Daemon Gates Trilogy 01 [Day of the Daemon]

by Warhammer

  'You're in a good mood,' Alaric commented that evening. They were back at the Dancing Frog and Dietz had just entered their room, whistling. Glouste was wrapped around his neck as usual and purring like mad, sharing her master's mood.

  'Indeed yes,' his friend replied, dropping into the other chair by the small table near the window. He grinned and stroked his pet, which nipped at his fingers affectionately.

  'Care to explain why?' Alaric had been jotting down some notes in his journal, but set that aside now, curious. It was rare to see Dietz so visibly pleased with himself.

  'Just taking care of my family,' was the reply, but Alaric stared until Dietz sighed and elaborated. Not that he seemed reticent - on the contrary, for once the tall man seemed eager to talk. 'Todbringer asked what we wanted,' he reminded Alaric, who simply nodded for him to continue. 'I asked for Kristoff s house.'

  'A fine place, as I recall,' Alaric agreed, 'but what do you need with a house? Ah,' he said, seeing the look on his friend's face. 'It is not for you.'

  'No.' Dietz looked smug. 'I gave it to Dracht.'

  'Your brother?' Alaric frowned. 'I thought you two were not on the best of terms.'

  Dietz shrugged. 'No, though this may help.' He leaned forward. 'But that was not why.'

  Alaric contained his impatience. Clearly Dietz wanted to tell this story at his own pace. 'All right, why then?'

  'It is much nicer than his old house/ Dietz explained, 'and much larger.' He grinned again. 'Large enough for Father to have his own room.'

  'O-ho! Now I see.' Alaric admired his friend's devious-ness - Dietz was normally a very straightforward man, but he could be extremely clever when he wanted to be. 'Dracht had claimed he couldn't care for your father because he lacked space for him. Now you've removed that argument.'

  'He could hardly refuse/ Dietz agreed gleefully. 'The house is a definite improvement for him and much closer to the shop, and as the eldest son it is his duty.'

  'Which leaves Dagmar free to pursue her own life/ Alaric agreed. He noticed that Dietz looked, if possible, even more smug now. 'What?'

  'I've not been idle there either/ Dietz admitted. He laughed. 'I went to see Dagmar today, and I brought LIralir with me.' At Alaric's blank look he explained. 'Rolf s son?'

  'Ah.' Alaric remembered the tall, fine-featured man in the stonemason's shop. 'I never got his name.'

  'He and I were friends as youths/ Dietz said, his eyes trained upon the past. He smiled. 'Hralir is a good man and a fine carpenter, and he has always thought highly of Dagmar, and she of him.' He looked very pleased with himself. 'Now that she's free to choose her own life, and has the money Todbringer gave me as well, I suspect Hralir is even more interested.'

  'Busy indeed/ Alaric agreed. 'Good for you.' Something bounced from the back of his mind, stirred by what Dietz had just said. 'Wait a second - Hralir!' He stood, crossed quickly to his chest of drawers and began rifling through it.

  'What?'

  'Rolfs son gave me something back at the shop/ Alaric explained, still digging through shirts and socks and razors and scarves. 'A small casket - ah!' He pulled the casket from the bottom drawer and carried it over to the table. 'Rolf wanted me to have it/ he explained as he sank back into his chair.

  'What's in it?'

  The mask,' Alaric said, opening the casket and removing the mask to show Dietz. His friend did not seem entirely pleased to see the carved stone face again. 'Oh, calm yourself! It is only a carving, and a valuable one at that.' He looked into the casket again, 'but there's something more in here.' Setting the mask down carefully, he reached in and pulled out a worn-looking scroll. 'What's this?'

  Dietz stood and moved aside as Alaric carried the scroll to his bed and carefully unrolled it. 'It's very old,' he told Dietz over his shoulder as he fingered the silk-smooth parchment. 'Look here, these markings. That style hasn't been used in centuries.' He frowned and rubbed his jaw, remembering something else. 'Rolf had said, when I showed him the mask, that he had some other items he thought would interest me. These must be them - he never got the chance to show me himself and so he left Hralir with instructions to give them to me.'

  Dietz shook his head. 'Nice of the witch hunters to admit their mistake,' he said gruffly, 'but Rolf still died for nothing.'

  'I know.' Trying not to think about it, Alaric returned to studying the scroll. 'Look at this!' He pointed to a strange figure, almost a glyph, and Dietz leaned closer to examine it over his shoulder. 'That mark was on the statues!'

  'Are you sure?'

  Alaric nodded. 'Positive. I even sketched it in my notes.' He fetched his journal from the table and flipped through it until he found the correct page. 'Here.' Held side by side the marks in the journal and on scroll were clearly identical.

  'We should tell someone,' Dietz suggested, but Alaric shook his head.

  'Not until we know more about it,' he argued. 'For all we know that could simply mean "power" or "wealth" or something else innocent and universal.'

  His friend did not look convinced, so to distract him Alaric turned to the scroll again and began pointing out other details. 'What is this here?' His fingers traced a set of tiny triangular marks.

  Dietz studied the pattern, frowning. 'Hills,' he said finally.

  Alaric stared at them again. 'You're right,' he admitted after a moment, 'and this must be a river.' He tapped a long wavy line. 'This is a map!'

  'It is,' Dietz agreed, stepping back to squint at it. 'But of where?'

  Alaric looked in the casket again and pulled out a second piece of parchment. This one was much smaller and not nearly as old, the edges not yet worn smooth. 'Perhaps this will say,' he said hopefully, unrolling it and scanning it quickly. 'It's badly damaged,' he said after a moment. 'Little more than scraps left. It almost looks like someone meant to destroy it, but I can still make out a bit.' He squinted and traced the edge of a word near the top. 'Yes! Listen: "...seems to be a map to an ancient tomb. I can't quite make the name out... in the Borderlands... famed for... treasures beyond imagining.'" He glanced up at Dietz. 'It's a map to a tomb in the Border Princes!'

  "We don't know where,' Dietz pointed out. This scroll only shows a small area. It could be anywhere.'

  'It could be,' Alaric admitted sadly. He looked at the map again. 'But wait, these scratchy marks appear to indicate geographic features - rivers and mountains, probably. If we compare this to a map of the region, and try to match them up, we should be able to find where it is!'

  Dietz scratched his chin. 'Might work,' he said after a minute.

  'We must find this tomb,' Alaric announced, hopping to his feet and pulling his worn saddlebags from under the bed. He started to toss them onto the bed, stopped, rolled the scroll back up and set it aside, and then tossed them down. Those markings from the statue - you're right, it could be connected. We must make sure this tomb does not contain a portal of its own, or some other daemonic lure.'

  Dietz groaned. 'Couldn't we send someone else?'

  'Don't be foolish,' Alaric admonished, tugging clothes from his drawers and tossing them onto the saddlebags. "Who else knows as much about this as we do?'

  'Besides,' he said, feeling the smile stretching across his face as his mind began to race. 'Think of it! We could be the first to explore this tomb! The first to examine its mysteries! Just think of what we could find!'

  Dietz groaned again and collapsed back into his chair. 'At least you've got a sword again,' he said finally, gesturing towards the rapier at Alaric's side.

  'Hm? Oh, yes.' Alaric patted the new blade fondly. Todbringer had made good on his promise, presenting Alaric with a beautifully crafted rapier. It was even finer than his old blade, both sharper and stronger. 'I suppose it might prove useful.'

  'You did say "tomb", didn't you?' Dietz asked after a moment.

  Yes, a tomb.' Alaric was trying to figure out how he had packed so many clothes into the saddlebags the last time. 'Why?'

  Tombs are underground,' his friend pointed o
ut. 'Dark, tight spaces; your favourite.'

  'Oh.' Alaric thought about that for a moment, and then shrugged. 'I'll manage. Besides,' he grinned at his companion, 'if it gets too scary I'll just send you.'

  Dietz growled, causing Glouste to glance up. 'Never mind, Glouste,' he told his pet. 'You get used to him after a while... sort of.'

  'Why wouldn't you?' Alaric asked, putting on an innocent expression. 'I am all charm and delight. Now get packing!'