Читать книгу The Vagrant - Peter Newman, Peter Newman - Страница 8

Ten thousand Seraph Knights march to fight in what will become known as the Battle of the Red Wave. Most strong men and women of the region walk with them, becoming squires and servants and soldiers.

Mechanized beasts carry the majority of the army, for the knights four-legged walkers with armadillo backs or metal snakes on tracks, for the soldiers waggons and tanks.

At their head is one of The Seven, borne across the sky in her floating palace. Sky-ships trail after, like ducklings following their mother.

The ground trembles at their passing.

For more than a thousand years, the crack in the ground known as the Breach has been watched by Seraph Knights in the name of the Empire of the Winged Eye. It was prophesied that the Breach would one day open, spilling terror. But as the centuries passed and that day did not come mankind lowered its guard. It is hard to be vigilant for a lifetime, harder still for generations. Even The Seven, ageless, flawless, overseers of the Empire, have become distracted, their visits to the southern region oft neglected. The first invaders to float up from the depths of the Breach find the knights unsuspecting. Hungry to exist, to claw some purchase in the world, the demons attack quickly and a sleepy thousand-year watch ends with screams and blood.

One man escapes, a squire who fled as the fighting began. He carries news of the catastrophe north, across the sea, all the way to the Shining City, capital of the Empire and sanctum of The Seven.

On bended knee, he gives his report, a stuttering, babbling confusion punctuated with apologies. He is forced to repeat it many times, moving up the chain of command, until he is taken to the Knight Commander, the Empire’s supreme military authority who, within minutes of hearing the tale, brings the matter, and the young man directly to The Seven for guidance.

After two days of silence The Seven decide to punish the squire for incompetence. Once this is done, The Seven fall to pondering what action should be taken. Thirteen months after the first invaders arrive, the decision is made for the armies of the Winged Eye to ride out in force. Gamma of The Seven leads them, leaving her sanctum, her brothers and sisters and their devoted, for the first time in living memory.

They travel slowly across the Empire, parading, glorious. The young and strong of each region are collected, swelling numbers and pride. New recruits come eagerly, for all wish to become part of history.

When finally the army arrives at the Breach, the enemy are waiting. From the ravine walls of them rise, hissing, into the air like great clouds of blood. They are composed of indistinguishable things, unidentifiable save by their teeth, smiling knives side by side, a thousand thousand hungry mouths.

As the army of the Winged Eye forms up, the Breach vomits strange multi-legged things at them, a river of screeching scabs, scuttling towards the living.

The soldiers answer with cannon and lightning, and the knights draw their singing swords.

On the ground nameless monsters are blown apart or pierced or shot. They crumble to sludge, bodies unable to hold integrity so far from their native soil. In the sky, dark shapes flit between the turrets of the floating palace, plucking men from the battlements. Occasionally a turret pins one with fire, lighting its blue veins from the inside as it plunges to earth, a flaming rag of skin.

Then, from the Breach something powerful emerges. In time it will be known as Usurper, or Ammag, or Green Sun but it does not yet have form, appearing as a green shade, an unborn malevolence. Where it passes, husks fall, bearing little resemblance to the brave men and women they were moments before.

A ripple of fear passes through the army, the possibility of defeat rising in their minds.

Gamma of The Seven watches the battle with eyes that mirror the sky. Seeing the true threat reveal itself, she signals her attendants. They open the doors for her as she stretches, shattering the thin stone that encases her, like a bird emerging full grown from its egg.

On wings of silver and fire she descends upon the enemy. Her sword is her battle cry and its call turns the infernal foes to ash. At her approach, the formless thing pauses, retreating back towards the safety of the Breach. It is not ready to face her, not yet. Arrow-like Gamma pursues it and no creature from the Breach dares oppose her, the enemy falls away like leaves before a breeze, until she lands on the dark-shifting surface of her foe, plunging her sword deep into its formlessness.

Silent since it cannot scream its pain ripples outward in strands of boiling essence. It tries to flee and Gamma follows, her blade pouring hate into the wound, sowing seeds of itself within the enemy. They float within, dormant, waiting to bloom.

It is forced to turn from the yawning void and, reluctantly, face her.

They fight.

It is said that she fought well. It is said that she died well. The Knight Commander will not have it otherwise. Whatever else is said however, Gamma of The Seven fell that day.

The order to retreat comes soon after. Barely two thousand survive the first retreat.

There is no second retreat.