Aaron Rosenberg - Daemon Gates 1: Day 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.

Dietrich Dietz Froebel flattened himself against the wall,the rough stone digging into his back through his sweat-soaked shirt and vest. If I make it out of here, he muttered to himself, I swear Ill never look atcats the same way again.

Just past him, an arched doorway broke the wall, and by craning his neck Dietz could see several tall, husky figures prowling down the hall beyond. He had seen beastmen before, of coursemostly when their bodieshad been dragged back to Middenheim by bounty hunters and bored guardsmen. Hedeven fought a few since enlisting in that madman Alarics service. When hethought of beastmen he pictured those creatures: animals that walked upright, bestial men with strangely distorted features and scraps of leather and cloth for makeshift clothes. Some had crude armour theyd clearly ripped from theirvictims and pieced back together. Weapons were the same way, crude or stolen and poorly tended.

Not these, however. The creatures stalking past were built like men, except for their long lashing tails, but moved with the grace of cats, as well they should. Their bodies were covered in striped orange and black fur, their heads those of tigers, but with more intelligent eyes, their hands tipped with claws, but able to grasp weapons easily. These beastmen were nothing like hed imagined. Their armour was clearly handmade, little more than tooledleather straps holding flat discs of metal and stone in strategic locations, but handsome and effective. Their weapons were hatchets and short swords, and spears with blades of glittering black stone and hafts of gleaming wood, far finer than Dietz had imagined beastmen capable of creating.

Everything about Ind had come as a surprise. Of course, that made sense. They were several thousand miles from the Empire, after all. If it were all like home, what would be the point in travelling? Some of the surprises, like the lush landscape, were actually pleasant; shame this wasntone of them.

He ducked back and pressed himself even harder against the wall when one of the beastmen paused and snarled something. Hoping they hadntheard himor smelled himDietz held his breath. He heard a soft paddingsound and knew at least one was approaching. His right hand crept to the long knife at his belt, though he knew he could only take one down before the others jumped him. Just as he was sliding the blade from its sheath he heard a loud, musical clang that echoed through the chamber, shaking the floor and setting his teeth vibrating. At last!

The padding stopped, then resumed again, but moving away, and Dietz slowly let out his breath. A moment later the hall was silent and he risked another glance. They had gone.

He and Alaric had watched the temple for several days before attempting to enter and had quickly seen the pattern. Every day, as the sun hit its height, a gong sounded from the temples peak. All the beastmen stopped whatthey were doing and funnelled indoors. Whether it was the mid-day meal or group worship did not matter. The important thing was that all of the beastmen were occupied, which would leave the halls clear. Dietz had wanted to wait until the gong to enter, but Alaric had pointed out the temples sheer size. Youll neverget to the centre in time if you wait that long, hed explained. Youll haveto start sooner so the gong can clear the final passages for you.

And hed been right, damn him. Dietz was only halfway throughthe maze of corridors, though the rest of his progress would be quicker without having to duck along side passages. He hated it when Alaric was right. Not that his employer would even notice. And where was he, while Dietz was doing all the hard work? Probably still staring at that tablet by the entrance, he thought.

Fascinating! Alaric von Jungfreud brushed some dirt fromthe flat panel embedded in the temple wall before him and traced the rune hedrevealed. Then he copied it down in his notebook. Not an honorific at all.Thats definitely a warning of some sort, or an admonitionperhaps aconditional? Coupled with this other mark here

His blond head bent over his notebook, Alaric barely registered the gongs vibrations. Nor did it occur to him to wonder where Dietzwas, or whether the other man was in any danger. Or to worry about crouching by the temples entrance, in easy view of anyone approaching or stepping out ontoone of the balconies above. All Alaric thought of was the tablet and the words inscribed upon it. Dietz would be fine. He always was.

Sigmars Beard!

Though he kept his voice low, the words still echoed through the small chamber. Dietz had made his way down the corridors, trading stealth for speed now that the gong had cleared the halls of occupants. He had finally reached a door, the only one he had seenevery other portal had been an openarchway. This archway held a slab of stone polished to silky smoothness, its glossy black surface providing a perfect reflection of Dietz and the hall behind him. The door had no lock he could find, but from its centre protruded a tigershead of red marble, a massive ring clutched in its jaws. A sharp tug on the ring and the door had slid open silently. He had stepped quickly inside and the sight beyond was the cause of his sudden outburst.

This was the heart of the temple. It had to be. It was a small chamber, barely twenty feet across, with strange angled corners and walls that curved up to form a vaulted ceiling. A second smaller door stood to one side. The centre of the ceiling was a circle of clear crystal, and the sun shone down, its light flooding the room and spilling across the intricately tiled floor. Dietz saw tigers and lions, and other great cats battling beneath his feet, rending men and horses and each other.

That was not what had stopped him. Nor was it the carved columns at each corner of the room or the inset nooks holding sculptures and vases, or even the tapestries that hung between them. No, the statue facing the door had provoked his outburst. It covered the entire wall and dominated the chamber.