Daemon Gates Trilogy 01 [Day of the Daemon]

by Warhammer

  'These tunnels have been here longer than we've been alive' Dietz pointed out. They were here when the city began. They haven't collapsed yet.'

  'But they could. They may have been getting weaker all this time!' Alaric was sounding dangerously close to panic.

  Dietz shrugged. 'Why worry about it?'

  'I can't help it,' the younger man admitted. 'It weighs upon me - I can feel it pressing down.'

  Dietz glanced back at him. 'You explore ruins for a living,' he pointed out.

  'Yes, but I have you to crawl through them for me.'

  Dietz started to respond to that and decided against it. 'What did Kristoff say before?'

  'When?'

  'Right before he threw the chair at us. He said something.'

  'Oh, that.' Alaric thought about it. 'He said, "K'ra'tick will be exalted! The Blood God will claim this land!'"

  'Right. What does it mean?'

  Alaric shrugged, though his friend wasn't looking back and missed the gesture. 'He's a Chaos cultist, obviously. Khorne is their god - chaos and war and bloodshed. The Blood God is one of his titles, as is the Lord of Skulls.' He frowned, forgetting the walls and the tons of rock for a moment. The other part - K'ra-tick - I don't recognize. From what he said I'd guess it was his cult, or the crearure they worship. The name must be in the foul language of the Dark Gods.'

  'The followers of Chaos have their own language?' Dietz asked.

  His friend nodded. Yes, they do. Its real name is undoubtedly much longer and unbelievably complicated. ..' His eyes unfocussed as he pondered the problem. 'K'ra-tick... Hm. "K'ra" would be "meat" - no, that's "h'n'eyir" - something like meat. The initial K means "aged" I think-' his voice trailed off, but Dietz was not listening anyway. He was glad Alaric had found something to distract from his fear, but it wasn't something that interested Dietz himself. He knew Alaric would tell him if he figured out the name's meaning. In the meantime Dietz concentrated on the tunnel ahead of them. Already he had encountered two branchings and had simply chosen the leftmost path each time. He suspected Alaric hadn't noticed at all. He wished he'd thought to bring along chalk to mark their route, but then he hadn't been expecting to go exploring this evening.

  They walked on for several more minutes, Dietz selecting the left path every time he had a choice, and Alaric mumbling occasionally about linguistic intricacies. The only sounds were the drip of water, the splash of their feet, the occasional scrape of Alaric's dagger or Dietz's elbow against the wall, and the hiss of the torch. They'd seen no sign of Kristoff, and the farther they went the less likely it became that they would find him. Dietz figured the trader knew these tunnels well enough to navigate them in the dark - he was probably miles away by now.

  'I've got it!' Alaric said at last, his raised voice echoing around them and vanishing down both of the branches Dietz saw before them. 'The K does mean "aged" but in the sense of "aged past its prime". In this case, it would mean rotted. "K'ra" means, "Rotted flesh!'"

  'It means "carrion," actually.'

  'Yes, well, carrion is rotted flesh, isn't it?' Alaric replied testily, and then glanced up. The voice had not belonged to Dietz.

  Suddenly, from tunnels off to the side that Dietz had missed in the dim light, several figures emerged. They rapidly surrounded the two travellers and Dietz noticed they had no torches, but held nasty looking short swords, axes, hammers and clubs. They looked like men, though he had a hard time seeing detail, and they all wore long robes of a red-brown cloth, the colour of dried blood. They all had hoods, but the one nearest Alaric pushed his back to reveal a young face fringed with black hair and dominated by blue eyes lit with the gleam of a fanatic.

  'K'ra-tick means "the Hounds of Carrion,'" the black-haired youth supplied, 'or "Carrion Beasts".'

  'I would have gotten that,' Alaric snapped, and only then seemed to notice that they were surrounded and outnumbered. Thanks.'

  'Certainly,' the cultist bowed mockingly. 'One should always know one's killers.'

  'Why kill us?' Dietz asked, shifting the torch in his grip. He'd never have time to draw a knife, but he could thrust the torch at someone's face. Perhaps their robes were flammable. As if reading his thoughts one of the cultists reached out and tugged the torch from his hand, grinning at his obvious disappointment.

  'Why not?' the first cultist replied, shrugging. Then he grinned. 'We've been ordered to, actually. Our high priest set us upon you.'

  'Kristoff?' Alaric asked, and the youth nodded. 'He wants us dead? Why? We're no threat to him, not lost down here.'

  "Your blood will feed the Lord of Skulls,' the cultist explained. 'He will reward us for this offering when the gates are opened.'

  'The gates? You mean the statues?' Alaric actually looked more relaxed now than he had upon entering the tunnels, though Dietz knew it was a pose. His friend was tense, but hid it well. His casual attitude and barrage of questions were confusing the cultists, who had no doubt expected pleas, cries, and a quick kill. He doubted Alaric had a plan beyond delaying the inevitable, but that was fine. The longer they avoided combat the longer they had to think of something... anything.

  The others are gone, you know,' Alaric was explaining to the youth, who seemed to be the cultists' leader. 'We destroyed them. Kristoff was there.'

  'Destroyed? No!' One of the other cultists wailed, but the youth seemed unfazed.

  'He did not mention that,' he admitted, 'but he was rushed.' He shrugged. 'It matters not. The four together formed a powerful ward that amplified every sacrifice, but each statue is a complete gate, and we have fed the one here, regularly.' He grinned. 'Soon, very soon, the gate will open and the Blood God's champion will emerge. Then we will be exalted above all, placed at our master's side to rule this ravaged world!' His eyes grew even wilder as he ranted, and flecks of spittle appeared at his mouth. The grin he gave Alaric was little more than the wide, hungry look of a rabid dog. 'Perhaps your deaths will be the final sacrifice,' he whispered gleefully. Your blood will tear open the veil and allow him entrance!'

  'I like my blood where it is, thank you,' Alaric replied, though he did back away slightly. The youth noticed, and his grin widened. The other cultists began closing in, weapons raised, and Dietz abandoned all thoughts of escape. His only hope was to knock out a cultist, take his weapon, and fight his way clear. Perhaps he could run for help, or at least lose himself in the tunnels, though he suspected these cultists knew the passages by heart.

  His planning was interrupted by a strange sound. It came down one of the forward passages, a grunting, groaning, slobbering noise. The sound of feet splashing through muck accompanied it, and both were growing louder. It did not sound like cultists and Dietz hoped it would at least provide a necessary distraction. Perhaps it was an animal that had slipped into the sewers and survived upon the rats and other vermin that infested the underground?

  Dietz's hopes sank as the sounds grew closer and their source came into view. It stood as tall as him and slightly wider, and at first he thought it was a man. Then he noticed its arms, which were rubbery like an octopus's and tapered to dull points instead of bearing hands. It wore only rags, and even in this light he could see strange sores covering its skin, which had a dull sheen. Its eyes were bright yellow, however, and almost perfectly round, with strange slit pupils.

  Mutant. It was a mutant, one of the poor human-born monsters rumoured to appear in Middenheim from time to time. More had been born over the past two decades, which some said had been the first warning of Chaos's renewed efforts. Many killed such deformed infants, but others, whether from shame or from some twisted mercy, dropped them through the sewer grates instead. Dietz had heard stories of mutants forming enclaves in the tunnels, establishing their own twisted society beneath the city that had spurned them, but he had thought them just tales to frighten children into staying clear of the sewer grates. Now he knew better, as he watched a second and then a third figure appear behind the first, and several more shuffling into sight behind them
.

  'Amazing!' Alaric, as usual, forgot their immediate danger and stared, fascinated, as the mutants approached. 'Sub-surface dwellers! And clearly mutated! Did you know about this?' The look he shot Dietz was almost laughable, the expression of a little boy just discovering he'd been denied a treat.

  'I'd heard of them,' Dietz admitted to him, trying not to panic as the mutants shambled closer. The cultists were now glancing around, clearly debating whether to run or fight, and who to target if they stayed. At least these creatures were a distraction, Dietz thought. Yet he couldn't help but feel their own situation had worsened with the monsters' arrival.

  'Can they talk?' Alaric asked eagerly, and even the cult leader stared at him.

  'I don't know,' Dietz said softly. 'I never met one before.'

  The mutants were within arm's reach of the cultists, forming an outer layer along the side, and several of the Chaos followers looked less than thrilled. Dietz almost laughed at that - here were living embodiments of Chaos! The cultists should be thrilled to encounter them. Perhaps they should be worshipping the mutants, who clearly had a closer tie to Chaos than any normal human and thus could act as an intermediary.

  While he was enjoying the cultists' discomfort, Alaric stepped forward, past the cult leader and towards the tentacled mutant. 'Hello' he said, keeping both hands at his sides. 'Can you understand me?'

  The creature nodded slowly, swaying as if it wanted to respond, and for the first time Dietz realised its mouth was tiny and beaked, not like a bird, but like the squid he had seen in markets once or twice. It might be able to understand Alaric's words, but it could not respond in kind.

  'These are your tunnels?' Alaric asked, but the mutant uttered a strange whistling sound. 'Do you live here?' Alaric tried again. Still the mutant replied only in whistles and clicks. 'You... live... here?' Alaric asked a second time, this time using hand gestures to indicate the mutant, include the area, and make a strange clasping motion that somehow suggested belonging. This time the mutant nodded.

  'Ah, good' Alaric said softly, more to himself than anyone else. 'A combination of Reikspiel and gestures, then. Simple, really - just keep it basic.' He turned back to the mutants.

  What was he thinking, Dietz wondered? He felt like cursing, but kept himself quiet and still, avoiding anything that might draw attention from either the cultists or the mutants. Still, he was amazed. He had known Alaric to be easily distracted, easily excited and easily enthralled - much like any child, but even he would not have believed his friend was capable of this. Here they were, surrounded by bloodthirsty cultists determined to use them as sacrifices, facing mutants who might intend exactly the same thing, and Alaric was completely focusing on how to talk to the creatures! Dietz felt his hands clench into fists despite himself, and wondered how the others would react if he started beating up Alaric himself. Just as he thought this, however, his friend glanced over at him - and smiled.

  He's up to something, Dietz realised. Alaric was smart, extremely smart, and he was definitely up to something -that smile had been his 'watch this next bit' expression rather than his 'isn't this fun?' look. Suddenly Dietz felt worlds better. Whatever he had planned, Alaric was only pretending to be a fool. Dietz had to trust him, and he'd have to be ready for whatever occurred next.

  'These... people,' Alaric was gesturing to the cultists now, talking slowly so the mutant would understand. 'Live... here.' His hands indicated the tunnels again.

  The mutant responded with clicks and what sounded almost like short barks. The other creatures behind him stirred as well. Dietz could see one that had an impossibly wide mouth and skin scaled like a fish, and another with eyes ringed around his forehead, and arms and legs with too many joints, and a third covered in thick fur whose arms were so long its clawed hands brushed the water. All of them were watching Alaric or the tentaded mutant, and judging by the strange groans and clacks and muted roars none of them were happy.

  Their... tunnels,' Alaric continued, gesturing to the cultists and then the tunnel, and using that strange clasping motion again. The mutants' barks grew louder and more agitated. 'Not... yours.' He pointed at the mutants, slashing his hand in negation, and the creature hooted, its tentacles lashing about.

  'Hey!' the cultist leader had been watching, as fascinated by this exchange as everyone else, and only now seemed to realise what Alaric had said. 'Stop that!'

  'Why?' Alaric glanced over at the youth. 'It's true, isn't it? This is your home? You control these tunnels?' Unnoticed by the cultist, he was still making hand gestures as he talked, and Dietz was amazed to realise his employer was carrying on two conversations at once.

  "Well, yes,' the youth was caught by his own bravado. Then common sense intruded. 'But don't get them riled.'

  'What will you do if they get upset?' Alaric asked him, his hands indicating the cultists and making punching motions. 'Kill them?' He mimed hacking someone to pieces. 'Burn them out?' He gestured towards the torch Dietz had brought down, still held by the cultist near him. 'Destroy them?' He made another negation gesture and then swept his hands to encompass all the mutants massed before them.

  The mutants, who had been following Alaric's nonverbal comments, went berserk.

  'Wha-?' Before the cult leader could react the first mutant had grabbed him with its tentacled arms. It shuddered and raised the youth high above its head, and he gasped in pain and surprise as his flesh tore against the rough ceiling. Then the mutant's limbs tightened, crushing the air from him, and spasmed, sending him crashing into the far wall. Dietz heard a clear snap as the youth hit rock, and he watched the body slide to the ground, and all but disappear beneath the standing water. The youth did not move again.

  Nor had the other mutants been idle. They had charged past their leader, ignoring Alaric and snatching up cultists left and right. Dietz, staying motionless, watched the apelike mutant tear the torch-bearing cultist to shreds, flesh and blood spattering them both. The eye-browed one lashed out with its arms and speared a cultist with barbs on the back of its hands. The fish-scaled one leaped forward and, stretching that impossibly mouth wide open, revealed row upon row of tiny triangular teeth, took a cultist's entire head between its jaws. Dietz turned away, but not soon enough to avoid hearing a chomping sound and a muffled shriek, and seeing, just for an instant, the mutant moving away from the headless body toppling to the ground.

  After the initial shock, the cultists reacted, shouting and cursing, and raising their weapons to fight off the creatures. The tunnel was suddenly filled with the sounds of battle: the dull thud of metal, stone and wood striking flesh and bone, the shouts and grunts and sobs of people trying to kill, and of people being killed, the stomach-churning squirt of blood spraying from an open wound, and the dull crack of bones breaking. The cultist next to Dietz had dropped the torch, which had fizzled as it struck and sank beneath the water. Without that light Dietz found he could make out only dim shapes churning about him, the cultists faint hazes of bloody brown and the mutants lighter and darker patches that moved in strange ways. He held himself as still as possible and prayed that Morr was too distracted by the carnage to notice him in its midst.

  That was when Alaric gestured to Dietz, just a little nod and then a head toss to the side, and began backing away. Dietz followed his lead, moving slowly, step by step, barely breathing as almost-seen figures clawed and bit, and leaped and struck all around him. He paused at one point, ears and skin registering something large just past him, and felt water splashing his feet as something man-sized struck the ground just beyond his toes. Whatever it was did not get up, and after a moment he took another step back, then another, easing away until it was just another faint impression in the darkness.

  'Stop.' Alaric's voice was close by and Dietz felt a hand against his back. He stopped and set his right foot, which had risen to retreat another step, back on the ground.

  'Can you see anything?' he whispered.

  'A little,' his friend replied. 'I was further
from the light than you were. Close your eyes a second and let them adjust.'

  Though he hated the idea of standing on the edge of a battle with his eyes shut, Dietz hated the idea of stumbling around blind even more. He did as Alaric instructed, and a moment later opened his eyes to discover that he could make out his surroundings, though everything was still dim.

  The cultists were still battling the mutants, though there were fewer brown robes than before. The creatures clearly had the upper hand. Alaric had angled to the left as he'd retreated, and Dietz found they were now standing in front of another tunnel, one of the two from which the cultists had ambushed them.

  'I don't think we should wait to see who wins,' Alaric pointed out, backing up again until he was in the new tunnel and could no longer see the fight. Dietz agreed wholeheartedly and followed him, waiting until they were a good twenty paces away before turning around and walking more quickly from the fading sounds of carnage.

  'Carrion Hounds,' he muttered as he followed Alaric, who seemed to have forgotten his fear of being underground. 'Well, the name certainly fits now.'

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  They walked for what felt like hours, their eyes adjusting enough to the darkness so that they could make out the tunnel walls. Some light did filter down from various grates here and there, the dim light of the moon and stars providing at least some illumination. In other places the tunnels' walls were coated with a strange ooze that glowed faintly. Some sort of fungus, Alaric decided, and would have taken a sample if Dietz had not stopped him, pointing out that the substance could be poisonous. Between the two light sources, they found they could manoeuvre without too much stumbling into things. More than once they detoured around large, still shapes that rose from the standing water, unsure whether they were rocks or refuse, or corpses, and unwilling to find out. Water dripped down on them, slicking their hair and fouling their clothes - at least, most of it was water.