Tales of the Old World (130 page)

Kleinhoffer followed his gaze and cried out in alarm.

The soul-sharks came closer, their great jaws gaping. They were fast, faster
than their own steed, not hindered as it was by two human riders.

Von Diehl raised the wand of bone and prodded the daemon with it. “Save us,”
he commanded the thing. “Save us or you will never be free!”

A wordless cry of mingled rage and despair echoed inside von Diehl’s skull.
The daemon-steed suddenly veered and plunged through one of the gates.

Reality rippled like the surface of a pond. They hurtled over a desolate
plain on which great pyramidal cities sat. As von Diehl watched, great beams of
force flickered between the pyramids. Some were absorbed by huge, thrumming
black screens of energy, but one city was reduced to slag in an instant. Their
mount swept into an evasive pattern to dodge the webs of force-beams. Several
came too close for comfort but none hit them. Von Diehl watched one of their
pursuers get caught in the cross-fire and wink out of existence. The others came
on.

Their supernatural steed raced through another gate above the greatest of
pyramids. There was a sense of space stretching. Now they were above a hell of
sulphur pits and dancing flames. Toad-like daemons pitch-forked the souls of
some strange amphibian race into the volcanic fires. Von Diehl wondered whether
this was real or the dream of one of the Old Powers. Perhaps it was a real hell
of a real race brought into being by the imaginations of an alien people
stirring the Realm of Chaos.

Their steed dived into one volcanic pit. Beside him, Kleinhoffer screamed
uncontrollably, surely convinced that the creature had betrayed them and that
they were going to die. He covered his eyes with his hands.

Von Diehl felt only exhilaration.

Once more though they hurtled through a gate. Fewer of the pursuing daemons
followed.

They were in the blackness of space, hurtling through a void darker than
night over a small world that had been re-shaped into a city. They raced by
bubble domes from which creatures much like elves stared out. The workmanship of
the buildings within the domes was as refined and delicate as spider-webs. They
dipped and swooped into a great corridor holding another gate. Once more they
vanished.

Von Diehl had no idea how long the chase lasted. They passed through vaults
where rebellious daemons plotted against the Powers; frozen hells where immobile
souls begged for freedom; leafy Arcadias where golden people made love and
dreadful things watched from the bushes.

They swooped across worlds where great war-machines, shaped like men eighty
feet high, fought with weapons that could level cities. They blazed along
corridors in doomed hulks that had drifted for a thousand years in the spaces
between worlds and where sleeping monsters waited in icy coffins for new prey.
They zoomed across the surface of suns where creatures of plasma drifted in
strange mating dances.

But eventually their twists and turns through the labyrinth of space-time
threw off the last of their pursuers, and they returned once more to the Sea of
Souls.

Their steed raced along the threads of the vast disturbance in the sea that
was Tzeentch, picking their way along great arteries of energy until they came
to the very heart of it all. They swept past great winged creatures which gave
von Diehl knowing smiles. He felt as if the daemons were looking into his very
soul and probing his innermost secrets. He did not care. He was exalted. He knew
they were nearing the end of the quest and that soon they would both have what
they had come for. Kleinhoffer was exhausted, his face bloodless. But the
exhilaration of the chase and sharing their daemon-steed’s energy had only
buoyed von Diehl up.

They approached a mighty sphere of pulsing light. Colours danced and shifted
on its surface like oil glistening on the surface of water.

They drifted closer and slid into, then through the wall. Within was a huge
being, larger than a castle. In form it was similar to a man although its head
was horned. It possessed great beauty but the shifting lights of the sphere
reflected dazzlingly off its no-coloured skin and the brilliance caused von
Diehl to look away.

Welcome, mortals, to the House of the Lord of Change!

The voice spoke within the travellers’ heads. It was calm, polite and
reasonable, but there was an under-current of malicious amusement.

Von Diehl peered back at the great figure, looking up into glittering
gem-like eyes. He thought that those eyes could take in the entire universe at a
glance. Before it he felt as insignificant as a flea.

“Thank you, lord,” he said gravely. He nudged Gerhardt Kleinhoffer with his
free hand. The old man mumbled a greeting of his own.

Why have you come here?
boomed the voice.
Why have you disturbed my
servants who have other more important tasks to perform?

“We have come,” von Diehl said, “seeking knowledge, lord.” He gestured at his
companion.

“Yes,” Kleinhoffer stammered after a moment, a dazed expression on his face.
“That’s it. That’s why we’re here. Knowledge.”

Knowledge. For what purpose do you seek it? To change yourself or your world?

Von Diehl turned and waited for his companion to speak. The old man’s gaze
went back and forth between his student and the gigantic being. His mouth opened
and closed several times but no words emerged. Still von Diehl said nothing.

“Neither,” Kleinhoffer blurted at last.

Lothar von Diehl smiled and turned back to face the Power. “Both,” he said.

Gerhardt Kleinhoffer blinked, and then finally appeared to realise what von
Diehl had said. He jerked around to face von Diehl. His face was ashen. “Lothar,
what are you saying? Have you forgotten the ritual?”

So then, mortal,
the gigantic being boomed, addressing only Gerhardt
Kleinhoffer now.
Why then do you crave knowledge?

“I—I—” Kleinhoffer’s eyes bulged. He put his hands to his head, clearly
wilting under the gaze of this enormous entity. “Lothar, for pity’s sake, help
me!”

Von Diehl raised both hands. “Lord, he seeks knowledge—for its own sake.”

That is unfortunate.
The creature smiled malevolently.
Still, what
does he wish to know?

Again Gerhardt Kleinhoffer’s mouth opened and shut and again no words
emerged. Smiling, von Diehl said, “Everything.”

Suitably ambitious. So shall it be.

Lord Tzeentch reached out and touched Kleinhoffer. The old man went rigid.

At the same moment, von Diehl again murmured the words of the spell which had
linked him to the steed as it had fed. Leaning forward, he pressed the tip of
the bone wand to Kleinhoffer’s temple. Knowledge was flowing into his companion,
filling him. And Lothar von Diehl intended to witness it—from a safe distance.

A vast ocean of information cascaded into Kleinhoffer’s brain. Von Diehl
glimpsed the birth of the universe and the Sea of Souls, the creation of stars
and planets, the rise of races, the structure of molecules. He saw the universe
burst into a great flood of change and understood the nature of the power that
drove it relentlessly onwards. He saw that the universe was never still but
constantly altering itself. He knew instantly that he could never know
everything because there were always new things coming into being.

Kleinhoffer’s face contorted as the flow of knowledge continued inexorably.
His mind was drowning in a flood of information, far too much knowledge to cope
with. It had stretched his mind to the breaking point and beyond. As if from a
great distance, von Diehl sensed the man’s personality erode then finally
collapse as he descended into screaming madness. And still the torrent of
knowledge did not stop.

Slowly, still clutching feebly at von Diehl’s tunic, the old man sank down to
von Diehl’s feet.

Enough, thought von Diehl, sensing his own mind begin to strain. Chanting the
words of his spell, he drew back the wand, breaking the contact with the old
man.

Lothar von Diehl.

He looked out at the vast unknowable being that was, or represented,
Tzeentch.

Your companion’s wish has been granted.

“Yes, lord,” von Diehl replied, glancing down at the huddled figure at his
feet. He smiled. “And I offer you thanks—on his behalf.”

A rumbling sound issued from the creature before him that perhaps was
laughter on a cosmic scale.

And you, Lothar von Diehl. You have also been granted the gift of knowledge—knowledge that you may take back with you into the mundane world you came from.

“Accept my gratitude for that gift also, lord.”

Of course, for that gift, too, there is a price.

“I understand, lord, and one I am quite prepared to pay.”

You will be bound to my service for eternity.

Von Diehl bowed his head. Tzeentch the Great Mutator. Tzeentch the Changer of
the Ways. “Willingly,” he said.

Tzeentch, his chosen Power of Chaos.

You will serve me in your world. You know what it is that I wish, that I
thrive upon.

“I know.”

Once more there was a flickering in the air and the smell of ozone. The steed
reappeared in the tiny cellar chamber, a glowing disc of light within the
pentagram. This time it bore two riders, one standing, the other slumped at his
feet.

Lothar von Diehl stepped down from the daemon-steed. The secret chamber was
just as he had left it. The Book of Changes still rested on the lectern, open to
the page upon which Giles de Courcy had inscribed the secret of the ultimate
ritual, the secret von Diehl had felt it wise to share only partially with his
tutor.

In his mind, the memory of the ocean of knowledge still glittered. He had
glimpsed at least some of what was to be. Change was coming to the Old World.
Elves returning from their long exile in the west, eager for trade, disrupting
the nations of men. The Empire itself about to totter as, tempted by that elven
trade, its wealthiest province sought to secede from its rule. And a hint, a
deep darkness growing in the north. The ancient paths. A shroud removed, to be
replaced by the bloodied fog of conflict.

A truly moment for magic to take its place upon the battlefield, to become a
weapon of war for the first time in recorded human history.

Von Diehl laughed aloud. The battle magic spells were in his mind now,
knowledge Lord Tzeentch had granted to him. He would have a considerable part to
play in the events that were to come.

Change.

This was what Tzeentch, the Great Mutator desired—what any true servant of
Tzeentch craved more than life itself. And outside this chamber was an entire
world, crying out for change. Eager to begin his master’s work, von Diehl strode
for the door.

Behind him, sprawled across the pentagram, Gerhardt Kleinhoffer raised a thin
hand. Pure madness gleamed in his eyes.

“Seas of lost souls,” he mumbled as the door closed on his departing pupil.
“False heavens, false hells. All is change and the dreams of Dark Gods.”

Dan Abnett lives in Kent, England. Well known for his comic
work, he has written everything from the
Mr. Men
to the
X-Men
in
the last decade. His work for the Black Library includes the popular comic
strips
Lone Wolves, Titan
and
Inquisitor Ascendant,
the
best-selling Gaunt’s Ghosts novels, and the acclaimed Inquisitor Eisenhorn
trilogy.

Mark Brendan was immersed in his Bumper Book of Black Magic
from an early age, and nowadays his writings are considered by many to be “a
shame, a caution and an eldritch horror”. He lives in Yorkshire.

Ben lives in the near-Arctic climate of South Australia. He
writes one-liners for White Wolf Publishing and Chaosium Inc. He is an avid
gamer, and enjoys roleplaying and the Games Workshop game of fantasy football,
Blood Bowl.

Brian Craig is the author of the three
Tales of Orfeo—Zaragoz, Plague Daemon
and
Storm Warriors—
and
The Wine of
Dreams,
as well as the Warhammer 40,000 novel
Pawns of Chaos.
He has
contributed short stories to a range of anthologies, including the
Dedalus
Book of Femme Fatales,
edited by Brian Stableford.

Robert Earl graduated from Keele University in 1994, after
which he started a career in sales. Three years later though, he’d had more than
enough of that and since then he has been working, living and travelling in the
Balkans and the Middle East. Robert currently lives in the UK.

Jonathan Green has been a freelance writer for nearly fifteen
years. His work for the Black Library includes a string of short stories for
Inferno!
magazine and six novels. Jonathan works as a full-rime teacher in
West London.

After a music career so disastrous it landed him in court, Darius Hinks decided
a career in publishing might be safer. He
secured himself a position working for the Black Library and over the last five
years has written several short stories and the Warhammer background book,
The Witch Hunter’s Handbook.

Andy has had a hand in such products as
Space Fleet, Man O’ War
and
Warhammer Quest,
designed games for
The Crystal Maze
TV show, set up the Black Library, headed up Games Workshop’s The Lord of
The Rings team (lots of essential visits to New York!) and now runs the legal and
licensing team within Games Workshop.