Megaliths of the Empire. Nick Perumov - Hunters

01.07.2019

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Pyotr Andreevich Grinev, the main character of the story

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For centuries, magicians and sorcerers have resisted vampires, defending those deprived of magic from them and helping hunters of bloodsuckers with potions and spells. For centuries, the townspeople and inhabitants of the gods of forgotten villages have relied on the help of wizards. But one day everything changed. And the old enemies came together in a strange and incomprehensible friendship to the common man, overshadowed by the blessing of both the Chapter of Magicians and the largest people of the Night. What for? Why? Who will be sacrificed to an established, shaky world? What goals are both hungry for? What role in this tangle of inexplicable events is assigned to the nameless hunter and his student, one of the most talented sorceresses of the Congregation, Alisande du Vargas, and the healing scientist Maitre Bonaventure? Where will the path of the hermit-magician Benjamin Skorre lead, for whom, no matter what happens, vampires will forever remain the first and main enemies?

The work was published in 2017 by Eksmo Publishing House. The book is part of the series "Tales of the Orderly". On our site you can download the book "Hunters. Prophecies of Destruction" in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format or read online. The rating of the book is 3.28 out of 5. Here you can also refer to the reviews of readers who are already familiar with the book and find out their opinions before reading. In the online store of our partner, you can buy and read a book in paper form.

Nick Perumov

Hunters. Megaliths of the Empire

* * *

Synopsis, or What happened before?

In one of the worlds of the Orderly, where once the path led even the battle mage Clara Hummel, there lived people, elves, gnomes, halves and other races; there were also vampires, real ones. They sucked blood, turned victims into new ghouls, killed, and where there is such evil, there will certainly appear those who oppose it.

Oddly enough, they turned out to be mere mortals, hunters, fishers, and not at all sorcerers sophisticated in magical arts.

An old vampire hunter, a master, and his young apprentice follow the trail of the ghoul who took the life of the daughter of Prince Predslav. Taking a vampire is difficult, they are much stronger and faster than any person; one has to rely on cunning, complex traps, traps and alchemical potions, which are brewed by a good friend of the master, Master Bonaventure.

After a long chase, the master and apprentice overtook the bloodsucker in the old elven ruins, but it turned out that the vampire was in a hurry for a reason, but to meet with a certain sorcerer, together with whom he conducted a ritual of summoning a real demon, and the wizard and the ghoul seemed to be helping a friend friend, and learned from each other.

In a short fight, the ghoul - who turned out to be a ghoul - was severely crippled, but managed to hook the master with its claws, easily wound the student and escape. The hunters took the sorcerer, he also turned out to be a girl who called herself Cordelia Bosque, a member of the Chapter of Wizards.

She admitted that the magicians with the vampires have something like a secret agreement. Magicians are interested in the ability of vampires to call demons from another world and control them to a certain limit. The vampires needed a refined, refined enchantment to manipulate demons that the ghouls themselves could not develop.

Having released the sorceress on all four sides, the master and apprentice set off back in all haste. The ghoul must have returned as soon as it regenerates and gets rid of the wounds received.

And she returned, but not alone. Two more young ghouls, and with them - the highest vampire who converted them all, Venkevilyana, known as the Scarlet Lady.

In a heavy battle, the hunters managed to slay one of the ghouls, seriously injure the other two, but the student also received serious wounds. And, probably, the master himself would have stayed there if help had not unexpectedly arrived in time - an unknown creature, similar to a strange large beast, forced Venkevilyanu to flee and finished off the two surviving vampires.

With great difficulty, the master drove the mortally wounded student to the city of Predslavl, where, having received news, the master of Bonaventure hurried to help. The alchemist managed to delay the process of transforming the young man into a monster, however, in order to finally cope with the disaster, a magician was needed.

And then the master with Bonaventure remembered one sorcerer, that in ancient times he hunted vampires with them ...

About Master Benjamin Skorra. What sorcerer had already spent a fair amount of time in the far north, working as a modest city wizard in Mushroom Kruch, a village of half-men. And it had to happen that right now his solitude was violated - his old acquaintance and love interest, the sorceress Alisanda de Brieu di Braille du Vargas, with whom Benjamin had strong feelings during their joint studies at the Academy, came to visit.

Benjamin did not immediately understand the purpose of the sorceress's visit. And she appeared, no less, to ask him for assistance in some mysterious, but very important project of the Chapter, where vampires participated. Maitre Skorre allegedly interfered with the sorcerers, sending out some homunculi who killed the ghouls so valuable for the project.

Of course, Maitre Skorre denied everything.

It is not known how long the verbal duels of the former lovers would have lasted, but a strange hesitation arose in the ley lines, conducting magical power through the flesh of the world. Benjamin and Alisande set off on the trail that led them to the old temple of Chaos worshipers. And a strange goat-footed creature burst out of it, easily avoiding combat spells and announcing that it had come here to herald the imminent end of the world and the embodiment of the unknown Prophecies of Destruction.

Having easily fought off the magician and the sorceress, the goat creature disappeared.

Alisanda longed to get him, take him prisoner, interrogate him at all costs. And for this she turned to her, as she put it, "situational allies" - vampires.

After tracking down the goat-footed creature with a sophisticated spell, Alisande and Benjamin opened two portals for the pair of vampires who appeared, leading directly to the goat-footed creature. Soon they returned with the prisoner, but badly crumpled. In payment, the vampires - their names were le Betrevel and Beata - demanded some spells from Alisande. And she was ready to give them away, but the young ghoul Beata snatched the book from the hands of the sorceress and disappeared in an unknown direction, finally opening a portal from which a giant demon appeared. Even the magicians and le Véfrevel could not cope with this guest. They were saved only by the fact that Alisande, at the cost of great efforts, managed to close the portal opened by Beata.

It was becoming clear that the Chapter's original plan had failed. Now it was necessary to understand what these Prophecies of Destruction were, and to repel a new threat.

The lines run along the parchment, as straight as a ruler. The pen dances in thin fingers, eyes of a strange amber color gaze into the written tensely and attentively. The symbols lined up in a neat sequence bear no resemblance to any common alphabet. Few people know that the girl, known in the Order of the Peterians as Magda, mixes three dead languages in her report, superimposing them on the grammar of the fourth. The "letters" that make up the letter are not used by anyone other than the brothers and sisters of the Order.

If this message fell into the wrong hands, even the sorcerers of the Congregation would have to work hard to decode.

“Your Eminence,

the first part of the work has been completed successfully. Tests have shown consistently reproducible results. In the near future, we will subject the received final check. Our friends point to some goal, perhaps known to your Eminence; I do not dare to entrust a concrete determination of the goal even to this message. The eradication of this goal is in the interests of our friends, for it is associated with the opposition rendered to them; it will not bring us any benefits or losses. I suppose to agree with the arguments of our friends.

Magda ".

Northern tract

Of course, the master thought, traveling in such a stagecoach is much more pleasant than on the back of a monitor lizard. A soft armchair, it's warm inside, look out the window and think about the mortal. Well, or about the imperishable, if you want.

The venerable bachelor of natural sciences, Maitre Bonaventure, for a change, left the dissection of vampire heads and began to feed his patient, who was in a strange semi-conscious state.

“The Morrigan is the creation of the Scarlet Lady. - The fat man stood next to the fixed stretcher. - Now we can say with complete confidence. And Gregor and Peter too. All are relatively fresh. Morrigan is younger, the other two are no more than five or six years old. However ... I still have more research ahead ... I don't like something about their excreta, about all these four. And the most straightforward one, which you, my friend, with the student broke first, and the rest of the troika. Atypical. But here, in the field, I can only do the most superficial analysis. You cannot do the right conjunction or putrification here. He sighed. - Eat, eat, poor fellow. Eat well ... but with everything else ... A real magician is needed, oh, how necessary.

The master was silent.

"In general, it is confirmed," continued Bonaventure meanwhile. - The Scarlet Lady creates one ghoul after another. And they really have ... a vigorous ichor, may this turn be forgiven me. The bones, the shape, the volume of the glands themselves are like those of young vampires, but in terms of excreta, if I'm not mistaken, of course, the old people will be given a head start. Our Red Ghoul is strong, what can I say.

- I already heard that, - the master could not resist. - Just what are we going to do with it now? “Destroy it” is easy to say, of course; how can you track her down? How? Today she is here, tomorrow she is there - dangling all over the Priproliv, as far as I understand!

Bonaventure concentratedly fed the wounded man for a while, not answering the annoyed hunter. Then he put the bowl down, plopped down on his favorite sofa with a sigh.

- You're right, my friend, you can only encounter her by accident, that's how you, for example. And if you chase after her, you can easily run all your life in vain.

- But you have a plan? - The master really wanted to close his eyes and not think about anything, surrendering to the smooth rocking of the stagecoach. Close your eyes and sleep. Sleep is our last refuge ...

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Oddly enough, they turned out to be mere mortals, hunters, fishers, and not at all sorcerers sophisticated in magical arts.

Having released the sorceress on all four sides, the master and apprentice set off back in all haste. The ghoul must have returned as soon as it regenerates and gets rid of the wounds received.

And she returned, but not alone. Two more young ghouls, and with them - the highest vampire who converted them all, Venkevilyana, known as the Scarlet Lady.

And then the master with Bonaventure remembered one sorcerer, that in ancient times he hunted vampires with them ...

Of course, Maitre Skorre denied everything.

Having easily fought off the magician and the sorceress, the goat creature disappeared.

Alisanda longed to get him, take him prisoner, interrogate him at all costs. And for this she turned to her, as she put it, "situational allies" - vampires.

It was becoming clear that the Chapter's original plan had failed. Now it was necessary to understand what these Prophecies of Destruction were, and to repel a new threat.

If this message fell into the wrong hands, even the sorcerers of the Congregation would have to work hard to decode.

“Your Eminence,

Magda ".

Northern tract

The venerable bachelor of natural sciences, Maitre Bonaventure, for a change, left the dissection of vampire heads and began to feed his patient, who was in a strange semi-conscious state.

Nick Perumov

Hunters

Prophecies of Destruction

The wings are blacker than the sky

(One hundred thirty-five years before the events of the book)

The night was damp and hazy, from deep ravines to the village long gray tongues of fog crawled, and it seemed that the unknown creatures hiding in them were about to lick the miserable huts covered with rotten straw.

And from these huts to the woven gray curtain now more often a chain of torches stretched. Away from the outskirts, barns and barns, from pastures - to the hill at the very edge of the forest, where, barely visible in the darkness, rose seven stone pillars-monoliths, erected here in times so ancient that even scribes, if they happened here and hear the question of the age of the temple, just a helpless gesture.

However, it was to this hill that the procession was headed.

And she was surprisingly numerous for this time of day.

The places here, on the border of the Wasteland, have never been distinguished by peace and tranquility. The robbery gangs were rummaging around, monsters wandered through the thickets, who did not care whether to eat the cattle or its owners. And so that the flaps themselves would climb into the dark at night? What happened to them, why suddenly such fearlessness?

In front of all six hefty men in homespun trousers and shirts, busily puffing, dragged on their shoulders something wrapped in a gray canvas, tied over whatever came to hand - belts, ropes, even a fishing net - and kicking desperately.

- Hush, witch! - One of those who dragged him put his pound fist where he had to. A cry came from the cocoon and immediately a furious hiss.

“Nothing, Radovan,” another porter said. - Little boy at all. And there to the post, and ... a little heels start to smoke, at once learns how to conjure!

- I did not conjure! - came from the depths of the package. - Uncle Mikhas! Well, uncle Mikhas! You know me!

- To me, too, the nephew found out, - the broad-shouldered man hastily and often spoke to Radovan. - You do not meddle with my relatives, you witch brat! The pregnant pig is worn out!

- Minka betrayed a small fierce death ... - entered another one.

- Drag, drag, there is no need to basl here. When we put it on the fire, then we will begin to list her guilt.

- Exactly! - Someone tall and thin, in a long brown robe, either a local priest or a wandering preacher, entered into the conversation. - Let the witch credit her crimes! Let him repent in the fiery font, on the edge of death! Let be…

“Forgive me, dean,” interrupted the priest Radovan. - We came, however.

- Hm. That's right, yes, they came, son. Nice place, clean, prayerful. You kept your idols in order, well done, my children, I praise. There are few places where the Ancient Gods are worshiped properly now, like yours - that's why they all have disasters, apostates! And the witch - give her here, for brushwood! Yes, tie to the post, by the elbows, like that!

The monoliths were decorated with narrow-eyed faces, roughly carved directly on the stone. All - with gaping mouths full of huge teeth. The appearance of these entities was in no way conducive to worship.

In the very middle of this circle there was a pillar, unlike the others, it was smooth and not gray, but somehow smoky. At its foot was a huge pile of firewood, lined with bundles of brushwood on all sides.

It was to this post that the six porters began to fasten their wheezing, hissing, like a wild cat, load.

- Hurry up, children! For witches burn well at night, driving away evil spirits and all harmful creatures!

Meanwhile, the rest of the procession with torches - men and women, old men and old women, probably the entire population of the village - had pulled up to the Seven Stones.

- Then take off the bag from her! And now listen, witch, to the list of your atrocities! - raising his voice, the priest announced with unexpected shrill notes. - For you are a vessel of alien abominations, a vessel of ...

He wanted to say something else, but at that moment something rustled over the heads of the crowd. From above, an invisible ice wave, the cold breath of winter, crashed down.

- A-ah-ah! Flies, flies! - some young woman squealed.

- Who's flying? Where is it flying to? - the priest jumped up. He stumbled out of the blue, waved his hands absurdly and released a torch.

The fire flowed over the brushwood, crackled merrily, rushing up to the girl huddled in the bonds.

Sharp whistle of the wings. The icy wind became cutting, the people backed away - and right on the heap of brushwood, burning on one side, a tall dark figure appeared, wrapped in a cloak, so reminiscent of the wings of a bat.

- What's the matter, my good ploughmen? Mes bons agriculteurs? Ce qui se passe ici? What's going on here? - the newcomer asked. A pale face and dazzling white teeth, whiter than snow. - Whom are you here going to burn at night looking? Wait, wait, let me guess - la sorcière? Witch? Which, of course, spoiled the crops with her witchcraft, caused the death of livestock, miscarriages in pregnant women, maybe even the death of apparently healthy children?

Either he threw something into the fire, or he really had some kind of power, but the flame soared, roared, brushwood and firewood flared up instantly.

The bound girl screamed, sitting down, wildly.

The creature next to her grinned viciously, hissed.

A wave of a dark cloak - and the belts burst, the condemned witch fell into the arms of her savior with a bundle.

In one leap, he jumped off the pile of burning firewood, his clothes smoldering in many places were smoking, long pointed fangs were clearly visible in the dark cut of his mouth.

- Womper! - shouted one of the more courageous men.

Probably, the villagers should have rushed to flee in horror at the sight of such fear; but in the Wasteland there lived a strong and stumpy people, albeit poor, and oppressed by labor. Many came to the trial not only with torches, but also with axes, and with pointed stakes, and with pitchforks, and with flails, and with all such weapons, at which only those who have never had to be under his blows can laugh.

Despite the screams and screams, in a single moment a solid wall rose up in front of the vampire and the semi-insensible victim hanging on him - drekolya, pitchfork, scythes, beast spears-spears. The men backed away, but did not run.

- All right, everyone! - barked the same uncle Mikhas. - Press on all sides of the womper!

The vampire looked around quickly - so quickly that hardly anyone could see his movement. For some reason, he could not throw himself back into a bat, and stood there, supporting the barely living witch girl with one hand. He hissed again, snorted with an angry cat, put out his right hand, on which impressive claws suddenly flashed.

However, the gloomy, determined, not very much afraid of the "vomper" men pressed forward, and the points of their stakes with pitchforks swayed menacingly already in some six or seven feet.

The vampire darted from his seat, swinging his free right hand in a crisscross pattern. The claws cut into a thick stake, went through it, leaving an even cut, but their sharpness played a cruel joke on the vampire - he did not beat the peasant weapon aside, he did not even make it more blunt, just the opposite.

The stake hit him in the shoulder, threw him back, and the vampire had to dodge with his whole body, slipping under the pitchfork that threw in his back. The crowd almost closed over him; claws flashed again, someone who was too close screamed, and at that moment a weighty flail fell on the ghoul's head with all its might.

Dark blood poured out in a stream, but the vampire seemed to be waiting for just that. The right hand grabbed the flail, pulled the impudent fighter towards itself, and he with great force flew forward with his chest straight into the points of the pitchfork and spear. The vampire followed.

The instant confusion of the men cost them two more - the claws opened the neck of one, took off half of the face of the other. Throwing aside the third, pushing the fourth, the vampire cleared the way for himself and, throwing the witch over his shoulder, jumped away, to the dark forest covered with fogs.

Behind him, the wounded screamed terribly, the crowd shouted. A thrown spear whistled, stabbed into her back - as soon as the girl was not hurt - the ghoul growled, wheezed in pain, jerked, bringing his shoulder blades almost together. The shaft fell out, blood spurting out of the wound in a wave, dark, smoking like earthen oil.

He crashed into a thicket, and there they no longer pursued him.

* * *

- Thank you! - The girl was good. As expected, a redhead with green eyes - such in the villages are always suspected of witchcraft, especially jealous wives, noticing the glances of their men, directed at the "shameless redhead."

Megaliths of the Empire. Nick Perumov - Hunters

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