation. What could he do up here? Well ... what could he do on the floor? The thing was solid rock and they had no magician. Because it killed Anselm. Because he hadn’t been paying attention. Because the loss hurt him more than it had any right to. He had barely known the man for a day, it was not fair. Nothing was .

Cyrus clung with one hand in a crack in the living rock of the statue as the monster began to move again. One foot crushed two of Macon's guardsmen. Cyrus reached for the grenade Macon had given him. It was still there. Well, if he was stuck here already, he thought grimly, at least he could try to do something. He untied the grenade from his belt and waited until the golem came to a rest again, then he ran. Maybe it made a difference if he destroyed the head of this thing? To literaly cut off the snake's head.

Only this one was not really alive. What did it matter, he was dead anyway.

He made it almost to the colossus' shoulder, then the world shook again when the monster started moving, striking down with its fist. What had just been a slight climb became a cliff. Cyrus feet threatened to lose their grip, too fast as that he could have grabbed on to something.  He saw himself fall, saw the floor of the square  suddenly approaching him ... then something tore him up again, a hand closed around his arm. For a moment Cyrus thought he was already dead, and one of the gods of men had appeared to take him to the golden halls, a grim angel of radiant gold, with glowing wings. Macon, balancing on the giant's shoulder,  lifted  him up. Into safety. Or at least away from certain death.

Without a word he took the grenade from Cyrus, his face an unreadable mask, even without the helmet with the death mask. A blow with the blade of his sword ignited the fuse.

For a moment, Cyrus was sure he was going to kill them both, just as he waited as the seconds passed and the fuse burned shorter and shorter. Then he threw the weapon. The grenade sailed directly into the creature's eye, being caught between some of the glowing crystals. The golem's head spun around, glaring at both Macon and Cyrus for an instant...  Then the weapon detonated. Debris rained down around them, some granite blocks broke away from what was the creature's face and fell to the ground. The statue began to waver. As incredible as it seemed ... it had worked, Cyrus thought. The thing fell. And they would fall with it if they did not get away right now.

"What are we going to do?"

Macon only crossed his arms with a big grin on his face. "We die," came the simple answer.

Gods, I should have shot him, the wolf thought.

"This is your plan? We die? Um, yes, I would be really glad if we could postpone this for another few years, possible to the moment I die in a rocking chair of old age ... "The statue leaned further to one side, crashing into one of the surrounding buildings. Dust and debris erupted as the building began to collapse under the weight.

"You really have no sense of honor." Macon remarked before stepping to the edge of the giant shoulder and looking down. "Come here and hold on tight."

"Excuse me?"

"I said hold on." Macon replied before putting an arm around Cyrus without another word. "This will probably hurt.”

"Oh no. No. No. No. "He suddenly realized what exactly Macon was up to. "Maybe it escaped you but I happen to be wearing no armor with a magic shield and I know those things are stopping  bullets but I do not want to find out if that also counts for ...."

"That's why I say, hold on!" Without letting Cyrus talk, Macon grabbed the wolf... and jumped. The fall seemed to take an eternity. Cyrus's stomach turned as the square seemed to be racing toward him and then ... a huge blow as Macon's feet reached the floor. Magical energy flashed around them as the shield displaced the ground beneath them to cushion the fall. Paving stones were crushed under the pressure of magic, several of the jewels on Macon's armor flickered, first bright, then darkening. One or two simply shattered as their inherent magic was used up. Macon sank to one knee, finally letting go of Cyrus.

Beads of sweat stood on the man's forehead and suddenly Cyrus was convinced that he, too, had not been sure if they would survive this. And that he was afraid ...

The moment passed, however, as fast as it had come when Macon straightened up and picked up the banner he'd left behind sometime. With a jolt he rammed it into what had remained of the Headless Golem. A heap of debris, slowly collapsing as the crystals glowed brighter in its surface.

"Next time, warn me," Cyrus said. His legs were shaking and his stomach was still rebelling. For a moment he was content to just stand there, bent over, fighting the urge to vomit. "Maybe I'd rather risk the fall than ... do this again."

Macon's answer was laughter, but it sounded less self-assured than before. "Tonight, the wine is on me," he replied before patting Cyrus on the shoulder. The wolf almost collapsed under the surprisingly powerful blow.

"I hate you."

"Most of my men do. They are not supposed to like me, just fight by my side and not run away. So, no wine? "

Cyrus smiled despite everything. "Oh no, I insist on that." He took a few hesitant steps away from the fallen giant. He was still alive ... that was something after all. Apart from them, only a handful of Macon's men still stood in the square. There was no sign of the city's temple guard, nor any flicker in the air that suggested a Shadow Guard warrior. For the first time since forever it seemed , things had calmed down. Only in the distance could he still hear shots being fired and the thunder of the siege cannons.

Cyrus sat down on a broken stone block. The blood still pounding in his ears and his legs felt thin and shaky. Macon would need more than a bottle of wine to make up for this, he decided.

For a moment he allowed himself to look only at the scattered pattern of pebbles and dust at his feet and not to think about the fact that this day was far from over. The battle continued, though it seemed to have calmed down in this section of the city. And then he saw something that made his blood run cold. One of the little pebbles at his feet moved. At first he paid no attention to it, but the stone did not just roll over a bit, it got faster, rolled up a slope and into the heap of debris that had once been the golem. A second followed, a third, larger chunk dissolved, seemed to be carried by the air as if by magic. He got up, just in time to see how the massive block slid a bit over the ground, stopped short ... and was then torn back with unimaginable force.

"Gods ..." Macon took a step back, away from the debris field, as more debris rose into the air ... and the seemingly dead creature stirred again.

The rocks collapsed like a strange puzzle, fractures merging within a few heartbeats. And then one arm rose from the boulders, reaching for the