01 - Day of the Daemon

by Aaron Rosenberg - (ebook by Undead)

  “Well, that worked better than expected,” he admitted quietly.

  For a time, everything was confused. Dietz remembered watching the charge cut through the warband and emerge on the far side. He remembered Druber turning back towards them and attacking again, only with the rest of the Empire soldiers striking from the other side. The orcs were distracted, confused, just as Haas had planned. Their ranks broke, each orc fighting for himself, and Druber vanished in their midst, though from time to time Dietz caught glimpses of him.

  Then a handful of orcs decided either to flee the fight or to circle around and attack from the side. They made for the pass, the very same one where Dietz and the others waited, and suddenly he was no longer a bystander in this war, but an unwilling participant. The orcs mobbed them, bellowing, grunting and howling, and Dietz lost track of the others, concentrating upon his borrowed axe and his horse, and whichever orc appeared before him. When a hand landed on his shoulder he shook it off. It landed again, and again he pulled free. Then it reached for his reins and he swung about, axe at the ready—to find Fastred there, crossbow in his lap, a shallow cut on one leg and a look of concern upon his face.

  “Put that down,” the explorer insisted, and Dietz let the axe sag to his side, realising that most of the orcs were already dead. He watched as Kleiber and Kristoff dispatched the last two.

  “We won,” he said in a daze.

  “Never mind that,” Fastred told him. “Look.” He gestured towards the mouth of the pass and beyond, where Haas and his men were still battling the bulk of the orc warband. The Empire soldiers looked to be holding their own, but Dietz could see that the orcs were still strong as well.

  Dietz nodded. “Yes, so? It’s a war. We’re in it.”

  Fastred shook his head. “No, look at the ground.”

  Dietz looked again, trying to see the ground through the feet and hooves, and flashing blades. “It’s rock. So?”

  “Look at the blood.”

  There was blood everywhere. It sprayed in droplets, gushed in torrents, flowed in rivulets—wait. He looked again, trying to follow that last sight. Yes, the blood on the ground near them was flowing in a clear stream, away from their narrow passage and towards the front of the fight. Quickly he edged his horse forward a few steps, still watching. Now he could see more of the battle site and he studied the ground as much as he could from his vantage point. After a minute he was sure. The blood along the side was also pooling and flowing, towards the middle. The other side was the same, at least as best he could tell from here, and at last he glanced up at Fastred.

  “It’s all flowing towards one spot.”

  “Yes.” The portly explorer nodded. “I downed an orc—good shot, right in the throat—and saw it rushing past him as he fell. Then I noticed another stream of blood, a little way away, angling in the same direction.”

  Dietz met the other man’s eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing. “The sacrifice.”

  Fastred nodded. “The orcs drew Haas out to this spot. They wanted the fight here—that’s why they reached this point at dawn, knowing he’d prefer to attack then. They’re feeding the statue.”

  Dietz glanced around, searching for signs of their friends. “We need to gather the others.”

  “What about the war? We were told to guard this pass.”

  Dietz shook his head. “We did our part. It’s up to Haas now. We need to concentrate on our own mission.”

  It took some time to gather the others because a second group of orcs had charged them while Dietz and Fastred were off to the side, and they turned back to find their friends locked in battle once more. Kleiber was gleefully slaughtering orcs and only permitted himself to be dragged away when Dietz told him the statue was nearby. Alaric was easier to convince, but harder to reach; he was in the centre of the conflict, and only Holst’s presence nearby had kept him from being overrun. Adelrich was up on the cliff, but picked his way down as soon as he caught sight of Dietz signalling him. Kristoff was fighting furiously just beyond the passage, orcs on all sides, and it took Kleiber, Dietz and Holst to drag him clear. Finally they had killed or driven away the orcs and pulled their horses off to one side, where Fastred explained what he’d discovered.

  “That’s it!” Alaric was thrilled. “It’s got to be!” He turned to Adelrich. “If the blood’s flowing down, the statue has to be beneath. That means they got it down there somehow. We need to find the way in.”

  “It could be anywhere along either side,” Kristoff pointed out.

  “It could,” Alaric agreed, “but let’s hope not. We have to find it before it receives enough blood to open the portal.” He glanced at Fastred and Adelrich. “You two know more about rocks and paths than the rest of us combined. Is there any way to narrow it down?”

  Fastred thought about it. “The rock is the same on both sides,” he commented, “so that’s no help. This type of rock often develops cracks and caves, so there may be many such openings around here, but not all of them will lead to the right place.” He shrugged. “I suppose that’s not particularly useful.”

  “It’s honest,” Alaric reassured him, “and it’s better that we know our real chances.”

  “I’ve seen several openings along these cliffs already,” Adelrich added. “Most of them stopped just beyond the surface, though, so at least we can eliminate many of them easily.” He glanced up along the sides of their passage, and then out towards the main pass, where the battle still raged. “I suppose I’d best search along here first. If it isn’t here we’ll have to venture out and check the cliffs as best we can.”

  Alaric nodded. “We’ll do our best to cover you,” he assured the scout. Adelrich nodded and clambered up the rough side of the passage until he reached the top. He perched on a small ledge and began examining that side. After perhaps an hour he climbed back down.

  “Nothing here that leads deeper than a few feet,” he told the others. “It has to be out there somewhere.”

  “All right.” Alaric kicked his horse into motion, walking it towards the passage entrance. “Let’s go.”

  The others followed him and they eased their way out into the pass. Once they were a few feet out, Adelrich slipped out behind them and began searching the cliff on that side. He examined every opening he found, ducking his head in when necessary and twice disappearing inside before returning. Each time he shook his head. The others stayed as close behind him as they could, skirting the larger battle and picking off any orcs who ventured near them.

  A short way beyond the battle, back the way the orcs had come, Adelrich was heading towards a crack when he saw an orc emerging from another gap a little farther down. Quickly the scout pulled his bow, strung it, nocked an arrow and fired, taking the orc in the throat. Before the body had fallen, Adelrich raced towards it and disappeared into the rocks where it had emerged. A moment later he reappeared and waved the others over.

  “It’s a cave,” he told them when they reached him, standing half inside a wide crack. “It goes down and around, probably beneath the valley floor.” He grinned. “Signs of something heavy being dragged along.”

  “Let’s go.” Alaric hopped down from his horse and slapped its flank, sending it racing down the pass past the cave. He hoped all the orcs were already here, leaving none to molest his poor mount as it fled. The others followed suit, their horses eagerly taking the opportunity to flee the battle so close behind them.

  The passage was so narrow that Kleiber and Fastred had difficulty squeezing through in places, though Dietz pointed out orcs would have the same problem.

  Once inside, they lit the torches Adelrich pulled from his pack, and followed the scout as he led them down a twisting path. The marks along the floor were clear in the flickering torchlight—something large and heavy had scraped through here. They passed several branching passages, but kept to the marks, and finally emerged in an oblong cavern well below the ground.

  The first thing Dietz noticed as he stepped in was t
he height. Along much of the tunnel he had been forced to crouch to keep from banging his head against the ceiling. Here, he could straighten up and even reach above him without touching rock. The second thing he noticed was the size of the cavern. It could fit all of them easily along one side, making it larger than Haas’ command tent by a significant margin. The third thing he noticed was the protrusions. This cavern was the size of a large room, but it was not empty. It had its own furniture, rock spurs jutting out along the wall, springing up from the floor and hanging from the ceiling, as if someone had festooned the place with ribbons, garlands and drapes, and then transformed them all to stone.

  The fourth thing he noticed was the statue.

  It was right in front of them, perhaps forty feet away—and nearly ten feet up. The centre of the room was thick with those strange rock projections, jutting every which way, and somehow the statue had been placed in their midst. It was held well above the ground, supported by several loops of stone from both ceiling and floor, and only the faint reddish tint distinguished it from the grey stone around it. He could only see its base, besides—the head and shoulders had been inserted in a crack in the ceiling, wedging it firmly in place. Drops of blood dripped down it, raising oddly bright streaks along its surfaces. Clearly the centre of the depression was just above that crack.

  “We’ve found it!” Alaric had eyes only for the statue, as did Kristoff. Fortunately, Adelrich was peering around the chamber, raising his torch high to see the other side. His quiet hiss alerted them, as did the sound of his sword sliding from its scabbard.

  “Show yourself!” Kleiber shouted, raising his pistol, but the command proved unnecessary. They heard a barked order even as the witch hunter issued his demand. A moment later they all saw what Adelrich had seen, as a dozen orc warriors stomped into view on the far side of the cavern. They had their own weapons at the ready and hurled themselves at the party with harsh cries. Kleiber leaped to meet them, Kristoff and Dietz right behind him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Sigmar!” Kleiber’s battle-cry rang out as he charged the orcs, his pistol levelled at the frontmost warrior. A loud crack resounded through the chamber as he fired, the orc collapsing in a spray of blood and bone, but the sound echoed on, shaking the rock all around and blinding them with rock dust.

  “We have to get that statue!” Alaric tugged Fastred and Adelrich back as they moved to help their friends. “Leave them! They’ll handle the orcs. We have to deal with that!” He jabbed a finger towards the statue, and the other two reluctantly let themselves be dragged towards the room’s centre and the statue embedded there.

  “We can hack it to bits,” Adelrich suggested, sword raised, but Alaric shook his head.

  “Too high up,” he pointed out. “Even if we can climb up there, we’d be easy targets for those orcs.” All three of them glanced back towards the battle and then resolutely turned away.

  “We could shoot if,” Fastred offered, raising his crossbow. Again Alaric disagreed.

  “It’s wedged in place,” he said, gesturing towards it. “That crack is holding it together, and we can’t get a clear shot anyway, not with all that rock in the way.”

  “We have another problem,” Adelrich pointed out, brushing rock dust from his hair. “Kleiber’s shot was enough to create small cracks throughout this chamber. That’s what caused the dust. If we fire again we could bring the roof crashing down.” He shook his head. “It might destroy the statue, but it would certainly take us with it.”

  Alaric frowned. “We have to risk that—we can’t leave it here, and the longer it sits the more blood it absorbs. We’d need a clean shot, or several shots close together.” He tapped his chin. “We don’t have time to waste.”

  Alaric forced himself to think, ignoring the sounds of battle behind them. Blackpowder would definitely be more effective than steel, but the statue was well shielded by the rock, and held in place as well. They needed to hit it hard all at once and blow it apart: a concentrated strike. This reminded him of his early firearms instruction, and something his instructor had said about proper care and storage, and he slapped his thigh.

  “Got it!” he announced, turning towards their embattled companions. “Kleiber, I need your pistol and supplies!” The witch hunter was tugging his sword free of an orc corpse, parrying another’s blow with his dagger, but he heard and nodded. A quick thrust killed the second orc, and then he stepped back to where he’d dropped the empty pistol. A quick kick sent it skittering towards Alaric, and Kleiber tossed his pouch of bullets and his powder horn after it. Adelrich caught the horn and Fastred fumbled, but managed to hold onto the pouch. Then Kleiber returned to the fray, parrying a blow that would have removed Dietz’s arm, and carving off the offending orc’s hand in return.

  “We’re shooting it?” Adelrich asked as Alaric quickly prepared the pistol. “Despite the risk?”

  “Shooting, yes,” Alaric replied, “but not the statue itself.” He finished loading the pistol and then emptied the remaining bullets into his own belt pouch. Next he poured the powder horn’s contents into the bullet pouch and tied it tight. Finally he turned back towards the fight. “Dietz!”

  Between them Kleiber, Dietz and Kristoff had finished off five of the orcs. At Alaric’s shout Dietz hacked again at his current opponent, lopping off its right leg and then slashing its throat as it fell. Then he turned and trotted over to Alaric, sidestepping another orc who darted past him. “What?”

  “I need Glouste.”

  The others stared at him, but Alaric ignored them, concentrating on Dietz whose face had set in a familiar stubborn glare. “Don’t, Dietz,” Alaric warned him. “There isn’t time.” He pointed up at the statue. “We need to destroy that right away.” He showed Dietz the pistol he held in one hand and the pouch in the other. “I need Glouste to climb up there and set this bag against the statue. Then I can shoot it. The bag has the rest of Kleiber’s blackpowder. When it’s hit it will explode, shattering the statue.”

  “That’s all you need from Glouste?” Dietz asked, still frowning. “To climb up there and deposit that bag?”

  “That’s it.”

  “All right.” He made a strange chittering sound and a furry head poked from his jacket. “Come on, Glouste.” The tree-monkey—no, Alaric corrected himself, tree-fox—climbed from her warm nesting place up onto his shoulder, rubbing her forehead against his cheek. “Yes, I know.” Dietz held out his hand and Alaric handed him the bag, which he then held towards his pet. “See this bag, Glouste? I need you to take this bag up there.” He pointed up towards the statue, and the tree-fox chittered rapidly, tail puffing out. “Yes, I know—it’s ugly. I don’t like it either, but I need you to take this bag up to the top and leave it there. Will you do that?” Glouste was still chirruping at him, practically vibrating with anger, excitement or fear, Alaric couldn’t tell which.

  “Glouste!” Dietz’s tone sharpened, and his pet froze, watching him intently. He held the pouch right in front of her face. “Take this up there. Please?” As if she’d been waiting for him to ask politely, the tree-fox finally leaned out and clamped her small, sharp teeth onto the bag. Then she bumped his chin once more and leaped from his shoulder to the nearest rock formation. She began scampering up, her claws finding ready footholds, and in a moment she was high above their heads.

  “Sigmar! Sigmar!” Kleiber’s battle-cry resounded again, and the others glanced towards him, surprised he and Kristoff had not finished off the remaining orcs yet. They quickly saw why.

  Apparently the orc that had moved past Dietz a moment ago had not been charging; it had been fleeing, but not far. Now it returned with a dozen orcs behind it. They had already surrounded Kleiber, and Dietz, and Adelrich and Fastred quickly joined the fray, adding their blades and bolts to the fight. Alaric drew his rapier and skewered the nearest orc, but kept the pistol ready and turned so that he could keep an eye on Glouste’s progress. The nimble tree-fox was negotiating a cluster of rock halfway b
etween them and the statue. She needed more time.

  “We need more time,” he shouted to the others, who nodded. Unfortunately, the orcs must have understood as well, because one towards the rear drew a large horn from his belt and blasted out a resounding note upon it. Almost immediately they heard a second horn blare in reply, and the distant sound of more footsteps growing rapidly closer.

  “They’ve got another way in!” Adelrich called, narrowly avoiding an axe blow and slashing the orc across the chest in return. “If that horn blast reached the valley we could have the entire warband down upon us!”

  “I know!” Alaric stabbed at another orc, who wisely retreated. He glanced over his shoulder. “She’s almost there!” It was true—Glouste was mere feet from the statue. She had hesitated when the orc horn had sounded, frightened by the almost deafening noise in that small space, and by the vibrations it had created in the rock, but she quickly gathered herself and started moving again.

  “She needs time to get clear!” Dietz hollered back, clubbing an orc with the side of his axe and then slicing its face as it reeled back from the blow.

  “No time!” Fastred shouted, firing at an orc and narrowly missing Kristoff’s arm. “We need to end this now!”

  Dietz paused and glanced at Alaric, their eyes locking. Finally he nodded. “Do it.” He looked up to where Glouste had reached the statue, and then turned away, unable to watch.

  “Run, Glouste,” Alaric whispered, knowing it wouldn’t help. Either the tree-fox would escape or she wouldn’t. The same was true for the rest of them. The statue was more important than any of their lives. Dietz knew that. Alaric suspected his pet did as well. That didn’t make the pistol any less heavy as he raised it, took careful aim, and fired.