Daemon Gates Trilogy 01 [Day of the Daemon]

by Warhammer

  'They'll hide and regroup,' Haas admitted later, when they were all back in camp, 'but only in small bands. The warband died with its leader.' He studied Alaric. 'I take it you found your cargo?'

  Alaric nodded. 'We did, and destroyed it.'

  'And the explosion?'

  That was it.'

  Haas hoisted his wineskin in salute. Then we owe you our victory.' He took a long pull and handed the skin to Alaric. 'My thanks.'

  Alaric grinned. 'My pleasure.' He raised the skin in salute to Haas before drinking and passing it along. 'We'll be heading back tomorrow to report our success. Do you need us to carry any messages for you?'

  Haas nodded. 'I'll pen a quick report to my superiors -if you could carry it to Nuln I'd be grateful.' He looked around at them, and frowned when his eyes reached Adelrich and Hoist. 'I wonder if you would be willing to stay behind a short while. You,' he nodded to Adelrich, 'my scouts say could teach them much, and you,' he turned to Hoist, 'have the respect of Sergeant Druber, a thing not easy to obtain. We'll be chasing down those bands and I could use another good scout and a second seasoned guard unit.'

  Hoist looked to Alaric, but Adelrich replied immediately. 'I will stay. Middenheim does not need me just now and here I can aid the Empire.'

  Alaric shrugged in reply to Hoist's unvoiced question. 'It's your choice, sergeant,' he said. 'You and your men have been the difference between life and death for us more times than I can count, and I thank you for that, but I cannot command you to stay or go. Our job is done. Do what you think best.'

  Hoist considered that, and looked at Kleiber. 'Will you be returning to Middenheim?'

  The witch hunter nodded. 'I must report back on the success of our mission, and on the motives of our companions.' Surprisingly he smiled at Alaric and Dietz. 'Madmen you may be, and too cavalier with the gods, but you are no dae-monspawn and I will slaughter any who say otherwise.' 'Thanks, I think,' Dietz replied dryly.

  Hoist smiled and nodded. 'Then I know you will see them safely back as well,' he told Kleiber, indicating Dietz and Alaric. He turned back to Haas. 'My men and I will assist you, sir' he announced, saluting.

  'Good man' Haas told him, returning the salute and following it with the rapidly emptying wineskin. The conversation continued, but so did the drinking, and none of them was sure later exactly what was said.

  The next morning Alaric, Dietz, Kristoff, Fastred and Kleiber readied their gear and prepared their horses. Haas, Adelrich and Hoist saw them off, each handing Alaric sealed reports to deliver.

  'Watch your back' Dietz warned Adelrich, clasping the scout's hand.

  You too' his friend replied. 'When I get back we'll share a drink.'

  'Definitely'

  'Thank you, sergeant' Alaric told Hoist after mounting, looking down at the soldier.

  'My pleasure, sir' Hoist replied, saluting him. Alaric didn't bother returning the salute, but smiled as he turned his horse and kicked her into motion.

  'It seems strange to be done' Fastred commented as they rode out of the pass and towards Grenzstadt. 'After all these months, the statues are destroyed and our mission complete.' He grinned. 'I cannot imagine what I'll do with myself.'

  'I plan to drink, eat, and whore' Kristoff replied, laughing. 'You're welcome to join me.'

  'That may be a plan' the explorer agreed, chuckling, 'and what of you two? Will you join us in our debauchery?'

  Alaric shrugged. 'I don't know what we'll do next.' He frowned. 'Somehow this doesn't feel done. I can't say why, though.'

  'Pessimism?' Dietz suggested, earning him a mock-kick that brought a chittering rebuke from the slumbering Glouste.

  The four of them continued to banter as they rode into the village, Kleiber maintaining his usual dignified silence off to one side. It was going to be a long trip home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  'Travelling with you does have its uses,' Alaric admitted to Kleiber as they rode into Middenheim through the same gate they had left through all those weeks ago. The witch hunter tapped his hat in mocking salute. The city guards had not dared search them this time and had waved the five men through with hasty salutes in Kleiber's general direction.

  Their return to Middenheim had been far easier than their departure; at least they had not been searching for statues or fighting the creatures defending them. The four of them had taken the Old Dwarf Road down from the Black Fire Pass and across Averheim. That road had led them to the Old Forest Road, and they had followed that clear through the Great Forest, and up to Middenheim itself. They had been attacked by bandits twice, accosted by local soldiers once and harassed by desperate villagers three times. The travellers had fought their way through the first problem and talked their way past both the second and the third, finally arriving back at the City of the White Wolves only a little the worse for wear. Even so, it was nice to know that soon they could dismount, stable their horses, sit down on chairs and perhaps even sleep on real beds, and eat food they did not have to hunt, kill and cook themselves.

  'I must report to the witch hunter captain at once,' Kleiber informed his companions after they were past the city's defensive courtyard and had paused in one of the small squares nearby. He nodded to them each in turn. 'Gentlemen, I commend you for your assistance in ending this threat to our fair Empire. Rest assured my superiors will hear of your devotion.' And with that he was off.

  'Assistance?' Dietz snorted, though he waited until the witch hunter was far enough away. 'As if he was responsible!'

  'I don't care who gets the credit,' Alaric told him honestly, 'as long as they clear us of all charges.' He turned to face Kristoff and Fastred. 'What will you two do now we're back?'

  'I am off to the guild offices,' Fastred replied, idly stroking his beard. 'I'll report on our particulars, of course, and sample the excellent brandy they keep there. You're all welcome to join me.' The others laughed - the explorer had depleted his meagre supply of wine two weeks back and had been lamenting the loss ever since.

  'I must away to my own masters,' Kristoff said, 'though perhaps later I may avail myself of your kind offer.' He bowed to them all while still mounted, an impressive feat. 'Gentlemen, it has been an honour and a pleasure.' Then he tapped heels to his mount and was off with Fastred not far behind him.

  'So, here we are,' Alaric said with a sigh, glancing over at Dietz. 'Just the two - well, three - of us again. Seems strange now, doesn't it? Too quiet by half.'

  'Strange, yes,' Dietz agreed, also missing their friends already, 'but I like the quiet.' He frowned. 'Should we report to someone as well?'

  'I suppose so.' Alaric thought for a moment. 'What was that man's name, the one who worked for Todbringer? Stroder? Striner?'

  'Struber.'

  That's the one. We should inform him of our success.'

  Deitz fidgeted on his horse. 'Do you need me along? I'd hoped - I wanted-'

  Alaric understood immediately. 'Go. See your family. I'll take care of it.' He searched his memory again. The Dancing Frog, isn't that where we stayed before?' His friend nodded. 'Let's return there, then - if nothing else it was serviceable and Kristoff and Fastred both know to look for us there. Meet me there after your visit.'

  Thanks.' Dietz turned his horse down a side street, and Alaric found himself alone for the first time in a very long while. Suddenly, he realised just how much he'd come to depend upon Dietz in the year since they'd begun travelling together.

  'Well, not like I'm scaling a mountain,' he told himself softly as he kicked his own horse into a fast walk. 'Just a word with this Struber fellow and then off to the Dancing Frog.' His mind strayed back to their last visit, and he smiled. 'Oh yes, with one quick stop between.'

  'Hello?'

  The door was unlatched and Alaric pushed it open and slid past it into the half-darkness. He sneezed as he entered, yet the shop was less dusty than he remembered and lacked that ever-present sound of hammer and chisel on stone.

  'Who's there?' A high-pitched voice rose
from the back and Alaric followed the well-remembered path to the work table near the back wall. A woman stood there, tall and slender to the point of being gaunt, head covered in a black shawl. She was glancing through a thick ledger. Alaric recognised her from previous visits.

  'Alaric von Jungfreud, fraulein,' he announced himself, bowing carefully to avoid his rapier bumping any of the carvings to his side. 'You must be Rolfs wife?'

  'His widow, yes,' she replied, eyes narrowing, and Alaric straightened rapidly, trying to control his shock.

  'Widow? What happened?'

  'Executed for heresy and treason, he was,' the woman said flatly, though she could not look up as she spoke. Alaric graciously attributed her tears to the dust that still hung thick in the air.

  'But he was innocent!'

  'Well I know it,' she replied, sniffing, 'but the witch hunters chose to believe otherwise. They call a man heretic at the merest slight and attribute anything odd or defiant to witchcraft and Chaos worship.'

  'Who is it, mother?' a voice called out from beyond the curtained door, and a moment later a young man stepped in from the stone yard beyond. He was as tall as Rolf had been and bore his father's eyes, but his frame and features were narrow like his mother's.

  'An old friend and associate of your father's,' Alaric replied, bowing again. 'Alaric von Jungfreud is the name. I did business with your father on occasion, and knew him to be a fine and decent man.' He did not add that he had been present at Rolf s arrest, or that he and Dietz had been partially to blame for the incident. It seemed best not to mention such details right now.

  Nonetheless the youth frowned. 'Alaric? I know that name. Ah, yes. I remember.' And he ducked back behind Rolf's worktable. After rummaging for a moment he produced a small wooden casket, handsomely carved of a dark polished wood. He handed it to Alaric.

  'My father wanted you to have this,' the young man said. 'He mentioned it on my last visit to him before-' he trailed off.

  'Thank you,' Alaric said quietly, accepting the casket. He lifted the lid and saw a familiar silk-wrapped object within: the mask. It was the reason he had returned, hoping to find Rolf out the back carving as usual. The stone carver's consideration, thinking of him in the shadow of his own certain death, brought tears to Alaric's eyes and it was a moment before he could speak.

  Rolf's son and widow both noticed and relaxed slightly. 'Do not show that to anyone,' the youth

  cautioned, gesturing towards the casket. 'The witch hunters have eyes everywhere.'

  Finally recovered, Alaric shook his head. 'The witch hunters? Why would they care about this?'

  'They care about everything,' Rolf's widow replied. 'They are the real power in Middenheim now and their eyes are everywhere.' She shook her head and her hands tightened around the book held to her chest. 'Once they were cautious in their accusations, never attacking a man until they had proof of his wrongdoing. Not so now. Ever since the siege they've grown bolder, more aggressive, and more eager to feed the flames with human flesh.' She sniffed again to hold back tears. 'That's why they took my Rolf. He'd been tricked into carving those monstrosities, but the witch hunters refused to believe that. Said he'd been a willing participant. They'd no proof of that, none, but the elector count does as they say, and the White Wolves hide in their citadel and let those fanatics slaughter innocents by the dozen.' She shuddered. 'We withstood all the forces of Chaos before, but now our streets run red with blood and it's all let by men of the Empire.'

  'It's not safe to talk of such things,' the youth cautioned with a quick glance to Alaric, who raised his hands.

  'I'll not repeat it,' he assured them, earning a grateful glance from both. Inside he was trying to reconcile what they'd said with what he knew of the witch hunters, particularly Kleiber. The man was a fanatic, certainly, and eager to slaughter enemies of the Empire, but he had never struck Alaric as unjust. Was he merely the exception? Or was it only because they had come to know Kleiber as a person, and he them?

  'Will you keep the shop?' he asked them, more as a way to bring the conversation to safer ground, but Rolfs son shook his head.

  'I work in wood, not stone,' he said, not without a touch of pride. 'My shop is two streets over.' He glanced around them at the carvings everywhere. 'We'll sell what we can of the work, and then sell the shop itself. I know a man who offered to buy my father's tools as well.' He smiled a small, sad smile. 'If there's ought here you'd like for yourself, please take it. My father spoke highly of you, and tell Dietz I said hello - he and I knew each other as boys.'

  'I will, thank you,' Alaric replied, 'and thank you for the offer, but I've no place to stand such fine pieces as these.' He paused for a moment. 'May I have a last look around, though?'

  'Of course.'

  He left them to their cleaning and sorting, and wandered the twisting paths through the shop, running his fingers along various statues and pedestals as he walked. It seemed impossible this could be the last time he would squeeze through these crowded aisles or sidle by looming stone figures. Even though Dietz had introduced him to Rolf only a year ago, they had been in this shop many times since. Alaric felt he knew its layout as well as any place in Middenheim, perhaps better than any place at all save only the family manse and the University of Alt-dorfs scholarly halls.

  As he wandered, thinking back over his previous visits, Alaric found himself drifting towards the shop's far corner. Finally he stopped, unable to proceed any farther. He was facing the corner itself and on either side were statues of winged horses, armoured warriors and majestic wolves, all carved from the pale grey granite so common here. Directly before him was a gap through which he could see the heavy stone of the walls themselves and he nodded sadly. Even now he remembered quite clearly what had stood here before.

  'I am glad to see that piece gone, at least,' he remarked after making his way back to the worktable. Rolf s widow and son were still there, the one still examining the ledger and the other wrapping a small figurine that had been sitting on a shelf just above.

  'Which piece is that?' the youth asked, not even looking up from his task.

  'The statue, of course,' Alaric said, and then continued when both of them glanced over at him as if expecting more. 'The corrupted statue, the one that started all this; I gather the witch hunters came for it?'

  'Witch hunters! Feh!' Rolfs widow spat to one side, her face twisted in a grimace. 'They've not set foot in here since hauling my husband off to his death, and I'd not allow them entry if they tried!' Her son nodded, his own face hard and looking more like his father's as a result.

  Alaric frowned as her words struck him. 'The witch hunters didn't take him,' he corrected softly. 'The city guard did that and then gave him to the witch hunters for trial. You're saying they've never been in here, the witch hunters?' The widow and her son both shook their heads, her vehemently. 'The city guard, then? They confiscated the statue?'

  'They haven't dared show their face here,' Rolfs son contested. 'They knew my father would have no traffic with such things yet they left him to the witch hunters' lies.'

  Now Alaric was puzzled and a bit alarmed. 'Where is the statue, then? If the guard didn't take it and the witch hunters didn't destroy it, what happened to it?'

  Struber had said nothing about the statue, but then the count's aide had said very little at all. Alaric had found him without difficulty and had reported the success of their mission - it had taken Struber a moment and several reminders before he had remembered the matter at all.

  'Ah yes,' was all he'd said after Alaric had described the particulars a third time, 'those dreadful statues. Didn't you have another man with you?'

  'Several,' Alaric had replied with a sigh, 'including a witch hunter, an explorer, a trader, and a unit of the count's own guard.'

  'Ah, that would be Sergeant Hoist?' Struber had asked, showing real interest for the first time. 'Fine man, fine. Has he returned with you?'

  'No, he is still in the Black Fire Pass, assisting the
commander there in destroying the last of an ore warband.' Alaric had gestured towards the folded parchment Struber held absently. 'His report is there, in your hand.'

  'Is it?' Struber had blinked at the paper as if surprised to see it there. "Yes, yes, very good. And the mission went well? The statues were all recovered?'

  'Destroyed.' Alaric had found it harder and harder to maintain a civil tone. 'They were destroyed, yes. It was a complete success.'

  'Excellent, excellent.' Struber had looked past Alaric, his voice trailing off, hands still holding Hoist's report, and for a moment Alaric had feared the aide had fallen asleep with his eyes open. After a full minute of silence he had coughed lightly and Struber had started and focused upon him again.

  'Yes, was there anything else?'

  'No, nothing else.' Alaric had left then, relieved that apparently it was over, but somehow feeling annoyed there had not been more resolution. Perhaps if Struber had at least remembered where they'd gone and why it might have helped. Thinking back on it now the aide clearly had no idea what he'd been talking about. He hadn't mentioned the first statue or its later destruction, but that was hardly surprising - even if it had been destroyed Struber either wouldn't have known or would have known at one time, but forgotten about it shortly after.

  Rolf's widow was frowning now as well. 'I'd thought they'd taken it when they took my husband,' she admitted.

  Alaric shook his head. 'No, they arrested him and said they would confiscate and destroy the statue.' He shrugged. 'Perhaps they did come back for it that night. I was otherwise occupied.'

  'No one came that night,' Rolfs son contributed. 'I closed up the shop after I heard about the arrest.' He stopped to think. 'There was a man the next day, however, said he was here to claim a piece my father had done for him.' He shrugged. 'The man had his receipt in my father's hand so I saw no reason not to complete the sale.' He smiled. 'My father would have approved of that - he hated loose ends.'