[Daemon Gates 02] - Night of the Daemon

by Aaron Rosenberg - (ebook by Undead)

  They found a single wide stone door at the bottom of the staircase. The door bore a carving of Djaf, the jackal-headed death god, his arms crossed and a fierce scowl baring his fangs. Unlike the doors from the shaft this one had a normal handle made of gem-inlaid silver.

  “That’s it,” Alaric said softly. “The burial chamber should be behind that door.”

  “What we waiting for, then?” Thorgrek demanded. Before anyone could stop him he reached out and grasped the door handle, giving it a quick turn and a hard shove. The door flew open and several guards stepped back, glancing around and raising their weapons in case anything attacked them.

  A vast room opened out before them, easily the largest they had seen yet. Six massive pillars lined the walls, three on each side, and the flowers carved into them were so fantastical that Alaric could not believe they came from real plants. More of the imposing giant stone guardians stood there, one beside each pillar, wearing different faces from the four in the receiving room. The floor was a mix of mosaic stone and granite flagstone worked together, and Alaric did not see any of Karitamen’s scarabs. Perhaps the king was symbolically beyond such trappings now. The walls certainly suggested that, showing the former king being led through an imposing hall by a priest.

  “Have a care,” Therese called out, “for these statues too are marked by magic!” She indicated the guardians with one hand.

  Gunther laughed and Hammlich sneered but Woldred took her seriously. “Can you stop them?” he asked.

  The mage shook her head. “No, they are too strong. I can cloak us, however. If they do not see us they will not attack.”

  That sounded good enough for Alaric. He watched with interest as Therese made a series of elaborate gestures in the air, leaving faint trails like wisps of flame hanging before her. Her fingers glowed blue-white as she traced a symbol on Woldred’s forehead and then repeated the process for Goran, Thorgrek and Ehrl. Alaric let her do the same for him, smiling his thanks and receiving a surprisingly pretty smile in return. Dietz also allowed it, and Gunther finally nodded for his men to permit the marking as well. The symbols did not fade, leaving each of them with a faint blue design upon their skin.

  Therese looked exhausted after the process but she nodded. Woldred helped support her as they walked into the room, which was empty save for the pillars and their statues. Whether it was her magic or some other factor Alaric could not be sure, but the statues remained as still as stone and they passed by unhindered. There were several broad steps at the far end of the room, which led down into a smaller room that Alaric knew would be the crypt proper.

  “Who’s that?” Dietz asked quietly, nudging him and pointing back the way they had come. The door had swivelled shut again and carved on its back was an enormous snake, rearing up as if to strike. Jagged lines radiated from its head.

  Alaric stopped to stare and Dietz bumped him to keep up with the others and stay within Therese’s protective chanting. “I think it’s Asaph,” he whispered back, “goddess of vengeance and magic. She takes the form of a giant asp.” He continued to stare at the image. “That shouldn’t be there,” he said finally, turning back around.

  “Why not?”

  “This is the burial chamber,” Alaric explained. “No one should be here but the king and the god of the underworld. Asaph isn’t used on doors except as a mystic barrier, but to put her on the inside of the door, she’d have to be blocking something from exiting rather than entering!”

  “Karitamen?” Dietz asked, but Alaric shook his head.

  “No, the king would never reverse his steps,” he told his friend. “He’s moving forwards, not back. Strange.”

  The others were descending the stairs and Alaric and Dietz hastened to join them. The steps were plain granite, not marked or decorated in any way. So was the granite floor beyond. The room itself was short but as wide as the rest of the burial chamber, with white plaster walls bearing a green wave motif along the bottom third. The ceiling showed the scarab constellation again, and the sun beginning to rise in the east. Two plain wooden doors were set into the back wall. Alaric noticed these details in passing because most of his attention was drawn to the sarcophagus.

  It occupied most of the crypt. Made of some red stone, its top had been carved to show the Death Scarab, stretched out as if asleep although his eyes were open, dressed in full armour over funeral wrappings, the crook and flail crossed upon his chest. The lid had been set aside, however, and was leaning against the far wall between the two doors. A coffin rested inside the sarcophagus. It was made of wood inlaid with gold, and its lid was painted to show Karitamen but it had also been removed. A third coffin lay within that and then another, although this last was made of gold and precious gems rather than wood or stone. Its lid leaned against the side wall as well, so that four Karitamens seemed to stand around the room watching them.

  The innermost sarcophagus was open, and Alaric’s eyes were tugged in that direction. The coffin was lined with crimson silk, including the small headrest, and a figure was laid out there, its head upon that cushion, the flail and crook in its hands. It was Karitamen.

  The Death Scarab had certainly seen better days. Unlike his carved and painted doppelgangers the king’s body had crumbled away, the bandages rotting off to reveal bleached bones beneath. His armour hung about him loosely, empty air visible between its blue-enamelled metal and the white of his ribs. Below his blue helm was a bare skull, its sockets empty.

  Then the skull turned towards them.

  Alaric froze, as did the others. He stared, unable to move, as the skeleton shifted and hauled itself upright. Then one foot flopped over the edge of the sarcophagus, followed by the other. With a faint creak and the clatter of bones against metal, the long-dead king rose from his coffin and stood facing them. A fiery light glowed in its eye sockets, bright as the sun but no larger than a pinprick.

  Then it opened its mouth, the jaws groaning, and words issued forth from between its rotted, blackened teeth. Alaric knew he was hearing true Nehekharan spoken for the first time, although the voice was little more than a rusty croak. He could not decipher the speech but it was clear that the long-dead king was speaking to them, and somehow the tone sounded less angry than… welcoming? Hungry?

  It lurched towards them.

  “Grungni’s beard!” Thorgrek gasped, almost falling as he back-pedalled rapidly, his pickaxe rising to present its axe blade to this new foe. “Tis a liche!” The name made Dietz’s skin crawl. He had heard stories of the foul undead creatures, although he had always thought them mere legends and ghost stories.

  “Back, foul creature!” Therese shrieked, her hands working in some intricate pattern. Dietz could only hope it was meant to protect them.

  Most of the others stood frozen in fear, Alaric among them. Dietz swallowed his own terror and shouldered into his friend, knocking the younger man to the floor just as the skeletal king swung his flail. The heavily beaded lashes whipped past Dietz’s shoulder, right where Alaric had stood an instant before, one of the beads bruising his upper arm as the creature pulled its arm back for a second strike.

  “Kill it!” Gunther shouted, drawing his own blade, apparently not realising the folly of his statement. How could you kill something that was clearly already dead?

  There was no doubt about it, Karitamen was long since deceased. Dietz could see the king’s bones clearly through armour and wrappings, and the king’s skull stared out at him from its imposing blue helm.

  The guards understood their lieutenant’s command. Two of them fired their crossbows at the approaching king, but the bolts passed harmlessly through its body. The others dropped the ranged weapons and drew their axes, swords and maces, clustering around their commander. Woldred had his sword out, and Goran drew his longsword, leaving the larger blade on his back because the crypt was too tight to wield it effectively. The two men and Thorgrek arrayed themselves in front of Therese, who was once again chanting.

  Ehrl, unfortunately
, was as stunned as Alaric had been, and Woldred could not reach him in time. They all heard the sickening crack as the liche’s crook flashed out, its gold and blue bands gleaming, and struck the scholar solidly in the temple. He fell like a sack of flour, dark blood spilling from his shattered skull to seep across the floor.

  “Damn you!” Thorgrek roared, his pickaxe describing a fierce arc as it sliced through the air. But the liche was too fast and sidestepped before the blow could land. It swung its flail in return, the lashes striking the dwarf solidly across the helm, and he staggered but did not fall.

  Two of Gunther’s guards stepped forwards, wielding an axe and a mace respectively, and attacked Karitamen from either side. The liche shrugged off their blows and his crook and flail struck in return, the former caving in one guard’s chest while the latter crushed the other guard’s throat. Only six guards were left around Gunther and Hammlich, and they seemed less inclined to attack after seeing their companions’ fates.

  Unfortunately for them, Karitamen was not willing to wait. The liche king advanced up the steps, closing on the guards before they could retreat. Gunther’s sword licked out, only to be blocked by the liche’s crook, but the lieutenant had his dagger in his other hand and used it to block the responding flail attack. His guards attacked while the liche was occupied and managed to score several hits, although the creature’s bone somehow withstood the attacks from blade and mace.

  Alaric had slipped down the stairs and behind the sarcophagus while this occurred, and Dietz hastened after him, even though he was torn when Glouste suddenly chose this moment to vacate her safe haven in his jacket. His pet leapt free and dashed back up the stairs and across the burial chamber, chattering as she went. Dietz almost ran after her, but decided she could probably look after herself better than Alaric could.

  It proved to be a wise choice. The young nobleman was peering into the inner coffin, and as Dietz approached he reached in and lifted something from the cushions there. It was a gauntlet of some sort, although Dietz had a hard time seeing it clearly. Perhaps it was the lighting, or the confusion from battle, but all he could tell was the general shape and the presence of sharp spikes down its length.

  Unfortunately he was not the only one who noticed Alaric’s find. The liche had just impaled a guard on his crook, hooking the curved rod into the man’s abdomen right through his mail, but it turned as Alaric lifted the gauntlet clear of the sarcophagus.

  Karitamen shrieked something, dropping the crook where it lay imbedded in the dying man and turning towards them. It screamed in obvious rage and leapt down the stairs, tossing aside its flail as it came and drawing two hook-swords from scabbards at its side. Alaric ducked in time to avoid being split by the first bronze blade and Dietz’s mace blocked the second, even though the force drove the mace back into his head and nearly downed him from the impact.

  The liche spat something in its native tongue, swinging again. Dietz ducked the blow and dodged towards the stairs, seeing as he did, that Gunther and his men had already taken advantage of the respite to quit the crypt for the relative safety of the larger room.

  Unfortunately they had forgotten about the statues there, and Therese was busy mumbling something and flinging lines of wavy light at the bloodthirsty liche. Apparently whatever she had done before had worn off or required her constant attention, and without her protection the statues awoke to their presence. One guard did not even have time to scream as a hawk-faced stone guardian’s sword severed his head from his torso with a single swipe.

  “Get out of here!” Gunther shouted, retreating. He sidestepped a blow from one statue and returned it with a strike that would have killed a man but bounced harmlessly off the guardian’s stone torso. He and his guards ran across the room, another dying under a guardian’s attack. The remaining three reached the far door with Gunther and Hammlich and burst through it.

  That left Woldred, Goran, Thorgrek and Therese trapped with Alaric and Dietz, and the liche.

  “Go!” Dietz shouted at the other explorers. “Get out while it’s distracted!” Woldred hesitated for a second, and then nodded. He and Goran made a break for it, charging across the room, dodging the statues and reaching the far door safely.

  Thorgrek had turned to follow them. As he did, however, he spied a large ruby sitting upon one of the steps. Dietz had not noticed it either, but he saw it sparkle in the torchlight as the dwarf bent down to retrieve the gem.

  “Thorgrek, no!” Dietz shouted, but it was too late. The dwarf clutched the ruby in his thick fingers, and as he lifted it from the step they heard a click. Then a large stone block smashed the dwarf onto the step, crushing him beneath its weight. Blood oozed out from between the stones and Therese screamed.

  “Sigmar’s hammer!” Dietz cursed. “Alaric, get out of here!”

  Alaric nodded and ducked back around the sarcophagus, still clutching the strange gauntlet. He sidled past Thorgrek’s grisly remains and grabbed Therese by the arm. “Come on!” he told her urgently.

  The mage nodded and reached up to sketch a new pattern on Alaric’s brow. Then she dashed over to Dietz, barely avoiding a stroke from the liche’s sword, and did the same to him. Then she began to chant again…

  …and Karitamen lowered his sword, turning this way and that in confusion, his glowing eyes peering right through Dietz and past him.

  The spell! Therese had somehow rendered them invisible to the creature! Dietz took back everything bad he had ever said about magic and about mages in particular as he turned and made his way carefully back up the steps and across the pillared room. Alaric was right beside him, guiding Therese across.

  Fortunately the spell worked on the statues as well, and they returned to their stances by the pillars, convinced that the intruders had all been dispatched. Karitamen knew better but could not locate them. The liche did climb the steps, however, and stalked across the floor, his blades spinning around him. If those swords came close enough he wouldn’t have to see them.

  Just as Dietz reached the far door he heard a familiar chattering sound. He looked up and saw Glouste on the doorframe above him, a strange amulet hanging from a chain in her mouth.

  “Get down here!” he told her sharply and the tree-fox leapt onto his shoulder and curled up, buzzing happily about her find.

  Unfortunately Therese had not marked Glouste with her magic, and Dietz saw the liche’s head swivel around, until its glowing eyes locked upon her, there on his neck. The dead king charged towards them, both blades held high for the attack.

  “Out! Now!” Dietz grabbed Alaric and all but tossed him through the door. Then he did the same with Therese and darted through after her, shutting the door just before the first sword connected. He heard the thud of bronze on stone and a low hiss as the liche voiced its frustration.

  They were out.

  “Will that hold it?” Gunther asked. The others were all clustered in the room before the burial chamber, weapons up, faces pale.

  “It should,” Alaric gasped, catching his breath. “The door has been warded.” He grimaced. “Now we know why.”

  “Time to leave,” Dietz insisted, and everyone nodded their agreement.

  “If Levrellian wants anything else from that room,” Gunther added, glancing at the door behind them, “he can get it himself!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  They passed back through the treasure room, Gunther and his remaining men collecting more gold and gems as they went, and from there out into the pits.

  They would have run at that point. Alaric certainly wanted to and he was sure the others felt the same. The urge to abandon all reason and flee full-speed for the entranceway and the calm, rational world outside was almost overwhelming. Fortunately cooler heads prevailed. One guard started to bolt once they’d climbed from the pits but Gunther and Hammlich caught him before he could take a single step.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Hammlich hissed. “The floor is trapped, remember?” The guard froze, eyes wide. “Now,”
the scout said, “follow me.”

  He retraced the route Thorgrek had plotted exactly, an impressive feat, but stopped halfway across, staring at something atop one of the latticeworks. Alaric looked as well and saw a mummified cat. It had not been there earlier. As he watched, it turned glowing eyes towards them and uttered a series of sharp meows, the sounds strangely like words.

  “Kill it!” Therese said behind him, gasping. Her efforts in the crypt had exhausted her. “Quickly!”

  One of the guards obediently raised his crossbow but the creature had leapt across the grille work and was upon him before he could pull the trigger. The man screamed, the cloth-wrapped feline’s jagged claws having sliced open his face, but the screams turned to shrieks as the wounds burst into flames. The others backed away as the man fell to the ground, convulsing, and half-rolled, half-jerked off the path, the lattice snapping open to drop him into the nearest pit. After a moment he stopped moving. The cat, meanwhile, sat daintily in front of them and began licking its claws with a desiccated tongue.

  “Now what do we do?” Gunther demanded, raising his hand to stop another guard from trying the same tactic. Most of the others looked equally confused but Alaric glanced at Dietz, who grinned.

  “You need to be the right size,” he said. Then he whistled. Alaric bit back a laugh as he saw some of the guards start at the small, furry head that popped up out of his friend’s jacket. Apparently some of them hadn’t noticed Glouste until now.

  He’d never been sure just how smart the tree-fox was but fortunately this situation didn’t require any explanation. Glouste glanced around, spotted the strange mummy-cat, and hissed. The cat hissed back, spine arching, tail pointing straight up. Then the tree-fox leapt from Dietz’s jacket to the ground and the fight was on.

  Glouste was hampered slightly by a chain she had clutched in her mouth, but the cat’s bandages hampered it in turn, and of the two, the tree-fox proved to be the faster. They exchanged blows, claws raking fur and wraps respectively. Then Glouste ducked beneath an attack and, faster than Alaric could follow, somehow wrapped herself around her undead foe. All four paws fastened securely, claws deep in the bandages across the cat’s chest and then Glouste gave a fierce tug and the cat was torn open, what was left of its innards spilling out onto the walkway. Two of the guards and Therese were sick over the side, but the cat slumped, the glow in its eyes fading away. Glouste preened for a moment before returning to Dietz’s shoulder and he scratched it affectionately.