Aaron Rosenberg - Night of the Daemon

This is a dark age, a bloody age, an age of daemons and ofsorcery. It is an age of battle and death, and of the worlds ending. Amidst allof the fire, flame and fury it is a time, too, of mighty heroes, of bold deeds and great courage.

At the heart of the Old World sprawls the Empire, the largestand most powerful of the human realms. Known for its engineers, sorcerers, traders and soldiers, it is a land of great mountains, mighty rivers, dark forests and vast cities. And from his throne in Altdorf reigns the Emperor Karl-Franz, sacred descendant of the founder of these lands, Sigmar, and wielder of his magical warhammer.

But these are far from civilised times. Across the length andbreadth of the Old World, from the knightly palaces of Bretonnia to ice-bound Kislev in the far north, come rumblings of war. In the towering Worlds EdgeMountains, the orc tribes are gathering for another assault. Bandits and renegades harry the wild southern lands of the Border Princes. There are rumours of rat-things, the skaven, emerging from the sewers and swamps across the land. And from the northern wildernesses there is the ever-present threat of Chaos, of daemons and beastmen corrupted by the foul powers of the Dark Gods. As the time of battle draws ever near, the Empire needs heroes like never before.

Clouds drifted across the night sky, obscuring stars andslivered Mannslieb. Their shadows fell across the town, rippling over its tall sturdy walls, momentarily dimming the torches set along the tops. Within, the sounds of revelry continued unabated.

Something moved in the shadows beyond the base of the wall. A tall figure stood in the darkness, staring up at the barrier. Dark cloth concealed features, even gender, although something about the figures postureand motion suggested a man. Beneath a long hood his eyes glittered in the dim light as they studied the wall. He stripped off thick gloves and raised one long-fingered hand, fingers splayed, to rest his palm against the rough stone. The hand stopped just shy of contact, a shudder passing though him.

The man raised his hand for a second time, and the air around him thickened. Wisps of fog or smoke swirled around his fingers as he pushed, his entire body leaning into the motion. Again his hand stopped inches from the stone.

After a moment the man tried again. This time the darkness seemed to rise around him, shrouding him until he was little more than a sensation of motion, a hint of substance. He did not move suddenly but advanced by inches, his raised hand closing the distance slowly but surely. Until, once again, it stopped. This time little more than a hairsbreadth separated flesh and stone. The air suddenly filled with a powerful stench, burning flesh and something far worse. For an instant the air was filled with hideous wailing torn from ravaged throats, but then the wind shifted and they were lost behind the music that issued from the town.

The man stood for a moment longer, unmoving, although hishand and arm shook with effort. Finally he pulled his hand back and stepped away, cradling it against his chest.

Very well, he muttered, his deep voice almost a growl.Your defences hold, for now. He glared at the tall, wide front gate, securelyfastened for the night, as if his eyes could pierce the wood and see the people beyond. Enjoy yourselves while you can, degenerates, he warned, although hiswords were swallowed by the night. Soon I will return, and when I do, he said,his hands clenched into fists, your barriers will fall before me.

Turning, he slipped away, his footfalls silent even in the still night air. Behind him a faint mark, a swatch darker than its surroundings, marred the wall where his hand had approached it. The grass nearby was blackened as well, as were patches further on, marking a trail as if scalding liquid had been poured out at regular intervals. By morning the marks would have faded, and no one would notice them.

Halt! Who goeswait, I know you! The guard lowered hiscrossbow and peered at them, the weapon resting atop the heavy wooden barricade before him. The sounds of other soldiers marching around, patrolling the pass that disappeared into the mountains above, emerged behind him.

Indeed you do, Alaric replied. I am pleased to see ourassistance has not been utterly forgotten so soon. He preened slightly,adjusting the short sleeves of his soft leather jacket and the silk shirt-ties at his throat, brushing back a stray hair that had drifted across his handsome face. Then he shifted the weight of the rapier at his side, making his horse shuffle. If either of them felt the summer heat they didnt show it, but Dietzwas sweating up a storm, his raw-boned face dripping moisture, his simple, serviceable leathers clinging to his long frame. Perhaps ignoring the heat was a noble thing. That might explain why the slender young man beside him was able to shrug it off so easily.

You were here when the orcs attacked, the soldier said,eyes widening as he remembered. You helped us fight them off.

That is correct, Alaric agreed, nodding graciously. Dietzthought his friend and employer looked like a king receiving accolades and managed to stifle the amused groan that rose in his throat. Glouste, less concerned with propriety, chittered what might have been a rebuke from her perch upon his shoulder, although whether aimed at Alaric or himself, Dietz could not tell. He scratched the wiry, long-tailed tree-fox behind her small rounded ears to calm her and his pets complaints changed to burbles of delight. InterruptingAlaric when he was so clearly enjoying himself might put the younger man in a foul mood.

Nonetheless, they were on a schedule, and couldnt waste muchmore time impressing some poor soldier.

Time, Dietz murmured, edging his horse close to Alarics soonly his young employer would hear him. He saw Alaric glance at him, frown slightly, and nod.

Yes, well, we are in a hurry, Alaric said, never turningfrom the guard. We need to use the pass.

Use it? That had the guard confused again, although Dietzwasnt sure he blamed the man. The Black Fire Pass was one of the only routesthrough the Black Mountains and intoor out ofthe Empire. It was alwaysheavily guarded, and this time they werent working for one of the electorcounts, or really for anyone. This time they were on their own, not that Alaric planned to let that stop them.

Yes yes, we need to reach the Border Princes, he saidtestily. He raised his chin, blue eyes flashing, blond hair streaming behind him, for that instant every inch the imperious noble. Now, either let us passor take us to Captain Verten or Commander Haas.

The guard straightened at the mention of his superiors. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see the two officers there. Then he chuckled at himself, nodded, and said something to someone below. A moment later two soldiers moved the barricade door aside.

The captain is down in Grenzstadt with Sergeant Druber,getting supplies, one of the men admitted, evidently having overheard theirconversation, but Commander Haas is probably in his tent or near enough to makeno difference in finding him. You know the way? Dietz knew the man was debatingwhether to leave his post to accompany them or let them wander the pass unescorted. The three guards were alone at the barricade, but they were enough to secure it against anything but a major assault. Two might be hard-pressed to defend it and that was probably the guards concern.