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

sky and crashing down right where Cyrus had been sitting  before.

At least it could not get any worse, he thought.

"How can it still be alive?"

"I doubt it's really alive in the first place," Cyrus replied, biting. "How about we try my method now and run away before it gets up and kills us?"

For a moment Macon did not answer, just watched as more and more debris reassembled and reawakened the stone giant. Cyrus was tempted to just write the man off and run away on his own. Then he just shouted, "Macon! We have to get out of here. Now. "

That seemed to finally reach the man. "We don’t have any grenades left, right?" He mumbled, more to himself than addressing Cyrus directly. "I guess we should find more.”

Cyrus decided to take that as a yes, and gave Macon a short sign to follow before he ran. The ground trembled beneath their feet as the stone giant rose again and slowly followed them.

 

 

 

Chapter 15

 

 

Flames erupted and Anselm took a step back in surprise. He barely suppressed an outcry when his strange leader lighted up a torch. The strange creature breathed fire. The flames spilled from her nostrils under the mask and set fire to an oil-soaked cloth wrapped around a branch she had fished out of one of the canals.

For a moment he was convinced she had used magic, but he felt nothing to indicate so. No afterglow of a spell, not the familiar tingling in the limbs. Only the heat that hit his face as she turned to look at him strangely for a moment. In any case, if she wanted to say something, she did not do so, just seemed to make sure that he was still there. And he was too insecure to break the silence on his part. For whatever reason these people took him for one of their priests, he was not sure if they would help him, if he actually revealed this deception. How did a high priest behave? They were clearly afraid of him. But the fear of his still nameless companion now seemed to give way more curiosity. He probably could not hope to keep this up for longer than necessary.

Anselm let a small magical light rise above his hand. He could at least remind her, that priest or not, he was a magician. He did not like to rely on people's fear but ... he did not really have a choice here.

 Not that it made it any better, Anselm thought. He knew what fear could do to a person. A distant memory of snow swirling in the air and screaming in a dark courtyard ... He pushed aside the thought as best he could and shivered anyway, not just because it was surprisingly cool down here. He hid his arms in the wide sleeves of his cloak ... or whatever was left of it.

Golden eyes with tilted pupils reminding him of Cyrus followed the movement closely. The magical light, now a hand's breadth above the fabric of his sleeve, was reflected in them. Intelligent, awake and definitely not scared anymore. Then the little figure just nodded and they walked on slowly.

Anselm was finally convinced to have landed in the sewers of the city. The fountain on the place where the golem attacked must have had a connection to it. This had probably saved his life and prevented him from being buried under the rubble. He was fortunate not to have any broken limbs. And the noise of the collapse had made some strange inhabitants aware of him.

The canals were as monumental as the city above. The tunnel he had found himself in was one of the smaller ones, as he soon discovered. They were not just water pipes, some seemed built to divert a whole river, with canals wide enough that he could not see the other side. The sound of running and dripping water was omnipresent. Moss grew between the cracks in the stone of the canal walls. Where wood or other debris washed up and formed fertile ground, whitish mushrooms sprouted. By contrast, he had not noticed rats or similar vermin. Strange, he thought. That down here should have been a paradise for the little beasts. Some of the channels they passed were dry, and whenever he pushed a stone, it took an uncomfortably long time until he heard a crash.

Their path led them through several archways, each leading to further tunnels, each large enough to accommodate a small ship. Eventually, however, the path ahead of them was abruptly cut off.

 They passed one last turn and then ... the way just ended. In front of them opened a wide chamber, at the bottom of which clear water streamed. The room was circular, with a vaulted roof . A grid, at the highest point of the vault, let light shine inside. Fresh air hit him and Anselm took a deep breath as he looked around ... and stepped back from the edge.

There were a total of four entrances, along with the one they had come through. But only two, those left and right from him, were connected by a large bridge. Two huge statues carried the construct between stylized, stone fingers. Four more supported the dome roof above them.

Dead end, he thought as he turned to his companion. She did not really seem worried about the situation, just looked at him expectantly. As if he could somehow bring  them over the abyss before them. Anselm risked another look into the depths and felt the creature move in his back. For a moment he was convinced he would get a push in the back, one that would send him from the edge and down into the black waters beneath. But nothing happened. When he turned back to her, she was still there, apparently waiting for something. Waiting for him, as he thought. So what now? He still did not dare say anything.

Now that they were closer to the surface again, he could hear the noise of the battle, still continuing somewhere over their heads.  The sound of guns being fired and what sounded like a distant thunderstorm when any of the living statues that served the city as war machines moved around.

Finally, his companion seemed to lose patience and gave a low sigh. Her hand disappeared into the pocket of her ragged dress for a moment, then brought out a small amulet. It was a dark, almost black stone with blue veins that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Without saying anything, they had both apparently resigned themselves to simply remaining silent,  she stepped past him and held the item up.

 The inner light in it seemed to shine brighter for a moment. Nothing happened at first. Then Anselm felt the ground tremble beneath his feet. One of the statues on the bridge raised its head, infinitely slowly , as dust trickled down and disappeared in the waters at their feet. Then the second statue came to life and with them the whole bridge. The air was heavy with magic, felt like static charged. Anselm's feet began to tingle as the two stone colossi began to turn the bridge as if it weighed nothing. Ancient hinges crunched as the construct began to move, swinging around and closing seamless with the ledge on which they stood. Then it was over. The statues froze in motion and the magic disappeared. The way was free.

His companion looked back at him briefly while she hid the amulet again and then made her way over the bridge. He hesitated for a moment, then followed her. Anselm had to think back to the golem that had attacked him up in the city. Something about this being had seemed completely wrong. Spells that animated the stone ... no magic that a member of the Order would ever deal with, he thought. And certainly not to move something as ordinary as a bridge, where a draw bridge would have served the same purpose. Not because it would not be possible, but such a spell would have to be continually renewed and maintained. It would take quite a few mages to get even one of these rock constructs moving, it was just more efficient to put that power right into an offensive spell. Something like this ... It would burn out even the most cautious and powerful magician within days. He had felt it himself when he tried to stop the stone monster. How the magic grabbed for his life energy and devoured it irrevocably. He had not been able to take a look at himself, but ... Anselm slipped a strand of hair through his fingers. Graying at the tips. And that was just the beginning, as he knew. Magic consumed their users. Always. The Order's older magicians were often so consumed with magic fire that they could hardly walk on their own; their bodies twisted and aged ahead of time. He still had time, he told himself. Maybe decades. And if he was lucky, he would never be forced to put so much power into a single spell again. He could not believe it, thought Anselm. So far, he had escaped the Order's machinery, which made magicians mere resources. Had avoided becoming one of the burned-out shells who wandered the battlefields of the Empire.

And yet, the inhabitants of the pyramid city seemed to have armies of stone constructs. Lots of guards ... but at least until now he had not noticed a single other wizard in Xiutzhin. It could, of course, be that the inhabitants kept their own magicians out of the battle. But not even when the walls had fallen, had another mage opposed them. As if they would rather risk losing the city than sacrificing their magicians. And something else had seemed strange to him, something so fundamentally wrong he had stopped for a moment. It was not just rock and magic that had enlivened the creature on the square. It had not felt like a mere animating spell ... but like a living being. Something ancient and angry that lived behind the Crystalline Eyes of the statue and that the inhabitants of this city had captured and thrown against the Invaders. Something that seemed strangely familiar. Because he had experienced it before ... Anselm shook off the thought. Better to think about something else.

And how could the ceature control the spells that had moved the bridge?

"This amulet." He spoke before he could think about the possible consequences. His curiosity had finally triumphed. And besides, I doubt she'll believe I'm part of this cityany longer anyway, he told himself. "It gives you power over the spells down here?"

"No." She turned to him for a moment. Blinked. Golden eyes watching him for a moment as if she was not sure if the question wasn’t a test. "It's a chain. And you also know who put them on us. But I'm sure you had more important things to do. "

Anselm just nodded. He could not exactly admit he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Your name is Ganelle, is  it not?" He finally asked to break the silence. So far it had not bothered him, but once broken, it now seemed oppressive to