Daemon Gates Trilogy

by Black Library

  It was hard to tell in the bright daylight, but Dietz thought the witch hunter's blade did indeed begin to glow, albeit faintly. There was no mistaking the effect, however. Kleiber swung his sword before him in a crisp downward arc, and the shimmering air parted like a curtain. He charged through, and Dietz and Lankdorf were right behind him.

  As they closed the distance, Dietz got a better look at the two figures battling near Alaric, and almost skidded to a halt. One was a massive warrior, with armour that looked as if it was carved from night and shaped from blood, and torn from a vein of gold. Every inch of the heavy plate was sharp or hooked, or both. The other was a beastman, the largest Dietz had ever seen, with huge curling horns from his forehead, matted fur everywhere, and bone spikes pro­truding from his shoulders, chest, back, and arms. The creature also wore a rune-carved object covering one hand, a relic that Dietz knew he would never forget: the gauntlet from the liche king's tomb.

  'Is that-?' Lankdorf started to ask, staring at the creature's arm.

  'Yes.'

  'Myrmidia's spear,' the bounty hunter whispered in reply. This just gets worse and worse.'

  Dietz nodded, then shook himself. 'Come on.'

  The two figures had stepped away from Alaric, the beast­man smashing his gauntleted hand into the warrior's armoured chest and denting the heavy plate, the warrior responding by slamming his own fist into the creature's throat and tearing at it with the spikes along his armour. Dietz took the opportunity to skirt them and kneel beside Alaric, who seemed dazed, but happy to see them.

  'It was the only way,' Alaric was muttering as Dietz cut the ropes and helped him slip down from what he now realised was a shattered fountain. 'Sigmar forgive me, it was the only way.'

  'I'm sure he will,' Dietz said sharply, 'but only if we get out of here alive.'

  'Yes.' Lankdorf handed Alaric a crossbow he must have liberated from one of the beastmen, and Alaric accepted it absently. There was nothing distracted about the way he loaded a bolt and shot down a beastman loping towards them, however.

  The rest of the beastmen had entered the square, and the battle raged all around them. 'What happened to the elves?' Alaric asked, shooting another foe, but only catch­ing it in the shoulder. His rapier was missing, and Dietz assumed the beastmen had taken it at some point.

  'No idea,' Lankdorf replied, shooting a charging beast­man in the face, and then smashing another with the crossbow's heavy wooden stock. 'Don't much care, either.'

  'You'd better care,' Alaric replied sharply, firing his cross­bow at a beastman some way away, and taking the ugly brute in the head. There were others closer in, and Dietz wasn't sure why his friend had targeted that one, until Alaric ducked another's rush, sprinted over to the dead beastman, and lifted something from the body. 'Got it!' he shouted as he returned. He had his rapier in his hand.

  Dietz shook his head, using his mace to block another beastman's attack and cave in its skull on the return stroke. This is as bad as Vitrolle' he muttered.

  'Not quite,' Alaric corrected, skewering a beastman through the eye, and then swiftly pulling back so he could block another of the creatures from gutting him with a long jagged blade. 'There we had four different armies, and none of them particularly liked us;' he reminded him. 'Here it's just beastmen versus humans, nice and neat, unless the elves show, in which case it could get ugly. That's why you should care.'

  Dietz considered that. 'Fair enough,' he agreed after a second, 'but I-' He forgot what he had been about to say, however, as a large figure suddenly reared up behind them, its shadow enveloping all three of them in sudden dark­ness. 'Move!'

  The massive armoured figure and the towering beastman were grappling, neither able to overwhelm the other, and in their fury they trampled across the courtyard right by where Dietz, Alaric and Lankdorf were standing. The three of them darted to the side, narrowly avoiding being stepped on, but the two titans barely noticed.

  'I shall carve your flesh from your bones, and offer up your soul to the Blood God, who will drink it as if it were fine wine!' the armoured figure growled. His adversary did not dignify the threat with any reply beyond a savage snarl.

  'Who is that, and how do we stop him?' Dietz asked Alaric as they stepped further away from the two combat­ants, but apparently the armoured figure heard him.

  'I am Deathmaul, the chosen champion of the Blood God and his servant,' the warrior snarled, head swivelling to glare at Dietz through the slits in his horned helm. He drew himself up to his full height and glowered down at them. 'I have dedicated slaughters to his name since the Great War, and I will continue to do so long after your

  rotted corpses have fallen to dust, and your souls have become but a memory in my master's belly!'

  Dietz heard Alaric gasp, but was too busy staying beyond both figures' reach to see what had troubled his friend. 'It's you,' he heard Alaric say slowly. 'I saw you!'

  'Yes, and I shall be the last sight you see,' Deathmaul snarled, scowling at them, before returning his attention to the beastman still pounding on him. 'You disrupted the ritual, but I shall tear out your eyes and swallow them whole, along with your still-beating heart. Perhaps my master will smile upon such a sacrifice.'

  Ritual? Sacrifice? Dietz didn't have time to figure out what the Chaos champion was talking about. A pack of beastmen neared them, and he grabbed Alaric by the arm and tugged him out of the way just in time. His friend had stood frozen, still staring at Deathmaul, and the first beast- man's axe just missed cleaving him in two. Dietz slammed his mace into the beastman's head, sending the creature to the ground with a loud crack, then hurled his knife at another and took it in the throat. Glouste, disturbed by all the commotion, stuck her head out of his jacket, took one look at the massive armoured figure before them, and dis­appeared back inside, whimpering. Dietz could hardly blame her.

  Just as Dietz was drawing his second knife and wonder­ing how he and his two friends could handle this many beastmen at once, he heard several whistling shrieks, and watched as three long feathered shafts shot past, each tak­ing a beastman in the throat. Alaric skewered another, and Lankdorf shot a fifth, giving Dietz a second to breathe and retrieve his first knife. He also glanced back over his shoul­der, and saw that he had guessed right; he hadn't thought any of the mercenaries were carrying longbows.

  The elves had arrived. He wasn't sure where they had come from, exactly, but he spotted several perched on bro­ken columns and rooftops, releasing arrows into the melee

  and unerringly striking beastmen dead every time. Other elves were in the courtyard, wielding long leaf-bladed swords that glimmered silver in the sunlight, carving their way through the beastmen and through any humans that got in their way.

  Dietz definitely considered the elves' arrival a good thing, however. There were far more beastmen than Kleiber had mercenaries, and the creatures far surpassed them in strength and ferocity.

  Judging by the sudden loud report nearby and the way a mercenary jerked back, his hand a smoking ruin, the crea­tures had apparently just remembered that they had blackpowder weapons.

  Looking around, Dietz saw that several beastmen stood along one of the crumbling balconies overlooking this courtyard. Each of them held a blackpowder rifle, and sighted their weapons down upon the men fighting below.

  'Take out the rifles!' Dietz shouted, though he wasn't sure anyone could hear him over the general tumult. He snatched up a fallen crossbow, fitted a bolt to it, and fired it, narrowly missing one of the beastmen on the balcony, but drawing its attention.

  Someone had been listening, however, or at least had reached the same conclusion as him. The beastman in question suddenly reeled backward, an arrow protruding from its left eye. The rifle went off, firing up towards the sky, and the dying beastman toppled into the creature next to it before crumpling onto the balcony floor.

  More arrows followed. Then Dietz heard another rifle shot, but it hadn't come from the balcony, and one of the beastmen toppled, its head shatte
red by a well-placed bul­let. Looking around, Dietz saw Wilcreitz at one side of the courtyard, the eight mercenaries who'd accompanied him right beside him. They all had rifles.

  'Yes!' Dietz shouted as the bestial rifle squad was cut down. One or two of them got off shots, but the rest fell

  before they could bring their rifles to bear. Then Wilcreitz and his men turned their weapons towards the courtyard and began picking off beastmen. Suddenly, it looked like they might actually survive this battle.

  'We need to stop him!' Alaric shouted, grabbing at Dietz's arm and leaning in close so he could be heard over the sounds of combat. 'Come on!'

  'Who?' Dietz shouted back, snagging Lankdorf as Alaric half-dragged him towards what looked like a ruined foun­tain near the courtyard's centre. 'The beastmen on the balcony?'

  'Deathmaul,' Alaric replied, not slowing down. "We have to keep him away from the mask!'

  'The mask is here?' Dietz asked, trying to process everything his friend had said. 'Where?' He followed Alaric back over to the fountain. Resting there was something Dietz wished he had never seen before, and fervently hoped he would never have to see again, despite their recent pursuit of it: the mask from Ind. He reminded himself that over there, on the arm of that monstrosity battling the Chaos champion, was the gauntlet: both of them finely crafted, both of them dis­quieting to look upon, and both of them dedicated to Chaos and its gods. It was too much. 'What in Ulric's name do we do now?' he demanded.

  'I don't know,' Alaric admitted quietly, resting a hand on the fountain to steady himself. 'I saw him, Dietz, in the vision in that valley. That's who I saw: Deathmaul, and an entire Chaos army, maybe even during the Great War Against Chaos. He was battling a Sigmarite named Talbek.' He shook his head. 'Deathmaul won, obviously.'

  'We have Sigmarites,' Lankdorf pointed out quickly, 'the witch hunters.'

  Alaric shook his head. 'Not like Talbek,' he explained. 'He was blessed, a true champion of Sigmar. He hurt Deathmaul, just not enough.'

  Then the nobleman's eyes widened. 'His throat!' he whispered. Talbek struck Deathmaul in the throat with his shield, damn near took his head off! That's why his voice is so gruff, the wound never healed.'

  'So, what, we need to hit him in the throat again?' Dietz asked. He turned around and saw Deathmaul and the beastman still struggling together. As he watched, the beastman bashed Deathmaul with his forehead, the great horns gashing his armour and denting his helm. The Chaos champion was hurled from his feet, crushing a mer­cenary and two beastmen as he fell. When he stood, he was laughing, and in his hands he held the massive twin- bladed axe that appeared to be coated in blood.

  'Now you will perish!' Deathmaul shouted, striding unhurriedly across the courtyard. 'And I will rip that gaunt­let from your dead flesh!' A pair of mercenaries got in his way, and the massive Chaos champion split one in half with a blow from his axe, then swept it sideways and cut the other's torso from his midsection. Blood sprayed from both men, and the Chaos champion continued on with­out even glancing at his most recent victims.

  'I think so, yes,' Alaric agreed. That collar, though, the one around his neck, I think... I think the daemon gave it to him after the battle, to protect him. We need to remove that first.'

  Dietz groaned. 'How? Any suggestions?'

  Alaric nodded. 'Yes,' he said, 'but we have to get closer.'

  Dietz and Lankdorf both stared at him as if he were insane - and, judging by the noble's expression and the strange light in his eyes, maybe he was. 'Closer? To that?'

  'I know,' Alaric agreed, 'but I need to make sure he can hear me.'

  'You want Deathmaul to hear you?'

  'Not Deathmaul, Bloodgore.' Alaric pointed at the beast­man, who was goring an elf and shoving his gauntleted fist through a mercenary's chest at the same time.

  Dietz sighed. He had no idea what Alaric was talking about, but he did trust his employer. 'All right,' he said, blocking an approaching beastman's blow and shooting a crossbow bolt into the creature's forehead. 'Let's go.'

  They fought their way across the courtyard, as did both Deathmaul and Bloodgore. Dietz felt like the two titans were two mighty rivers rushing towards one another, and he and Alaric, and Lankdorf were a small stream being sucked into the whirlpool. Nor was it easy to get there. The courtyard was utter madness. Elves, humans and beastmen were all battling each other, lashing out with little concern for who they hit, and rains of arrows and hails of rifle fire added to the mayhem and bloodshed. Dietz caught another glimpse of the sorcerer, just in time to see him wave his hands and the mercenary before him literally rip in half as if torn apart by some colossal invisible force.

  They were, however, making headway, and were less than ten paces from both Bloodgore and Deathmaul, who were only a few paces from each other.

  'Right,' Dietz heard Alaric say beside him. Then his friend stiffened, his face turning bright red and his eyes rolling back. What was going on? Dietz caught Alaric as the noble began spasming, his head lolling, but then Alaric's mouth opened and he shouted something. Dietz had no idea what the words were, but he felt as if he could almost see them, like stains upon the air, and their very utterance made him shiver and sweat, and feel horribly unclean.

  Bloodgore also heard them, however, and the beastman turned to look over at Alaric. Then it nodded, and threw itself across the remaining distance, its entire bulk hurled like a missile at the startled Deathmaul.

  Bloodgore's gauntleted fist smashed into the Chaos champion's neck, its spikes slicing deep into the heavy col­lar, the impact sending cracks spiralling through the dark metal and etched stone alike.

  Dietz heard what sounded like a moan, which rose quickly to a shrill shriek. The air turned thick and fetid, swirling darkly overhead, battering him and choking him. Then he was tossed aside by some sort of explosion, as the wind, the shrieking and the smell all swept in and then burst outward.

  Shaking his head, Dietz sat up, and stared. Bloodgore lay nearby, the beastman's body twitching from pain and blood loss. His arm was gone from the elbow down, the gauntlet nothing but flakes of rust and a pile of ash just beyond his truncated limb. The circlet was gone without a trace.

  'You gain nothing, but your death,' Deathmaul choked out. The Chaos champion had been knocked to the ground, but staggered back to his feet. The circlet was gone without a trace, and black blood poured from a gaping wound at his neck, but still Deathmaul managed to haul himself up and raise his axe. Bloodgore tried to rise, but couldn't. His blood-flecked lips pulled back in a silent snarl as the champion's weapon struck, cleaving head from shoulders. Then the massive figure shuddered and lay still.

  'What does it take to kill him?' Lankdorf gasped beside Dietz. The bounty hunter had several cuts and scrapes from being hurled off his feet, and swayed slightly, staring at the victorious Deathmaul.

  'Someone of equal power,' Alaric said softly from behind them, 'someone like me.'

  The strange tone as much as the words made Dietz turn, dreading what he might see. He and Lankdorf had not been the only ones affected by the explosion. He saw other bodies nearby, beastman, human and elf alike, all tossed aside by the force of the two relics' destruction. The ruined fountain had been caught up in the event as well, its already shattered base blasted to rubble by the impact, and several chunks of stone had landed near them, as had the mask.

  It was this treasure that Alaric held. Then, in one swift move, Alaric brought his hands up. The mask of the tiger- god of Ind, slid onto his face as if they were two halves of a whole, finally brought together.

  'No!' Dietz shouted hoarsely, trying to get to his feet, but it was already too late. Alaric was standing bolt upright. The mask gleamed in the dim light, seeming to glow from within, and it looked as though Alaric's eyes caught fire, turning red-gold and almost cat-like.

  "Yes,' Alaric said, his voice rough. He rose smoothly to his feet. 'Yes, this body will do nicely. I said you would be mine, Alaric von Jungfreud, and it is so. Soon,' Alaric announced, hi
s voice harsh and grating, 'soon this world will as well.'

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  'By Ulric's, no!' Dietz howled, rising to his feet and hurling himself at Alaric. His friend extended one hand and caught Dietz in the chest, stopping him cold. It felt to Dietz as if he had slammed into a solid stone wall, yet Alaric did not even seem to be exerting himself. Glouste exploded out of the jacket, hissing with rage, but upon seeing Alaric she froze. She sniffed once, twice, trying to figure out why her friend was battling her mas­ter. Then she gave up and ducked back to safety, making confused sounds.

  'Your gods have no power over me, Dietrich Froebel.' It was Alaric speaking, yet the strangely resonant voice was not his and the words were not either, nor was the cold gleam in his glowing eyes. 'Soon he too will bow before me, as I devour his soul along with those of his flock.' Alaric's arm twitched, no more than when one bats away a fly, but Dietz was tossed several yards, and landed heavily halfway across the courtyard.

  'Get out of him!' he demanded, heaving himself upright again. 'Leave him alone!'

  Alaric - or the creature in Alaric - merely laughed, a chilling sound like bones grating together.

  If he intended to say more he was prevented, however, because Deathmaul attacked him.

  'First the gauntlet, and now you steal the mask from me!' the Chaos champion raged.

  He swung his blood-drenched axe, the muscles in his thick arms bunching and releasing with the powerful blow.

  Alaric caught the axe mid-swing, stopping it one-handed as if it were merely a child's toy. Then he plucked the heavy weapon from Deathmaul's numb fingers.

  'You cannot harm me,' Alaric said contemptuously, whirling the axe lightly between them. 'For all your prowess, your arrogance has become... tiring.'