A WARHAMMER NOVEL

THE BLACKHEARTS

OMNIBUS

Nathan Long

HETZAU’S FOLLIES

Nathan Long

Reiner Hetzau watched through the barred window of the camp brig as the hangman tested the trap of the gallows on the parade ground. With the pull of a lever, the trap fell open and a sack of dirt hung from the noose dropped and jerked in a way that made Reiner swallow - then laugh.

He swallowed because he was due for that drop tomorrow morning at dawn before the assembled troops of Count Jurgen's army. He laughed because, after all the foolish things he'd done in his misspent young life, he was to be hung for crimes he had not committed.

Certainly he wasn't entirely blameless in the affair. But when he had recognized his errors and seen the coming horror he had done his best to rectify the situation. In fact, it wouldn't be going too far to say that he had saved the camp, and by extension the whole army, from a plague of Chaos that might have brought down the Empire.

But had they rewarded him? Showered him with titles and lands? No. They had thrown him in the brig with the dregs of the Empire's armies: murderers, deserters, thieves, rapists, profiteers and smugglers, and fitted him for a noose.

He laughed again. To think that three days ago he had been complaining to Hennig - poor Hennig - of boredom. By Ranald, he would give all the gold in the world to be that bored again.

Reiner and Hennig stood with their feet in the door of Madam Tolshnaya's house of joy, trying to keep her from closing it in their faces. Their breath hung in the air and fat snowflakes pin-wheeled down from the grey sky and clung to their cloaks.

'I assure you, my dear procuress,' said Reiner, 'the paywagon is due tomorrow. We will be able to pay you twice what we owe.'

'You say that last week.' said Madam Tolshnaya, a proud Kislevite beauty of middle years with a nose like a hawk and the curves of an Araby harem dancer.

'But this week it's true,' said Hennig.

'Have a heart,' begged Reiner. 'We are stranded far from home, deprived of all gentle company.' He put an arm around Hennig's shoulder. 'Look at this lonely lad.' Karl was a beardless boy of seventeen, three years Reiner's junior. 'Won't you do your part to raise the spirits of a noble warrior who defends your land from the depredations of Chaos?'

Madam Tolshnaya curled her lip. 'You want spirits raised, raise you some money.' She slammed the door.

Hennig jerked his foot back in time, but Reiner wasn't so quick. The door caught his toe and he hopped around on his bad leg, hissing and cursing in the muddy street. He flung himself onto a wooden bench outside the tavern next door to Madam Tolshnaya's, groaning. 'Any more of that Samogon, Hennig?' he asked.

Hennig joined him and handed him his flask. 'Just a swallow.'

Reiner gulped down the potent Kislevite liquor, wincing as it burned its way to his empty stomach. 'Good lad. I'll fill this again tomorrow, when...'

'When the paywagon comes,' finished Hennig dryly.

They sat for a while in the lazily falling snow, watching the endless river of shabby refugees who were crowding into the town, fleeing the devastation in the north, from Praag, Erengrad and little hamlets too numerous to name, all razed to the ground by the unstoppable hordes of Chaos.

That was why Reiner and Hennig were here on the Empire's border with Kislev. Noble sons, like most pistoliers, they had come up with Von Stolmen's Pistols from Whitgart only two weeks ago, attached to Count Jurgen's army. Upon arrival, they had been sent instantly to the front without a chance to recover from the long march, and thrown into a fierce action against mounted marauders at Kirstaad. What a mess that had been. No briefing. No orders. Just in at a gallop and every man for himself. The pistols, light cavalry meant to wheel, fire and retire, had been forced to stand and fight like armoured knights when a troop of halberdiers broke before a Chaos charge and blundered willy-nilly into their line of retreat.

Reiner and Hennig had both been wounded in the hard-fought withdrawal; Reiner with a gash in his thigh - and hadn't that bled like a river - Karl with a handful of broken fingers. After the battle they had been declared unfit to fight, and sent back to Vulsk with the other wounded, where the army was quartered, to recover from their wounds.

Now, two weeks later, with his wound only a throbbing annoyance, Reiner was going stir crazy. Vulsk, like border towns the world over, had its share of diversions: brothels, taverns and bear pits, even a crude little inn-yard theatre where broad slapsticks were performed, but nearly all had been commandeered by the army for officers' quarters, stock rooms and stables. Every space with four walls and a roof was packed with counts and their retinues, knightly orders with their grooms, cooks and servants, companies of greatswords, crossbowmen and pistoliers and engineers with barrels of volatile substances, as well as assorted priests of Sigmar and Morr, and their acolytes. And what space the army disdained was crawling with refugees: starving peasants huddled in the lees of buildings, desperate merchants standing guard over mud-spattered wagons, threadbare Kislevite cavalry tented with their horses on frozen stubble fields. There wasn't room in town to swing a cat, not that there were cats to swing, for food was scarce, and many was the peasant Reiner had seen eating cat, rat or his own shoe leather and calling it dinner.

But even if the army and the refugees hadn't been in residence, and all the town's entertainments open for business, Reiner and Hennig still wouldn't have been able to partake, for they were flat broke. Reiner had not lied to Madam Tolshnaya. The paywagon was due the next day, just as it had been due a week previous, when a party of raiders had ambushed it and made off with everything. The army hadn't been paid in a fortnight, and the meagre allowance Reiner's miserly father had reluctantly doled out to him before he left home was long gone.

'By Sigmar, Hennig,' said Reiner. 'I am damned tired of this poverty.'

'As am I.' agreed Hennig. 'I wonder how the poor stand it.'

'I'm a man of the world,' said Reiner, gesturing grandly. 'I need sophisticated diversion. Music, poetry, stimulating company, food worthy of the name.'

'Eh?' said Hennig, affronted. 'You don't find me stimulating company?'

'Not below the waist, lad. Terribly sorry.'

Hennig guffawed. 'You cut me to the quick.'

Reiner rested his chin on his palm. 'How to make some money? There's no looting to be done.' He waved at the shambling river of refugees. 'These poor wretches have nothing, and the campaign will be over before we're allowed back to the front. No chance at battlefield trophies or Chaos curios to sell to "men of learning". Even selling my armour wouldn't buy enough for a night's drinking. Sigmar curse my father's skinflint heart. He wouldn't pay for new kit. Hand-me-downs he gives me. A bunch of dented tin an orc wouldn't go to battle in.'

'What about dice?' asked Hennig. 'Didn't you tell me you once made your living at the tables?'

'One needs a stake to enter a game.' said Reiner defensively. He didn't care to mention that he'd lost his taste for gaming during the hurried retreat from Kirstaad, when he'd also lost his 'special' dice.

There was a commotion across the street. Reiner and Hennig looked up. An Empire foot patrol had stopped three carts crowded with prostrate forms - sick soldiers by their moans and shivers. The drivers didn't look much better than their passengers, slack jawed, rheumy-eyed fellows. The only member of the party who seemed at all alert was a woman on the lead cart. She was a slim waif in the robes of a Sister of Shallya, goddess of mercy and healing.

The captain of the patrol was Deiter Ulstaadt, a pompous fool whom Reiner knew well. He was an 'unbribable' who had broken up some of Reiner's recent money-making schemes: the card parlour in the powder magazine, the conscript prize fights, the sale in charms for protection against Chaos. Reiner leaned forward to listen.

'It is out of the question,' Deiter was saying. 'You'll have to take them elsewhere.'

'But, my lord,' said the priestess, 'they can go no further. They are very ill.'

'Precisely the point, sister,' said Deiter. 'With the town so full and our hospitals overflowing, disease spreads like wildfire. We need no more fuel for the blaze.'

The sister looked about to weep. Reiner's heart went out to her. The poor thing seemed crushed by her responsibilities.

'Sir knight,' she said, 'will you truly turn away noble heroes of the Empire, struck down in the fight of Chaos?'

'I have my orders, miss.'

'Could you not relax them for pity's sake? Our convent was not wealthy, but in the wake of its burning, I have been entrusted with its treasury. I know the lot of a soldier far from home is a hard one...' She moved the skirts of her habit aside to reveal a silver chased casket under her seat.

Deiter held up a hand, his face reddening. 'In light of your desperation, sister, I will forget this if you turn about now and leave here peaceably.'

The priestess of Shallya hung her head, and Reiner thought he saw a not very Shallyan snarl twitch her lips as she motioned her drivers to turn the carts around. Deiter marched away with his squad, no doubt to find some poor innocent to harass.

Reiner sat up, mashed toes forgotten. 'Hennig, my lad,' he said. 'If that wasn't the hand of Ranald dropping golden opportunity in our laps, I'm a ratman.'

'You mean to steal that box of swag?'

'Don't be crude. Of course not. She's going to give it to us.'

Reiner and Hennig stepped into the crowded street where the priestess's caravan of casualties was still manoeuvring.

'Reverend sister.' called Reiner. 'I couldn't help overhearing your poor treatment at the hands of that oaf, and I think I may have a solution that could benefit us both.'

The priestess, who was quite attractive, in a pale, drawn sort of way, looked nervously over her shoulder. 'I have no wish to break the law, my lord.'

'Oh, pish,' said Reiner smoothly. 'Is it a just law that turns out the sick? If you can pay a little for rent, and... ah, the efforts of your humble servant, the law won't enter into it.'

The woman sighed, relieved. 'The blessings of Shallya upon you, my lord.'

A warm glow filled Reiner's heart. 'My thanks, sister. Wait but a moment, and I will arrange all.'

'Absolute no!' said Madam Tolshnaya, crossing her arms over her ample chest. 'This clean house. I want no sickness here. Bad for business.'

'But madam,' said Reiner, 'there is no need to put them in the house. Are not your stables vacant? Kuryev and his Eagles certainly don't need them anymore.'

'You speak so of the dead?'

'I meant no disrespect. The tale of their valiant sacrifice will be sung in the halls of the boyars for generations, but they have left a vacancy, have they not?'

'Not for sick peoples.'

'Madam.' Reiner lowered his voice conspiratorially. 'The sister carries the treasury of her convent with her. You could charge her double, perhaps triple.'

Madam Tolshnaya's eyes narrowed. 'Triple?'

'And I would ask only a fifth, for bringing the business your way.'

'Only a fifth,' said Madam Tolshnaya dryly. But Reiner could see her calculating. At last she nodded. 'Yes. Is good. Bring around back, so nobody see. And they no come in house, ever!'

'Of course not, madam,' said Reiner, bowing. 'You won't regret this.'

He strode back to the street, grinning. Money at last!

It wasn't easy money. The invalids were more diseased than Reiner could have imagined. In fact, he had a hard time believing men so ill could still be alive. Most were carried into the stables on planks, and even those who could walk shambled like sleepwalkers and were covered in purple pustules. One little fellow, a Kislevite with long moustaches and an enormous hat of snow leopard fur decorated with a gold and red cockade, had an open wound in his arm that crawled with maggots. They were laid down one to a stall on either side of the stable's central aisle.

Reiner stood well upwind of them as he accepted from the priestess, who introduced herself as Sister Anyaka, a small purse of reikmarks and jewels. He palmed it quickly. It wouldn't do to let Madam Tolshnaya see the transaction. Not when she had already paid him.

That night, at one of Vulsk's better taverns - which meant only that the floor was stone and not dirt, and that they burned wood and not yak dung in the fireplace - Reiner and Hennig toasted their good fortune with mugs of samogon bought with the sister's gold.

'It gives one a warm feeling, Hennig, doing good,' said Reiner.

'Absholutely,' said Hennig, well on his way to inebriation. 'Burns all the way down.'

Reiner wiped his mouth. 'There's nothing more gratifying than charity. Particularly when it pays so well.'

'Poor li'l sister,' said Hennig. 'Tendin' all those sickies. How does she stand the shmell?'

'That's what religion is for, lad.'

'It takes away the shmell?'

'No. Just makes you feel noble for bearing it. To your health.'

'And to yers.'

The next morning, with heads that felt full of burning rocks, Reiner and Hennig returned to Madam Tolshnaya's to see if there was anymore milking to be done. By Reiner's estimation, the jewelled casket Sister Anyaka was carrying was still two-thirds full. But as the two friends walked around the brothel to the stables, Madam Tolshnaya stormed out to intercept them.

'She not keep them in stables!' she cried.

Reiner clutched his aching head. 'Say again, madam? Quietly, if you please.'

'The sick men. They walk around in middle of night. Scare my girls.'

'Ridiculous.' said Reiner. 'Those lads can barely crawl.'

'Svetya say she see sick man limp out back gate.'

'Most likely a drunk soldier.' said Hennig. 'Off to make yellow snow.'

'You're jumping at shadows.' added Reiner.

'Well.' said the madam sulkily, 'you tell shadows I want more money.'

They left her and knocked on the stable door. After a moment the sister opened it.

Reiner bowed. 'Good morning, sister. I trust the accommodations are adequate?'

'Most satisfactory, my lord.'

'I am gratified to hear it. We came to ask if there was anything else you required.'

The priestess frowned. 'Er, there are two things, but I hesitate to ask. One is less than pleasant.'

'We are yours to command.' said Reiner.

The woman bit her lip. 'Well, the first thing is easy enough.' She pulled a piece of parchment from her robe. 'Only take this to a wise woman and purchase these medicines. It is the second that may tax you. One of my patients is beyond my abilities to cure. He has a problem of the liver and needs the care of a surgeon. If you could get him to the infirmary of your camp, all would be well. The trouble is that he is a Kislevite.'

Reiner sucked air through his teeth. 'Mmm, yes. That is difficult. The doctors are a bit strict about who they let in. I'd have to ask a few people to look the other way, which might require further applications of cash.'

'Oh, certainly.' said the priestess. She opened the purse at her belt and pulled out a handful of coins, rings and brooches. 'Will this be enough?'

Reiner elbowed Hennig in the ribs, for the lad was gaping. 'Oh yes, this should do.' he said nonchalantly.

Half an hour later, Reiner and Hennig were laughing and slapping one another on the back as they rode from the Empire camp on the cart with which they had delivered the sick man to the infirmary.

'A bit difficult, he says.' giggled Hennig. 'It was all I could do to keep a straight face.'

'Well you did, lad. There's more to be had from that fountain. We wouldn't want to spoil things. The girl's the easiest mark I've ever laid eyes upon.'

It had cost Reiner and Hennig exactly four silver pfennigs to purchase a uniform of the Talabheim Pike from a black marketeer, and while dressing the sick man in it and shaving his Kislevite moustaches had been less than pleasant experiences - he smelled awful and complained constantly that he was infested with daemons - the effort was worth it, for the rest had been easy. They had delivered him to the infirmary, left him and a description of his symptoms with an orderly, and rode away again with no questions asked and the golden contents of Reiner's purse untouched.

'Now,' said Reiner cheerily, 'let's go get the shopping done, and retire to Madam Tolshnaya's for a much-deserved reward.'

But the second task proved more difficult. Even finding a wise woman was a chore. The villagers they asked wouldn't even admit that the town had a wise woman, insisting that they were modern people just like their Empire neighbours.

Reiner was confused by this attitude, attributing it first to anxiety over being thought inferior, but the words weren't said defensively, but with a sullen furtiveness. At last Reiner realised that the townsfolk were afraid he was a Sigmarite witch finder, looking to hang their local dispenser of love charms for witchcraft.

The response changed instantly when he asked instead, in the hesitant and embarrassed voice of a schoolboy, if there was someone who sold talismans for protection against lover's pox. Then he was told, with smirks and elbow nudges, to go see old Mother Yagna. She would put everything right.

Reiner and Hennig found the wise woman in a thatch-roofed shack outside a small fishing village just a few leagues down the river road. She was a short, frog-faced old crone in colourful rags who scuttled between towering jar-lined shelves, a clay stove and her mortar and pestle with the activity of a spider. She was less suspicious than the villagers. It was obvious she was used to soldiers seeking her out for protections against hangovers, pox and unfriendly arrows, but her demeanour changed abruptly when she glanced at Anyaka's list.

She looked up at them sharply. 'You be murder somebody?'

'I beg your pardon?' said Reiner.

She waved a gnarled hand at the paper. 'These very dangerous. Make you sick. This one poison. This one...' She hesitated. 'Bad magic.'

'Ridiculous,' said Reiner. 'These were ordered by a Sister of Shallya, sworn to preserve life, not take it.'

The wise woman grunted. 'Huh. She got rats, this sister?'

'Undoubtedly. She's staying in a stables. Would this kill rats?'

The crone chuckled. 'Oh sure. Plenty rats.' But she made no move toward her jars and bottles, only continued looking at Anyaka's list.

'I don't mean to rush you, woman,' said Reiner impatiently. 'But we have many things to do today.'

Mother Yagna pursed her lips and held out the list. 'Am sorry. I have not these things. I cannot help you.'

'Foolish old crone,' said Reiner, losing patience. 'Do you dare defy me?'

Reiner loomed over the woman menacingly. She smelled of turnips and bitter herbs. 'Listen, witch. You exist here at the mercy of the Empire, which has so far turned a blind eye to your heathen hedge magics. But it could just as easily go hard on you if you were accused of consorting with daemons, if someone were to say you'd been kissing the enemy's fundament by the light of the full moon. Do you understand me?'

Mother Yagna met his eye with an unblinking glare. She said nothing.

'Now, I am a fair man,' Reiner continued, 'I care not what two pfennig wart charms you fob off on ignorant peasants. I only want what I know you have, and I am willing to pay for it. Look!' He shook his purse. It jingled impressively. 'I will give you ten times what your leaves and twigs are worth. Only fill the order and let me be on my way.'

The old woman's expression hardened to stone. She turned without a word and began filling packets of dry leaves with powders and herbs. By the time she had finished, a hard knot of remorse had formed in Reiner's chest. He had no compunctions about getting what he wanted through guile, but intimidation of the weak wasn't his way. It had no finesse. Consequently, when he dipped into his purse to pay her, he took out more than he intended, letting fall on her table a handful of coins and jewels.

'Here, mother,' he said. 'May this soothe your pride.'

The old woman sneered. 'I no want your...' She stopped, staring. With trembling hands she picked up a ring. 'Where you get this?' she demanded.

'Curse your insolence,' snarled Reiner. 'Why should I...'

'Graverobber!' The old woman advanced on Reiner, eyes wild. 'This ring of boyar of village. Give him by Queen Katarin herself. He die fighting at Praag. You dig him up! You steal his ring!'

'Madam,' said Reiner, 'I assure you...'

'I know you now!' she interrupted. 'You no Imperial. You Chaos! Beast of Chaos!'

'Madam, please. Contain yourself.'

The old woman scooped up the coins and jewels and hurled them at Reiner and Hennig. The two pistoliers ran, ducking out of the door.

Halfway back to Vulsk, Hennig turned to Reiner, who sat lost in thought next to him on the buckboard of the cart.

'She didn't say it was for rats.'

'Hmmm?' Reiner lifted his chin off his palm.

'The sister. She didn't say the stuff was for rats. She said it was medicine.'

'I know that, lad,' said Reiner.

'But then why did you say...'

'I was only trying to ease things along.' He laughed harshly at that.

Hennig frowned. 'So then, do you think the witch was right?'

'Of course not! The witch is an ignorant peasant. She is doubtless unaware of the higher curative properties of her so-called poisons.' But Reiner was less than sanguine. If the business with the boyar's ring had been an isolated incident, he might have laughed it off as the crazed imaginings of a demented crone, but the ring, on top of the revelation of the poisons, and Madam Tolshnaya's grumblings about the priestess's patients going bump in the night, it was all beginning to gnaw on him.

Reiner stole alone into the stables. Hennig was buying samogon for the both of them in the tavern next door.

'Sister Anyaka?' Reiner called. 'Sister, I would speak with you!' He glared around in the dim interior, looking for the priestess. He wished instantly that he hadn't entered. The smell was horrific, and the moans of the sick men fell unpleasantly on the ear. He could only barely make out their forms in the stalls, and was glad of it, but found that he was oddly distressed that he didn't see the little fellow with the snow leopard hat.

Sister Anyaka hurried out of the tack room at the back of the stable. 'Master Hetzau, is all well?'

'That you shall have to tell me, lady,' said Reiner stiffly. 'I have just... Er, could we talk outside. It's a bit, er...'

'Certainly,' said the priestess. 'I am used to the smell, but I understand completely.'

She led him into the yard. The afternoon sun had melted the morning's snow and there was a dry bench against the stable wall. They sat.

'Tell me, my lord,' said Anyaka, turning to Reiner. 'What is troubling you?'

Now that he came to it, Reiner was suddenly less certain about things. The young woman looked so innocent that he found his suspicions melting away. 'Er, well, er... I say, where's the little fellow with the big hat? The snow leopard hat.'

Anyaka looked confused a moment. 'Oh, you must mean Ulenko. He's getting some air.'

'Is he now? You surprise me. I wouldn't have thought he could even sit up.'

The priestess frowned. 'My lord, I can't believe you've called on me to ask after the health of one of my patients. What is wrong?'

Reiner's face fell. 'Forgive me. It's just a bit... Well, you see, I had a most awkward encounter with the wise woman you asked me to find. She recognized a ring you gave me and accused me of robbing her boyar's grave to get it. Most disturbing. And I was wondering...'

Anyaka put a soft hand on his arm. 'You poor man.' she said. 'To be harangued so on a mission of mercy. I only wish I had been there to explain to the woman.' She looked at him sadly. Her eyes were green, with the depth of the ocean. 'She was indeed correct. The ring's owner was a boyar from near here. I curse myself for not thinking of the distress it might cause.'

She touched a hand to her chest. 'You see, our mission was just outside of Praag. We took in many of the dying during the battle, and many, being devout men, bequeathed to us their possessions as thanks for the comfort we gave them in their final hours. When...' She paused, and a shiver passed though her. 'When the raiders overran the convent, I brought the treasury and those I could save south to continue Shallya's work here.' She looked up at him again, eyes moist. 'Have I explained things to your satisfaction, my lord?'

'Oh, yes. Absolutely.' said Reiner, blushing. He felt horrible, having asked such a question of so virtuous a woman. 'I crave your forgiveness.'

'You require none.' She put her hand on his. A warm thrill shot through him. 'Anyone might have thought the same.'

'Nonetheless...'

'And I wish,' she said, leaning forward so that the fabric of her habit tightened against the swell of her breasts, 'that since you are obviously a man who cares little for gold, there were some other way I might repay you for your trouble.'

Reiner's heart thudded audibly in his chest and perspiration sprung out on his brow. The priestess traced the veins of his hand with a delicate finger. 'The sisterhood of Shallya is dedicated to relieving suffering in all its forms.' she said softly. 'And I sense, Master Hetzau, that you are suffering from loneliness, that you are ill from want.'

'Sister.' said Reiner hoarsely, and took her by the shoulders. She stopped him with a hand on his chest.

'Forgive me, my lord. It would be an honour - nay a pleasure - to tend to your needs, but the needs of my patients are greater, and there are things I must do before I can give you the attention you deserve.'

'How soon will you be done?' asked Reiner curtly. He couldn't remember when he had been so filled with desire.

The priestess smiled. 'Well, I'll be done the sooner, if you will once again assist me.'

'Anything,' said Reiner, licking his lips. 'Anything.'

'The lengths you will go to get your wick waxed will be the death of me,' growled Hennig as they again manoeuvred the cart through the teaming town. 'Sigmar's oxter, what a stench.'

'Don't blaspheme, Hennig,' said Reiner. 'We do holy work.'

'But you're the only one who'll be getting a reward.'

'Now, lad. It isn't as if you've lost on the deal. I convinced the sister to give us more gold, as well as, er, intangibles.'

'I'm not sure if it's worth it.'

This time the cart's cargo was two corpses, reeking of death and disease, and covered in lesions and festering boils. Anyaka had tried her best, she said, but the two men - a handgunner from Nuln and a Kislevite lancer - had slipped through her fingers. She had asked Reiner to dispose of the corpses: the handgunner to the army's priest of Morr, who operated the camp mortuary on the west side of town, and the Kislevite to the village's cemetery on the east, where the priests incorporated local customs into the ceremonies.

It was not a pleasant task. Even in the cold, the smell was overwhelming, and Hennig, stomach still delicate after the previous night's revels, had had to jump off the cart and vomit before they'd travelled half a league. But eventually they reached their first stop, the camp mortuary. Erected a discreet distance from the camp itself, it consisted of a few low black tents, one of which was a consecrated temple of Morr. A small, wood-framed shack sat behind it, which housed the furnace that cremated the dead. Tall stacks of firewood were piled next to this, and stacks of bodies, almost as high, were piled in front of the temple. The smell that drifted from them was the first thing to drown out the stench of the bodies Reiner and Hennig carried. Black-robed acolytes of Morr crawled over the mounds like flies over carrion, preparing the corpses and taking them into the black canvas temple.

A burly acolyte with his sleeves folded back approached them as they trundled up.

'What have you there, my lords?' he asked.

'A citizen of Nuln,' said Reiner. 'Name unknown. And a Kislevite who we take to the local temple.'

'Very good, my lord,' said the man, turning to whistle at two acolytes who wore heavy gloves and kerchiefs over their faces. 'Though there'll be a wait until we can see to him properly.'

Reiner surveyed the mounds as the masked acolytes lifted the body off the cart, 'Does the war truly go so poorly?'

'Taint the war, my lord. It's sickness. Last day or so they been dropping like flies. Don't know why.'

'Most disturbing.'

'Yes, sir.'

It was dusk. Shopkeeps were boarding up their storefronts and taverns were hanging out lanterns. As they rode through town to drop off the second body Reiner and Hennig noticed a commotion in the town square. Villagers were using ropes to haul something out of the well, and just as Reiner pulled abreast, the men succeeded in getting it over the lip. It flopped to the street with a wet smack. It was a body, so bloated as to be unrecognizable. What was readily apparent however, was that the fellow had been terribly sick before he fell in. Though his waterlogged skin was the colour and consistency of gruel, Reiner could see black gangrenous wounds all over it.

'That accounts for the wave of illness,' he said.

'Good thing we only drink samogon,' said Hennig.

Reiner was urging the carthorse forward again when a villager fished something else out of the well. At first Reiner thought it was a drowned cat, but then he saw it was a large Kislevite hat of snow leopard fur, pinned with a red and gold cockade.

'Damn and blast!'

'What's the matter?' asked Hennig.

Reiner geed the cart horse into a trot. 'That hat! Getting some air, was he? Ranald curse the woman!' he cried.

'Who?' asked Hennig. 'The sister? Why are you angry at her?'

'Because if she's up to what I think she's up to, I won't be getting my "heavenly reward" this evening.'

Reiner drove the cart as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast. The streets were as crowded as ever with refugees, and Reiner spent as much time bawling at lollygaggers to get out of his way as he did moving forward. They were just three blocks from Madam Tolshnaya's and moving well at last when Reiner heard Hennig gasp.

'Reiner!' he said. 'Reiner, look! The corpse!'

Reiner glanced behind him and froze at the sight that met his eyes.

The Kislevite had been a trim, well muscled warrior in life. Now his abdomen was more bloated than that of the fellow who had drowned in the well. He looked like he'd swallowed a hogshead of Marienburg Ale whole. His belly was taut as a drum head; so tight that the skin was splitting. But that wasn't the worst of it. The balloon of flesh bulged and squirmed like a sack full of rats.

Reiner pulled on the reins and brought the cart to a juddering stop, then turned, staring.

'What is it?' asked Hennig. 'I've heard corpses fill with gas when they-'

His sentence went unfinished, for with a horrible wet pop, the body's stomach erupted in a shower of rotting flesh and putrid viscera. Reiner and Hennig recoiled, instinctively covering their faces as they were spattered with clots of stinking flesh. Choking and blinded, they didn't at first notice that, mixed in with the reeking ejecta, were small snot-coloured creatures that skittered over the cart on tiny, malformed legs.

The first Reiner knew of them was when one sank needle-like teeth through his boot into the flesh of his calf. He yelped and knocked it to the ground. His hand came away smeared with slime. Another bit his left toe. More climbed Hennig's legs. He plucked them off, gagging.

The street, a narrow way lined with tanneries and low taverns, was crowded with idle soldiers, street-hawkers and sisters of joy. The slimy vermin leapt off the cart into that river of humanity like fleas, biting and clawing, and the normal street chatter was replaced by bellows of pain and surprise. A roiling knot of victims twisted and swatted at the miniature horrors, looking for all the world as if they performed some strenuous dance. It would have been ludicrous were it not for the unfortunate soul, who fell, screaming, with eyes plucked out and veins chewed open to the muddy ground.

'What are they?' wailed Hennig, trying to knock one loose with his sabre.

'Nurglings!' said Reiner, snatching one off his shoulder and hurling it away. 'Revolting little beasts, aren't they? Ow!' He stomped on one that was biting his ankle.

Recovering from their initial shock, soldiers lounging outside nearby taverns rushed forward, swinging swords and stabbing with daggers. Reiner and Hennig jumped down and joined them.

'Second time today,' said a crossbowman. 'Things just like this attacked the camp hospital not two hours ago. Killed a score of wounded before we put 'em down.'

Reiner frowned at this news, but a nurgling jumped on his leg and he had to attend to it.

The tide was turning when a young guardsman, riding past at a gallop, reined up sharply. 'What happens here?' he demanded, breathless.

'Nurglings,' said Hennig, still swatting. 'Corpse was full of them.'

'Sigmar preserve us,' said the guard, making the sign of the Hammer. 'It's an infestation. The same thing happened at the mortuary. I ride to inform Captain Ulstaadt. Now I shall have two tales to tell.'

'The mortuary?' said Reiner, but the boy had already spurred away. Reiner's stomach sank like he had swallowed lead shot. 'Hennig!' he called, climbing onto the cart. 'Mount up.' He pushed the exploded corpse off the cart with his boot, then grabbed the reins as Hennig swung up to the buck board beside him. Reiner slapped the reins across the horse's rump and they were off at a trot.

It was full dark when they reached Madam Tolshnaya's, and the evening's festivities were already in full swing. Drunk troopers staggering in and out, arm in arm, singing bawdy songs. Knights intent on breaking their knightly vows ducked in discreetly, the badges of their orders hidden under plain cloaks. Fiddles and flutes mixed with feminine laughter behind the glowing mullioned windows. But though those sights and sounds would normally have made Reiner green with envy, tonight he was too angry to pay them any mind. He disliked being beaten at his own game. He was nobody's dupe. Nobody's.

He slewed the cart into the yard behind the brothel, scattering protesting soldiers as he went, and reined up with a skidding of hooves and a skittering of wheels. Drawing their sabres, he and Hennig leapt off the cart before it had come to a full stop and kicked in the stable door.

The long room was dark and silent, but smelled like a charnel house. Reiner and Hennig clapped hands over their faces, retching. At first they could see nothing, but soon their eyes adjusted. Anyaka's patients lay in their stalls as before, but seemed now very still - too still. Reiner and Hennig could hear no breathing or movement. All sound was lost in a constant low buzzing.

'What's that?' whispered Hennig through his fingers.

Reiner swallowed thickly. 'Flies, lad.'

The patients were dead, all of them. Reiner wondered with a prickle of dread if he had ever seen them alive, if they had all along been corpses, animated by some foul magic.

A faint orange glow emanated from the tack room. He put a finger to his lips and they tiptoed down the aisle, trying unsuccessfully to breathe without smelling. As they reached the tack room door the death stench mixed with another scent: a sweet, cloying mildew odour over a thick fecal reek that burned the eyes. They looked in the door.

Kneeling with her eyes closed behind a brazier of coals was Anyaka, but not the sweet Anyaka Reiner and Hennig knew. She had thrown open her priestess's habit, revealing her small but sinewy body, which glistened in the heat of the coals. At first Reiner thought that the swirling designs and eldritch symbols that covered her body - and which were echoed by others painted upon the tack room's wooden walls - were tattoos, but looking again, he realised, with a heaving of nausea, that they were deep cuts sliced into her skin, black with necrosis.

Over the brazier's coals sat a frying pan in which bubbled a viscous green stew. Prehensile tendrils of steam rose from it to caress Anyaka's nakedness obscenely.

As Reiner and Hennig watched, the priestess added to the stew from the packets Reiner had purchased for her, then ran her finger inside the cuts in her breast and abdomen and flicked into the pan the pus she gathered there. Fetid steam billowed up from the soup.

Hennig choked as the noxious cloud overwhelmed them. Anyaka's eyes flashed open. 'Defilers!' she cried. 'The ritual must not be interrupted!'

'Oh, but it must, lass,' said Reiner, advancing. 'Now back away from that fire.'

Anyaka did just that, but rather quicker than Reiner expected. She leapt up, snatched a dagger from her robe, and pulled a whip from a peg on the wall.

'Charge her!' cried Reiner. He and Hennig ran around the brazier. But as they did, Anyaka leapt over it and dashed out of the door. Reiner turned and ran after her, but Hennig paused.

'Wait, Hetz.' He kicked the frying pan. It slid off the brazier and splashed to the ground. Hennig jumped to avoid the spray and joined Reiner at the door.

'Good thinking, boyo,' said Reiner. 'Now quick, before she gets too far.'

But as they ran into the stables they saw Anyaka was standing near the door, hands raised. 'Servants of Nurgle, come forth and slay these unbelievers!' she called.

Reiner and Hennig slowed, looking around uneasily, half expecting daemons to materialise out of thin air. Reiner smirked when nothing happened. 'You seem to have an exaggerated opinion of your powers, lass.'

He and Hennig advanced on her again, but faint sounds to their left and right made them pause. It was a creaking, stretching noise, like leather being pulled taut. Their eyes settled on the body in the stall nearest them. Its stomach was swelling like a bladder filling with air. Reiner glanced at the stall opposite. That body too was swelling.

'Oh gods,' he groaned.

A wet pop sounded from the darkness, and another, followed by a horrible chittering and rustling. The body on their left exploded, showering them with rotten flesh as mucus-covered nurglings spewed from its stomach. The body on the right followed like an echo.

'Sigmar save us,' quavered Hennig. 'So many.'

'Forget 'em, lad.' said Reiner, starting forward. 'Get their mistress.'

He and Hennig ran at the sorceress, while corpses exploded left and right. But before they'd closed half the distance, Hennig cried out and fell.

Reiner stopped. Hennig was clutching his boot and screaming. Reiner looked down. Hennig's boot was falling apart. Where splashings of Anyaka's brew had touched it, the leather was eaten away, and the flesh beneath it boiled with blisters that split and popped as if Hennig's foot was on fire.

Hennig's shrieks grew louder. His hands, having touched his boots, were blistering as well. 'Stop it, Reiner! Make it stop!'

'Lad, I...'

Anyaka laughed. Reiner looked up. The sorceress was stepping into the yard and closing the door behind her.

'Foul witch!' he cried, but there was no time for curses. Out of the darkness a seething carpet of nurglings was converging on them.

'Hang on, lad.' Reiner grabbed Hennig under the arms and dragged him as fast as he could toward the closed door. It wasn't fast enough. A nurgling leapt on Reiner's back. Three climbed up his legs. Another bit into his arm. They were crawling over Hennig like roaches. The boy swatted at them weakly, but they only bit his hands.

A nurgling clawed Reiner's neck. He dropped Hennig involuntarily and flung the little beast away. Hennig instantly disappeared under the wave of vermin. Reiner tried to pull him out, but nurglings swarmed around him, biting and scratching him to the bone. He roared with rage and pain and was forced to leap onto a parked draycart, stamping his feet and scraping with dagger and sabre to dislodge the beasts that clung to him. He was bleeding all over.

'Reiner!' shrieked Hennig, his voice unrecognizable in his terror. 'Reiner, save me!'

Hennig was but a thrashing mound under the madly squirming forms. An arm shot up out of the mass, clawing the air. It was stripped, only a few pink scraps hanging from wet bones. Then the arm sank again, falling apart as it dropped. The little daemons had even eaten the cartilage.

Reiner's throat constricted. His friend was gone, who had moments before been a laughing, skirt-chasing lad with a contagious smile. 'Hennig... Karl. I... Gods, what am I to tell your mother?'

A nurgling bit his foot. Reiner yelped and danced back. No time for grief. The little daemons were swarming up the cart's wheels. Reiner looked around desperately. He was too far from the door to run for it. The nurglings would bring him down before he got halfway there. He couldn't kill them all. He was no Sigmar, and nurglings were much smaller targets than orcs. If only he had wings.

The thought made him glance up, and his heart flooded with new hope. The hayloft had a small door, directly over the main door. Reiner leapt up, caught a crossbeam, and clambered up to the loft. A few nurglings came with him, clinging to his boots, and he rolled and kicked, twitching and biting back screams, until he had crushed the tenacious vermin into red paste.

The others didn't give up. Hearing a scrabbling, he looked down. The nurglings were climbing the posts, digging their needle-sharp claws into the wood. Reiner hurried to the loft door and pushed it open. In the yard below, Anyaka listened at the stable door, belting her robe. Reiner smiled. Here was an opportunity not to be missed.

He leapt down, slashing with his sabre.

It was not quite the devastating attack he envisaged. First, he misjudged his leap, and jarred his sword arm against the wall as he dropped, so that while he knocked Anyaka flat, he missed her utterly with his sword. Second, he had forgotten his wounded leg. He grunted in pain as he landed on it and fell flat on his back.

Anyaka was up instantly, advancing with dagger and whip.

Reiner raised his sabre. 'Sorry, lass. Your ceremony will remain unfinished while I live.'

She smiled, her eyes focusing behind him. 'That won't be long.'

Reiner glanced back. The stable doors were swinging out, pushed open by a mass of nurglings spilling into the yard like a river breaking through a dam.

'Your doom is upon you,' laughed Anyaka.

Reiner cursed and scrambled painfully to his feet. 'At least you won't live to rejoice in it.' He lunged at her and cut her shoulder.

She yelped and ran, trying to angle toward to the street, but Reiner blocked her way, slashing again. The nurglings swarmed toward them, their little eyes glinting in the lamp light like jewels.

Anyaka wheeled for the brothel's back door and disappeared into the kitchen. Reiner was behind her, limping madly.

The nurglings were right behind him.

Anyaka and Reiner crashed through the narrow kitchen, frightening the Kislevite cook and the half-naked serving maids, and burst into the brothel's front room, a candle-lit salon crowded with rowdy, red-faced knights and laughing, languorous harlots.

'Save me!' cried Anyaka. 'Save me, gentles! He means to slay me!'

'Stop her!' bellowed Reiner. 'She's a sorceress! She's loosed a plague upon us!'

But both appeals were lost in a rising chorus of shrieks and curses as the nurglings erupted from the kitchen and fell upon the revellers. Harlots screamed and climbed the furniture, drunken knights roared and bashed at the nurglings with daggers, bottles and candlesticks, shouting for their swords. In their inebriated state, the men did as much damage to each other as to the nurglings: wild swings cut fingers, mashed toes and bloodied noses. Fights broke out among friends.

In this carnage the nurglings flourished; raking eyes, biting hands and feet, opening veins in leg, neck and arm. All over the room harlots and soldiers alike shrieked as blood pumped from shredded arteries. Others fell to the floor with severed tendons to drown in a chittering swell of teeth and claws.

Caught in this mad whirlpool, Reiner and Anyaka continued their chase. Reiner felt like he was in a dream, where no matter how swiftly he ran, he moved only inches, but at last he cornered the sorceress in a romantic nook, complete with a love seat and plaster cherubs.

'Spare me!' cried Anyaka, piteously.

'As you spared Hennig?' Reiner pulled back for the killing thrust, but strong hands pinned his arms.

'How now, sir?' said a black-bearded knight. 'Do you violence to the good lady?'

'For shame.' said another, a blond giant with cavalry braids.

'She's not a good lady.' panted Reiner. 'She's a priestess of Nurgle!'

'Protect me, noble knights!' Anyaka begged. 'It is he who is a servant of Nurgle. It is he who has summoned these foul vermin.'

'A sorcerer, hey?' said the first knight. 'He has the look.'

'Don't believe her!' said Reiner desperately. 'She wears marks of Chaos carved into her very flesh. Open her robe and look for yourself.'

The blond knight punched him in the face. 'Swine! Dare you ask us to abuse a Sister of Shallya thus?'

Reiner spat blood. 'But she's-'

He was interrupted as a pack of nurglings discovered the party and attacked. Anyaka bolted from the alcove. Roaring in pain, the knights dropped Reiner and slashed at the nurglings with wild abandon.

Reiner wormed between the two giants, chopping at clinging nurglings as he went, and ran back into the salon. He spied Anyaka through the surging crowd, making for the kitchen. He ploughed after her, and after a frantic push reached the kitchen and rushed through it. A serving maid sobbed, eyeless, in a corner. The cook lay sizzling in his cooking fire, dead from a thousand bites.

Reiner ran into the yard. Anyaka wasn't there. He limped quickly to the stable and listened. A murmur of chanting reached him.

Picking up a wooden bucket, he crept down the aisle past poor Hennig's bones to the tack room door, and listened again. The chanting continued unabated. He looked in. Anyaka had righted the frying pan and was once again filling it with poisonous ingredients, muttering over it all the while.

Reiner drew back. He hefted the bucket, took a deep breath, then spun into the door and hurled it. The bucket crashed into the brazier, overturning it, scattering hot coals and sending the frying pan flying.

Anyaka shrieked and fell back as boiling liquid splashed her. Reiner limped forward, sabre high, but the sorceress rolled away from him, around the fire. Reiner attempted to turn, but had to leap awkwardly over the spreading pool of poison and jarred his bad leg. Anyaka scrambled out of the door.

Reiner staggered after her, kicking through the fire that was spreading across the straw-covered floor. The stable aisle was empty, but he could hear the sorceress moaning from one of the stalls. He approached it cautiously. Anyaka was crooning as if enjoying the most sensuous pleasures imaginable. 'Lord Nurgle, I thank you for this glorious pain, for the poison that wracks my body so deliciously, for the gift of plague that I shall spread to all who feel my touch.'

Reiner looked into the stall. Anyaka huddled beside an exploded corpse, but as Reiner's flame-cast shadow crossed her, she looked up. He stepped back, aghast. The boiling poison had splashed her face, raising flame-red blisters from her left temple to her chin. Her lips on that side had shrivelled away from her teeth, and her left eye was a bulging white orb with no pupil, too big for its socket.

With an animal snarl the sorceress leapt at him, the corpse's curved Kislevite sword in her hand. Reiner parried, but her blow was so powerful it knocked his blade against his brow, stunning him. He fell back, Anyaka raining blows on him like twenty women. She was frighteningly strong, striking sparks with every slash. His sabre was soon so pitted it looked like a saw blade.

At last he bound her high, but she kicked him in the chest and he flew back, crashing against a stall. She advanced slowly, smiling, the fire from the tack room billowing into the aisle behind her.

'I congratulate you, my lord,' she said. 'You have stopped my plans from reaching fruition.' She raised her sword to her face and drew the honed edge down her scalded flesh, slicing open angry blisters. Thick yellow pus oozed out, coating the blade and eating into its steel. 'But there will be other camps, and other greedy fools ready to help a poor Sister of Shallya in need.'

'You won't win many hearts with that face, lass,' said Reiner, struggling to get up.

'Grandfather will heal me, as he has before. He will hide my wounds and corruption within, so that I may walk among the populace undetected and spread his blessings to all.'

Reiner grimaced. 'I begin to be glad we didn't kiss.'

She lunged with the poison blade. Reiner blocked it an inch from his face. Its foul ichor choked him. He staggered back, and she pressed her attack, forcing him toward a mound of burning hay. The fire was spreading quickly. The posts that held the hayloft were trees of flame. Hot smoke burned Reiner's eyes, but he couldn't blink, couldn't let Anyaka past his guard, for the merest scratch from her blade would mean death. His lungs ached. His strength was waning, while hers seemed only to increase. He dodged a slash and fell backward over Hennig's bones. She knocked his sabre away into a flaming stall, then stepped over him, triumphant, raising her sword for the killing blow.

Reiner scrabbled for something, anything, to throw, and grabbed Hennig's skull. He hurled it. It caught her on her blistered face. She barked in pain and stumbled back.

Reiner rolled to his feet and kicked her before she could recover. He looked frantically for a weapon. His sword was behind a wall of flame. A length of rope hung coiled on a peg. He grabbed it.

Anyaka lunged again. Reiner dodged and stepped behind her, looping the rope around her neck like a garrotte. She flailed wildly. Her sword bit into his boot. Had she cut him? He couldn't tell.

He kicked her legs out from under her. She choked and thrashed again with her sword. He needed to get away from that poisoned steel. He threw two more loops of rope around her neck and knotted it, then jumped back.

Hissing like a cat, Anyaka scrabbled at the rope, but before she could free herself, Reiner tossed the coil over a beam and hauled on it. Anyaka jerked into the air, kicking and retching. Reiner heaved again until she swung a yard off the ground. She dropped her sword and clawed at the makeshift noose.

Reiner laughed. 'Where's your grandfather now, witch?'

Anyaka turned flame-reflecting eyes on him, so filled with hate that, impossible as it was for her to reach him, Reiner still stepped back. She ceased struggling and began instead to spit out a rasping incantation while calmly moving her hands in sinuous patterns. A green glow began trailing from them. Fear gripped Reiner's heart as he felt invisible forces squeezing his windpipe, shutting off his breath like the rope shut off Anyaka's. He'd hung her, and she was still killing him.

Choking, eyes streaming from pain and smoke, Reiner darted forward and snatched Anyaka's poisoned blade from below her feet. She kicked feebly at him, still chanting.

Reiner's throat closed entirely. The world turned black and red and spun past his eyes. He swung the blade blindly and was rewarded with the satisfying bite of steel into flesh. Anyaka cried out. Her incantation stopped, and the pressure in Reiner's neck eased. He swung again and again, until the sorceress's screams stopped at last.

Reiner collapsed to the ground, sucking air as his throat opening fully. Hennig's skull looked at him, tilted at a jaunty angle. Reiner nodded to it. 'Thank you, lad. Well struck.'

The flames encroached from all sides. Reiner was just heaving himself up and make for the door when a group of men hurried through it.

'What's all this?' asked a familiar voice.

Reiner squinted through the smoke. It was Captain Deiter Ulstaadt and the watch.

'Hetzau,' cried Deiter. 'I might have known. What in Sigmar's name have you done?'

'Saved the Empire.' coughed Reiner, staggering up. 'Or at least this little bit of it.'

'You call murdering a Sister of Shallya saving the Empire?'

'But she wasn't. She was a priestess of Nurgle. She meant to spread disease and confusion through the camp.'

Deiter scowled sceptically. 'This little thing? I don't believe it.'

Reiner waved behind him. 'Look in the tack room. She covered it with unholy symbols. She was brewing...'

The tack room collapsed in an explosion of falling beams and roaring flames. Reiner and Deiter and his men jumped back.

'Most convenient.' drawled Deiter.

'But, but... look at her. Look under her robes. She's carved marks of Chaos in her flesh!'

Deiter wrinkled his nose. 'You ask a Knight of the Banner to look upon a woman's nakedness?'

'No, you pompous ass!' cried Reiner, losing patience, 'I ask you to use your head for once in your miserable life!'

Deiter sniffed. 'I think we have had more than enough of that.' He motioned to his men. 'Bring him.'

The guardsmen marched Reiner out, still protesting, just seconds before the roof beam cracked and the stable collapsed.

In the yard, soldiers, knights and harlots had formed a bucket brigade to try and quench the fire, while the brothel's neighbours were draping their roofs and walls with wet blankets. Others were tending to those who had been maimed and killed by the nurgling invasion.

'He's the one!' shouted a pikeman, pointing at Reiner. 'He's the villain who lead those little horrors into the brothel.'

'And he the one who talk me into putting up sick people in first place,' said Madam Tolshnaya, bustling up importantly.

Deiter glared at Reiner. 'After I turned them away?'

'And I saw him earlier today,' said a handgunner. 'He kicked a body off a cart and it exploded with nurglings.'

'Actually, it exploded, then I kicked it off,' said Reiner weakly, but nobody was listening.

The burly acolyte of Morr pushed through the crowd. 'And he left a corpse at the mortuary that birthed a swarm of monsters!'

Deiter looked at Reiner in disgust. 'It becomes clear that it was you, not the sister, who meant to spread disease and confusion, that it is you who is the servant of Chaos.' He raised his voice. 'Reiner Hetzau, in the name of our benevolent Emperor, Karl-Franz, I arrest you for the crimes of murder, treason, sorcery, and consorting with the enemy.' He turned to his men. 'Gentlemen, take him away.'

Reiner sighed as the guardsmen marched him to the street. It was just as Ranald taught. No good deed goes unpunished.

The hangman checked the lever again. The trap dropped and the sack of earth twitched at the end of the noose. It was late afternoon. The long shadow of the gallows touched Reiner's face. He turned away from the brig window. There was no laughter in him now. The sunset behind the gallows would be his last. No more dice. No more cards. No more women. No more fine food and drink. He hung his head. It wasn't fair. His life couldn't end like this. He had to escape. There must be a way!

If he could get out of the camp - out of the cell - he could make his way to the Sea of Claws. Then he might sail south to... anywhere really anywhere the Empire's shadow didn't fall: Tilea, Estalia, the Border Princes. There were always opportunities for men of adventurous nature to be had there. All he had to do was get out of here.

He looked around with eyes refreshed by desperation: thick walls, iron bars, narrow windows. He couldn't break through all that, not by tomorrow morning, certainly. He stepped to the cell's heavy oak door. The lock looked simple enough, but picking locks was not a skill he'd learned, and smashing the door down was a foolish fantasy. It was as thick as the walls.

He looked through the door's tiny barred window. The turnkey sat on a stool just outside, picking his nose. Reiner brightened. He knew the man: a dull, stolid trooper he had diced with on many occasions - and taken many a reikmark from. It had been like stealing alms from a blind man. There was hope after all.

'Vassendorf, my lad,' he whispered through the bars. 'A word in your ear.'

VALNIR'S BANE

Nathan Long

ONE

Victims Of Circumstance

Reiner Hetzau had not had a good war. When he had ridden north with von Stolmen's Pistoliers to join in the last push to drive the heathen horde back north of Kislev where they belonged, he'd hoped to return home to Altdorf with a few battle-scars to impress his various sweethearts and bedmates, a few trunks full of plunder and battlefield souvenirs to sell on the black market, and a few saddlebags full of gold crowns, won from his fellow soldiers in games of chance played behind the cavalry stables. Instead, what had happened? He had been wounded in his first battle and forced to sit out the rest of the offensive in Vulsk, a Kislev border town that fell further and further behind the front as the Grand Alliance forced the raiders deeper into the Chaos Wastes.

Then, while recuperating, he had single-handedly flushed out an evil sorceress disguised as a sister of Shallya and had slain her before she had succeeded in spreading disease and confusion throughout the army. But had they heaped praise and promotions upon him for this heroic act? No. Through the blind stupidity of his superiors, he was charged with murdering a clergywoman and perpetrating the very crimes he had stopped the false sister from committing.

Fortunately - or unfortunately - depending on how one looked at it, his arrest had coincided with the final offensive of the war, and the outcome had been so uncertain that little things like court martials and executions had been postponed while the conflict came to its blood-soaked climax. Reiner had cooled his heels in various cells for months, being moved from brig to brig as the vagaries of war demanded. At last, with the war half a year over, he sat in the garrison brig at Smallhof Castle, an Empire outpost just west of the Kislev border, awaiting execution by hanging at dawn in a cell full of the lowest sort of gallows trash.

No, it had not been a good war. Not a good war at all.

Reiner, however, was not the sort of fellow to give up hope. He was a gambler, a follower of Ranald. He knew that luck could be twisted in one's favour by an astute player with an eye for the main chance. Already he had succeeded in bribing the thick-witted turnkey with tales of treasure he had hidden before his arrest. The man was going to sneak him out of the brig at midnight in return for a cut of that fictitious cache. Now all he needed was one further accomplice. It would be a long, dangerous road to freedom: out of the camp, out of the Empire, into the unknown, and he would need someone to keep watch while he slept, to boost him over walls, to stand lookout while he liberated horses, food or clothes from their rightful owners. Particularly, he needed someone to push in the way of the authorities so that he could make his escape if they were trapped.

As the sun set outside the barred brig window, Reiner turned and surveyed his fellow prisoners, trying to determine which of them might be the most desirable travelling companion. He was looking for the right combination of competence, steadiness and gullibility - not qualities to be found in great abundance inside a prison. The others were all trading stories of how they came to be imprisoned. Reiner curled a lip as he listened. Every one of them proclaimed his innocence. The fools. In their eyes, not one of them deserved to be there.

The engineer in the corner, a brooding, black-browed giant with hands the size of Wissenberg cheeses, was shaking his head like a baffled bull. 'I didn't mean to kill anyone. But they wouldn't stop. They just kept pushing and pushing.

Jokes and names and...' His hands flexed. 'I didn't swing to kill. But we were framing a siege tower and I held a maul and...'

'And yer a bloody great orc what don't know his own strength, that's what,' said a burly pikeman with a bald head and a jutting chin beard.

The engineer's head jerked up. 'I am not an orc!'

'Easy now, man,' said a second pikeman, as thin and wiry as his companion was sturdy. 'We none of us need another helping of trouble. Hals meant no harm. He just lets his mouth run away with him now and again.'

'Is that why you're here?' asked Reiner, for he liked the look of the pair - sturdy sons of toil with an alert air - and wanted to know more about them. 'Did your mouths dig a hole your fists couldn't fill?'

'No, my lord,' said the thin pikeman. 'Entirely innocent we are. Victims of circumstance. Our captain...'

'Blundering half-wit who couldn't fall out of bed without a map,' interjected Hals.

'Our captain,' repeated his friend, 'was found with a pair of pikes stuck in his back, and somehow the brass came to blame us for it. But as the coward was running from a charge at the time, we reckon it was Kurgan done for him.'

Hals laughed darkly. 'Aye. The Kurgan.'

There was a giggle from the shadows near the door. A fellow with white teeth and a curling black moustache grinned at them. 'Is no need to make stories, boys,' he said in a Tilean accent. 'We all in boats the same, hey?'

'What do you know about it, garlic-eater?' growled Hals. 'I suppose you're as pure as snow. What are you in for?'

'A mis-standing-under,' said the Tilean. 'I sell some guns I find to some Kossar boys. How I know the Empire so stingy? How I know they don't share with allies?'

'The Empire has no allies, you thieving mercenary,' said a knight who sat near the door. 'Only grateful neighbours who flock to it in times of need like sheep to the shepherd.'

Reiner eyed the man warily. He was the only other man of noble blood in the brig, but Reiner felt no kinship for him. He was tall and powerfully built, with a fierce blond beard and piercing blue eyes, a hero of the Empire from head to toe. Reiner was certain the fellow saluted in his sleep.

'You seem awfully keen for a man whose Empire has locked him up.' he said dryly.

'A mistake, certain to be rectified.' said the knight. 'I killed a man in an affair of honour. There's no crime in that.'

'Somebody must have thought so.'

The knight waved a dismissive hand. 'They said he was a boy.'

'And how did he run afoul of you?'

'We were tent-pegging. The fool blundered across my line and cost me a win.'

'A killing offence indeed.' said Reiner.

'Do you mock me, sir?'

'Not at all, my lord. I wouldn't dare.'

Reiner looked beyond the knight to a beardless archer, a dark-haired boy more pretty than handsome. 'And you, lad. How comes one so young to such dire straits?'

'Aye.' said Hals. 'Did y'bite yer nursie's tit?'

The boy looked up, eyes flashing. 'I killed a man! My tent mate. He...' The boy swallowed. 'He tried to put his hands on me. And I'll do for any of you as I did for him, if you try the like.'

Hals barked a laugh. 'Lovers' tiff was it?'

The boy leapt to his feet. 'You'll take that back.'

Reiner sighed. Another hothead. Too bad. He liked the boy's spirit. A sparrow undaunted in an eyrie of hawks.

'Peace, lad.' said the thin pikeman. "Twas only a jest. You leave him be, Hals.'

A tall, thin figure stood up from the wall, a nervous looking artilleryman with a trim beard and wild eyes. 'I ran from my gun. Fire fell from the sky. Fire that moved like a man. It reached for me. I...' He shivered and hung his head, then sat back down abruptly.

For a moment no one spoke, or met anyone else's eye. He's honest, at least, thought Reiner, poor fellow.

There was one last man in the room, who had not spoken or seemed to take any interest in the conversation: a plump, tidy fellow dressed in the white canvas jerkin of a field surgeon. He sat with his face to the wall.

'And you, bone-cutter,' Reiner called to him. 'What's your folly?'

The others looked at the man, relieved to turn to a new subject after the artilleryman's embarrassing admission.

The surgeon didn't raise his head or look around. 'Never you mind what ain't your business.'

'Oh, come sir,' said Reiner. 'We're all dead men here. No one will betray your secrets.'

But the man said nothing, only hunched his shoulders further and continued to stare at the wall.

Reiner shrugged and leaned back, looking over his cellmates again, contemplating his choices. Not the knight: too hotheaded. Nor the engineer: too moody. The pikemen perhaps, though they were a right pair of villains.

The sound of footsteps outside the cell door interrupted his thoughts. Everyone looked up. A key turned in the lock, the door squealed open, and two guards entered followed by a sergeant. 'On your feet, scum,' he said.

'Taking us to our last meal?' asked Hals.

'Yer last meal'll be my boot if y'don't move. Now file out.'

The prisoners shuffled out of the cell. Two more guards waited outside. They led the way with the sergeant into the chilly evening, and across the muddy grounds of the castle in which the garrison was housed.

Thick flakes of wet snow were falling. The hackles rose on Reiner's neck as he passed the gallows in the centre of the courtyard.

They entered the castle keep through a small door, and after descending many a twisting stair, were ordered into a low-ceilinged chamber that smelled of wood smoke and hot iron. Reiner swallowed nervously as he looked around. Manacles and cages lined the walls, as well as instruments of torture - racks, gridirons, metal boots. In a corner, a man in a leather apron tended brands that glowed in beds of hot coals.

'Eyes front!' bawled the sergeant. 'Dress ranks! Attention!'

The prisoners came to attention in the centre of the room with varying degrees of alacrity, and then stood rigid for what seemed like an hour while the sergeant glared at them. At last, just as Reiner felt his knees couldn't take it any longer, a door opened behind them.

'Eyes front, curse you!' shouted the sergeant. He snapped to attention himself as two men stepped into Reiner's line of vision.

The first man Reiner didn't know: a scarred old soldier with iron grey hair and a hitch in his walk. His face was grim and heavily lined, with eyes like slits hidden under shaggy brows. He wore the black-slashed-with-red doublet and breeks of an Ostland captain of pike.

The second man Reiner had once or twice seen at a distance - Baron Albrecht Valdenheim, younger brother to Count Manfred Valdenheim of Nordbergbruche, and second-in-command of his army. He was tall and barrel-chested, with a powerful frame running a little to fat, and he had a lantern jaw. His reputation for ruthlessness showed in his face, which was as cold and closed as an iron door. He wore dark blue velvet under a fur coat that swept the floor.

The sergeant saluted. 'The prisoners, my lord.'

Albrecht nodded absently, his ice-blue eyes surveying them from under a fringe of short, dark hair.

'Ulf Urquart, my lord,' said the sergeant as Albrecht and the scarred captain stopped in front of the brooding giant. 'Engineer. Charged with the murder of a fellow sapper. Killed him with a maul.'

They moved to Hals and his skinny friend. 'Hals Kiir and Pavel Voss. Pikemen. Murdered their captain while in battle.'

'We didn't, though,' said Hals.

'Silence, scum!' shouted the sergeant and backhanded him with a gloved hand.

'That's all right, sergeant,' said Albrecht. 'Who's this?' He indicated the pretty youth.

'Franz Shoentag, archer. Killed his tentmate, claims self-defence.'

Albrecht and the captain grunted and moved on to the angular artilleryman.

'Oskar Lichtmar, cannon. Cowardice in front of the enemy. He left his gun.'

The grizzled captain pursed his lips. Albrecht shrugged and stepped to the blond knight, who stared straight ahead, perfectly at attention.

'Erich von Eisenberg, Novitiate Knight in the Order of the Sceptre.' said the sergeant. 'Killed Viscount Olin Marburg in a duel.'

Albrecht raised an eyebrow. 'A capital offence?'

'The viscount had only fifteen summers.'

'Ah.'

They next came to the Tilean.

'Giano Ostini.' said the brig captain. 'Mercenary crossbowman. Stole Empire handguns and sold 'em to foreigners.'

Albrecht nodded and stepped to the plump man who had refused to name his crime. The sergeant eyed him with distaste. 'Gustaf Schlecht, surgeon. Charged with doing violence to a person bringing provisions to the forces.'

Albrecht looked up. 'Not familiar with that one.'

The sergeant looked uneasy. 'He, er, molested and killed the daughter of the farmer his unit was billeted with.'

'Charming.'

The men stepped in front of Reiner. Albrecht and the captain of pike looked him up and down coolly. The sergeant glared at him. 'Reiner Hetzau, pistolier. The worst of the lot. A sorcerer who murdered a holy woman and summoned foul creatures to attack his camp. Don't know as I recommend him, my lord. The others are wicked men, but this one, he's the enemy.'

'Nonsense.' said the captain of pike, speaking for the first time. He had a voice like gravel under iron wheels. 'He ain't Chaos. I'd smell it.'

'Of course he isn't.' agreed Albrecht.

Reiner's jaw dropped. He was stunned. 'But... but then, my lord, surely the charges against me must be false. If you know I am no sorcerer, then it is impossible that I summoned those creatures, and...'

The sergeant kicked him in the stomach. 'Silence! You horrible man!'

Reiner bent double, retching and clutching his belly.

'I read your account, sir.' said Albrecht, as if nothing had happened. 'And I believe it.'

'Then... you'll let me go?'

'I think not. For it proves that you are something infinitely more dangerous than a sorcerer. You are a greedy fool who would allow the land of his birth to burn if he thought he could make a gold crown from it.'

'My lord, I beseech you. I may have made a few lapses in judgement, but if you know I am innocent...'

Albrecht sniffed and turned away from him. 'Well, captain?' he asked.

The old captain curled his lip. 'I wouldn't pay a penny for the lot of them.'

'I'm afraid they're all we have at the moment.'

'Then I'll have to make do, won't I?'

'Indeed.' Albrecht turned to the sergeant. 'Sergeant, prepare them.'

'Aye sir.' The man signalled the guards. 'Into the cell with them. All but Orc-heart here.'

'I am not an orc!' said Ulf as two guards stuffed Reiner and the rest into a tiny steel cage on the left wall. The other two led Ulf to the far side of the room where the man in the leather apron stirred his coals. The guards kicked Ulfs legs until he kneeled, then flattened his hand on a wooden tabletop.

'What are you doing?' asked the big man uneasily.

One of the guards put a spear to his neck. 'Just hold still.'

The man in the apron picked a brand out of the fire. The glowing tip was in the shape of a hammer.

Ulfs eyes went wide. 'No! You can't! This isn't right!' He struggled. The other guards hurried over and held him down.

The guard with the spear pricked his skin. 'Easy now.'

The torturer pressed the brand into the flesh of Ulf's hand. It sizzled. Ulf screamed and slumped in a dead faint.

Reiner swallowed queasily as he smelled the unpleasantly pleasant odour of cooking meat.

'Right,' said the sergeant. 'Next.'

Reiner suppressed a shudder. Next to him, Oskar, the artilleryman, was weeping like a child.

Reiner woke with a sensation of cold on his cheek and searing agony on the back of his hand. He opened his eyes and found that he was lying on the flagstones of the torture chamber. Apparently he too had passed out when they had branded him.

Someone kicked his legs. The sergeant. 'On your feet, sorcerer.'

It was hard to understand the order. His mind was far away - detached from his body like a kite at the end of a string. The world seemed to revolve around him behind a wall of thick glass. He tried to stand - thought he had, in fact - but when he focused again, he found he was still on the floor, the pain in his hand rolling up his arm in waves like heavy surf.

'Stand at attention, curse you!' roared the sergeant, and kicked him again.

This time he managed it, though not without mishap, and joined the others who formed a ragged line before Albrecht and the captain. Each prisoner had an ugly, blistering, hammer-shaped burn on his hand. Reiner resisted the urge to look at his. He didn't want to see it.

'Sergeant,' Albrecht barked. 'Give the surgeon fellow some bandages and have him dress those wounds.'

The torturer in the leather apron produced some unguents and dressings which he gave to Schlecht. The plump surgeon salved and bound first his own burn, then started on the others.

'Now then,' said Albrecht, as Schlecht worked. 'Now that we have you leashed, we can proceed.'

Reiner snarled under his breath. They had leashed him indeed. They had scarred him for life. The hammer brand told all who saw it that the man who wore it was a deserter and could be killed on sight.

'I am here to offer you something you did not have an hour ago,' said Albrecht. 'A choice. You can serve your Emperor on a mission of great importance, or you can be hanged from the gallows this very evening and go to the fate that awaits you.'

Reiner cursed. Hanged this evening? He was to escape at midnight. Now the fiends had stolen even that from him.

'The chances of surviving the mission are slim, I warrant you,' continued Albrecht. 'But the rewards will be great. You will receive a full pardon for your crimes and be given your weight in gold crowns.'

'What good is all that when you also gave us this?' growled Hals, holding up the back of his ruined hand.

'The Emperor values your service in this matter so highly that he will command a sage of the Order of Light to remove the brands when you return successful.'

This sounded too good to be true, thought Reiner. The sort of thing he himself would say if he was trying to con a mark into some foolish course of action.

'What's the job?' asked Pavel, sullen.

Albrecht smirked. 'You mean to haggle? You will learn the nature of the mission once you have volunteered for it. Now, sirs, give me your answers.'

There was much hesitation, but one by one the others voiced or nodded their assent. Reiner damned Albrecht under his breath. A choice, he called it. What choice was there? Wearing the hammer brand, Reiner could never again travel easily within the Empire. It was early spring now. He might still wear gloves for a while, but come summer he would stick out like a sheep in a wolf pack. Never would he be able to go back to his beloved Altdorf, to the card rooms and cafes, the theatres and dog pits and brothels that he thought of as home. Even if he could somehow escape the brig, he would have to leave the Empire for foreign lands and never come back. And now that Albrecht had moved his execution to this evening instead of tomorrow at dawn, and thus foiling his only plan, even that unappetising option was closed to him.

Only by accepting the mission did he gain any chance of escape. Somewhere along the road he could perhaps slip away: west to Marienburg, or south to Tilea or the Border Princes or some other foul hole. Or perhaps the mission wouldn't be as dangerous as Albrecht made out. Perhaps he would see it through to the finish and take his reward - if Albrecht truly meant to give him one.

All that was certain was that if he declined the mission, he would die tonight, and there would be no more perhapses.

'Aye,' he said at last. 'Aye, my lord. I'm your man.'

TWO

A Task Simple In The Telling

'Very good.' said Albrecht, when all the prisoners had volunteered. 'Now you shall hear your mission.' He indicated the grizzled veteran at his side. 'Under the command of Captain Veirt here, you shall escort Lady Magda Bandauer, an abbess of Shallya, to a Shallyan convent in the foothills of the Middle Mountains. A holy relic lies there in a hidden crypt. Lady Magda shall open the crypt, then you will escort her and the relic back here to me with all possible speed. Time is of the essence.' He smiled. 'It is a task simple in the telling, but I have no need to remind soldiers of the Empire, no matter how debased, that the lands 'twixt here and the mountains are not yet entirely reclaimed, and that the mountains have become the refuge of Chaos marauders - Kurgan, Norse and worse things. We have word that the convent was recently pillaged by Kurgan. They may still be in the area. You will be sorely pressed, but for those who survive, and return the relic and the abbess to me, the Empire's munificence will know no bounds.'

Reiner heard little of Albrecht's speech. He had stopped listening after 'abbess of Shallya.' Another sister of Shallya? He had barely survived his last encounter with one such. Granted, that one had been a sorceress in disguise, but once bitten twice shy, as he always said. He wanted no more to do with that order. They weren't to be trusted.

Erich, the blond knight, seemed to have some objections to the plan as well. 'Do you mean to tell me,' he burst out indignantly, 'that we are to be led by this... this foot soldier? I am a Knight of the Sceptre. My horse and armour cost more than he has made in his whole career.'

'Bloody jagger,' muttered Hals. 'My spear's killed more northers than his horse and armour ever will.'

'Captain Veirt also outranks you,' said Albrecht. 'He has thirty years of battles under his belt, while you are, what? Vexillary? Bugle? Have you even blooded your lance yet?'

'I am a nobleman. I cannot take orders from a common peasant. My father is Frederich von Eisenberg, Baron of...'

'I know your father, boy,' said Albrecht. 'Would you like me to tell him how many young knights you have slain and maimed in "affairs of honour?" You deprive the Empire of good men and call it sport.'

Erich's fists clenched, but he hung his head. 'No, my lord.'

'Very good. You will obey Captain Veirt in all things, is that clear?'

'Yes, my lord.'

'Good.' Albrecht surveyed the whole group. 'Horses are waiting for you at the postern gate. You leave at once. But before you go, your commanding officer has a few words. Captain?'

Captain Veirt stepped forward and looked them all in the eye, one by one. His glance shot through Reiner like an arrow from a longbow. 'You have been chosen for a great honour tonight, and offered a clemency which none of you deserve. So if any of you attempts to abuse this kindness, by trying to escape, by betraying our company to the enemy, by killing each other or sabotaging the mission, I give you my personal guarantee that I will make the rest of your very short life a living hell the likes of which would make the depredations of the daemons of Chaos look like a country dance.' He turned toward the door and limped toward it. 'That is all.'

Reiner shivered, then joined the rest as the guards began herding them out.

If nothing else, Albrecht made sure they were well kitted out. They were led through the castle and out through the postern gate, where a narrow wooden drawbridge spanned the moat. On the far side, on a strip of cleared land flanked by a fallow field, a pack mule and ten horses were waiting for them - their breath white steam in the chill night air. The horses were saddled, bridled and loaded with regulation packs, complete with bed roll, rations, skillet, flint, canteen, and the like. Reiner's sabre was returned to him - a beautiful weapon, made to his measure, and the only gift his skinflint father had ever given him that was worth a damn. There was also a padded leather jerkin and sturdy boots to replace the ones taken from him in the brig, as well as a dagger, a boot knife, saddlebags full of powder and shot, and two pistols in saddle holsters - though not loaded or primed. Albrecht was no fool. A cloak, steel lobster-tail bassinet, and back-and-breastplate strapped over the pack completed the inventory.

Almost everybody seemed satisfied with their gear. Only Ulf and Erich complained.

'What's this?' asked Ulf angrily, holding up a huge iron-bound wooden maul that looked bigger than Sigmar's hammer. 'Is this a joke?'

Veirt smirked. "Tis the only weapon we know you're competent with.'

'Do you ask a knight to ride a pack horse?' interrupted Erich. 'This beast is barely fourteen hands.'

'We go into the mountains, your grace,' said Veirt dryly. 'Yer charger might find the going a bit rough.'

'Looks tall enough to me,' said Hals, eyeing his horse uneasily.

'Aye,' said Pavel. 'Can you make 'em kneel so we can get on?'

'Sigmar, save us!' said Erich. 'Will we have to teach these peasants to ride?'

'Oh, they'll pick it up quick enough,' said Reiner. 'Just learn from his lordship, lads. If you ride like you've got a pike up your fundament, you're on the mark.'

Pavel and Hals guffawed. Erich shot Reiner a venomous glance and turned toward him as if he meant to pursue the matter. Fortunately, at that moment Albrecht came through the gate, leading a chestnut palfrey on which sat a woman dressed in the robes of an abbess of Shallya. Reiner's fears were somewhat allayed when he saw her, for Lady Magda was a stern, sober-looking woman of middle years - attractive enough in a cold, haughty way, but by no means the sort of dewy-eyed, waif-like temptress that had so recently been his ruin.

This woman looked like she measured out the charity of Shallya with an assayer's scale, and healed the sick by shaming them into health. She seemed as unhappy to be travelling in their company as they were to be in Veirt's. She looked them over with barely concealed disdain.

Only when Albrecht led her to her place beside Veirt did Reiner see her show anything like human feeling. As the baron handed her her bridle he took her hand and kissed it. She smiled down at him in return and stroked his cheek fondly. Reiner smirked. There was some fire in the cold sister after all. Still, the moment of affection gave Reiner pause. Why would Albrecht leave a woman he cared for in such disreputable company? It was curious.

When they were all mounted, Albrecht faced them. 'Ride swiftly and return quickly. Remember that riches await you if you succeed, and that I will kill you like dogs if you betray me. Now go, and may the eye of Sigmar watch over your journey.'

He saluted as Veirt spurred his horse and signalled them forward. Only Veirt, Erich and Reiner returned the salute.

As they started down the rutted dirt road between tilled fields toward the dark band of forest in the distance, it began to drizzle. Reiner and the rest all reached behind them to unstrap their hooded cloaks from their packs and pull them on.

Hals grumbled under his breath as the rain spattered his forehead. 'There's a good omen for you, and no mistake.'

It rained all night, turning the road to mud. Spring was coming to Ostland as it did every year, cold and wet. The party rode through the moonless night huddled in their cloaks, teeth chattering and noses running. The throbbing pain of his brand was now only the first in a long list of miseries that Reiner mentally added to with each passing mile. They could see little of the countryside. The woods were pitch black. Only when they passed open fields, where the previous week's blanket of snow was melting into grey slush, was there enough light for them to see any distance at all.

This was wild land. Smallhof was on the Empires easternmost marches and there was much forest and few towns. It was relatively safe, however. The tide of Chaos had crested, then receded back east and north leaving the land desolate, even of the bandits and beasts that normally terrorised the local farms and towns. The few crude huts they passed were mere blackened shells.

Just before dawn, as Reiner was nodding and swaying in the saddle, Veirt called a halt by a river. A patch of tall pines clustered near it, and into this he led them. It was black as a cave within the spinney, but the ground was almost dry.

Veirt dismounted briskly. 'We'll rest here until dawn. No tents. And sleep in your gear.'

'What?' said Reiner. 'But dawn's only an hour away.'

'His lordship said time is of the essence,' said Veirt. 'You'll get a full night's sleep when we make camp tonight.'

'Another day of riding?' moaned Hals. 'My arse won't stand it.'

'Would you rather your arse was swinging by a rope?' asked Veirt darkly. 'Now get your heads down. Urquart, help me.'

While the company saw to their horses and made pillows of their bedrolls, Ulf and Veirt put up a tidy little tent for Lady Magda that included a folding cot. When it was finished and Lady Magda installed within it, Veirt laid down in front of it, blocking the entrance.

'Don't worry, captain,' said Hals under his breath. 'We don't want none.' He laughed and nudged Pavel. 'Ha! Get it? We don't want nun!'

'Aye,' said Pavel wearily. 'I get it. Now go to sleep, y'pillock. Blood of Sigmar, I don't know which hurts worse, my hand or my arse.'

Reiner woke with a start. He had been having a vivid nightmare that Kronhof, Altdorfs most notorious moneylender, was drilling through his left hand with a carpenter's auger as punishment for unpaid debts, when someone in the dream had begun banging on an iron door. He opened his eyes and found himself in the pine spinney, but the pain in his hand and the banging continued. It took a moment to remember that he was a now a branded man, and another moment to realise that the horrible noise was Veirt, banging his skillet against a rock and shouting, 'Rise and shine, my beauties! We've a long day ahead of us.'

'I'll make him eat that skillet in a minute,' growled Hals, clutching his head.

Reiner climbed painfully to his feet. He wasn't sore from riding. He was a pistolier - born in the saddle. But lack of sleep made his bones feel like they were made of lead. They dragged at his flesh. The pain in his hand seemed to have spread to his head; while the rest of him was frozen, his head felt on fire. His eyes ached. His teeth ached. Even his hair seemed to ache.

Worse than Veirt's banging and shouting was his clear-eyed alertness. To Reiner's annoyance, the man seemed utterly unaffected by lack of sleep. Lady Magda was the same. She waited calmly outside her tent, hands folded, as clean and pressed as if she had just led morning prayers. Veirt chivvied them through a rushed breakfast of bread, cheese and some ale and then onto their horses. Last to mount up were Pavel and Hals, who lowered themselves into their saddles with much hissing and groaning, like men settling bare-arsed into thorn bushes. Less than half an hour after waking, they were on the road again.

The rain had stopped, but there was no sun. The sky was a featureless and uninterrupted grey from horizon to horizon, like a dull pewter tray hung upside down over the world. The party pulled their cloaks tight around them and leaned into a wet spring wind as they rode toward the Middle Mountains, which rose out of the seemingly endless forest like islands in a green sea.

As the day went on and they left the scrubby wastelands of the east behind, the forest grew denser and they came across a few villages, tiny communities carved out of the wilderness and surrounded by winter fields. But while these so typically Imperial sights should have cheered men so long from home, instead the convicts' faces grew longer and longer, for the villages were empty shells - sacked and burned to the ground, with rotting skeletons strewn about like children's playthings. Some still smoked, for though the war was officially over months ago, Chaos Warlord Archaon and his hordes having at last been pushed back beyond Kislev, fighting continued, and doubtless would for some time. The endless forest of Ostland could swallow armies whole, with scattered bands of marauders, lost or left behind by their fleeing compatriots, still wandered it, looking for food and easy plunder. Other northmen had reportedly fled into the Middle Mountains and stayed, finding the frozen heights to their liking.

Still reeling from its all-or-nothing fight, the Empire was too busy regrouping and rebuilding to send armies out to vanquish these scavengers, and so it was left to the beleaguered local lords to defend their people with the ragged remnants of their household guard. But here, in these forsaken hinterlands, no lord but Karl-Franz held sway, and the villagers must fend for themselves or die. Most often they died.

In one village, decapitated heads rotted on spikes mounted on the palisade. Bodies decomposed where they had fallen because there was no one left alive to bury them. The stench of death rose from wells and barns and cottages.

At noon they passed a temple of Sigmar. The old priest had been crucified before it, his ribs pried back and his deflated lungs flapping in the wind like wings. Pavel and Hals cursed under their breath and spat to avert bad luck. Erich rode straighter in the saddle, his jaw muscles twitching. Franz shivered and looked away. Reiner found himself torn between hiding his eyes and staring. He'd never had much use for priests, but no man of the Empire could see such a thing and be unaffected.

After a lunch eaten in the saddle, a watery sun came out and the mood lifted a little. The forest receded away from the road and for a while they rode through a marshy area of rushes and clumps of snow that dripped into meandering streams. The men began to talk amongst themselves and Reiner found it interesting to see how the group sorted out. He was mildly surprised to see Pavel and Hals, a pair of Ostland farmers who had never left their homeland before being called to war, getting on well with the Tilean mercenary Giano. The typical insularity of the peasant, to whom even Altdorf was a foreign country, and who viewed all outsiders with mistrust, seemed to have been trumped by the commonality of all foot soldiers, and soon the three were laughing and exchanging tales of rotten provisions, terrible billets and worse commanders.

Behind them, little Franz and giant Ulf talked in low tones - a confederacy of the teased, thought Reiner. While bringing up the rear were Gustaf and Oskar, riding in glum silence and staring straight ahead - a confederacy of the shunned.

Veirt rode at the head of the party with Lady Magda. They were silent as well: Veirt constantly on the lookout for danger and Lady Magda, with her nose in a leather-bound volume, pointedly ignoring all that surrounded her. Reiner rode behind them, and much to his annoyance, so did Erich. It was inevitable, of course. Other than Lady Magda, Reiner was the only person of Erich's class in the party. He was the only prisoner Erich could acknowledge as an equal, the only one he would deign to talk to. Reiner would have been much happier swapping bawdy songs and barracks insults with Hals, Pavel and Giano, but Erich had attached himself like glue and babbled incessantly at his shoulder.

'If you were in Altdorf you must know my cousin Viscount Norrich Oberholt. He was trying to become a Knight Panther. Damned fine rider. Spent a lot of time at the Plume and Pennant.'

'I'm afraid I didn't mix much with the orders. I was at university.'

Erich made a face. 'University? Gads! I had enough learning from my tutor. Were you studying to be a priest?'

'Literature, when I studied at all. Mostly I was just there to escape Draeholt.'

'Eh? What's wrong with Draeholt? Excellent hunting there. Bagged a boar there once.'

'Did you?'

'Yes. Damned fine animal. I say, your name is Hetzau? I believe I met your father on a Draeholt hunt once. Jolly old fellow.'

Reiner winced. 'Oh yes, he's always at his jolliest killing the lesser orders.'

There was a rustle in the dead grass beside the road. Giano instantly unslung his crossbow and fired. A rabbit bolted out of hiding and sprinted across their march. Before Giano could do more than cry out in disgust, Franz raised his bow from his shoulders and an arrow from his quiver and fired in a single smooth motion. The rabbit turned a cartwheel and flopped dead in the melting snow, a clothyard shaft between his shoulder blades.

The entire party turned and looked at the boy with newfound respect. Even Erich nodded curtly. 'Neat shooting, that. Lad would make a good beater.'

Franz hopped lightly off his horse, removed the arrow and handed the rabbit to Giano, who had three more hanging from his pommel that he had shot earlier. 'One more for the stew,' he said with a smirk.

'Grazie, boy,' said Giano. 'Much thank yous.' He added the coney to his brace.

As Franz climbed back on his horse again, Reiner leaned in to Erich. 'Care to bet on who pots the next one?'

Erich pursed his lips. 'I never wager, except on horses. I say, have you seen the racers Count Schlaeger is breeding down at Helmgart? Damned fine runners.'

And on and on it went. Reiner groaned. Here he was, out in the world, freed from prison, his neck spared - at least temporarily - from the noose. But was he allowed to enjoy it? No. Apparently Sigmar had a nasty sense of humour. Erich was talking about his father's annual hunt ball now. It was going to be a long trip.

Veirt finally called a halt in the lee of a low cliff just before sunset and the men fell to making camp. Reiner found it curious that the men all found roles for themselves without any apparent communication. Pavel and Hals groaned about how sore they were from riding while they fetched water from a nearby stream and hunted for wild carrots and dandelion leaves to add to the stew. Reiner saw to the horses. Ulf erected Magda's tent and then assisted the others with theirs. Franz and Oskar collected wood and started the fire. Gustaf flayed and deboned the rabbits with an intensity Reiner found disturbing, while Giano seasoned the stew and talked endlessly about how much better the food was in Tilea.

The stew was delicious, if a bit garlicky for Imperial tastes, and they slurped it down eagerly as they hunched close around the fire.

'Draw lots for tents.' said Veirt between mouthfuls. 'I'll not have anyone pulling rank or any fighting over who tents with who. Yer all scum to me.'

The men made their marks on leaves and put them in a helmet. There were five tents: a fancy one for Lady Magda, a small one for Captain Veirt, and three standard-issue cavalry tents, which slept four uncomfortably, as the old barracks joke went, so the nine men could sleep three to a tent. Luxury. But when the helmet passed to Franz, he passed it on without adding a lot.

'Can't write your name, lad?' asked Veirt.

'I'll sleep alone,' said Franz.

Heads came up all around the fire.

Veirt scowled. 'You'll sleep with the others. There's no spare tent.'

'I'll tent under my cloak.' He looked straight into the fire.

Reiner smirked. 'The army ain't all inverts, boyo.'

'It only takes one.'

'Soldier,' said Veirt, with soft menace. 'Men who sleep alone tend to be found missing in the morning. Sometimes they run. Sometimes something takes them. I will allow neither. I need all the men I have for this goose chase. You...'

'Captain, please,' said Hals. 'Let him sleep alone. The last thing any of us needs is some excitable lad with a hair trigger cutting our throats for rolling over.'

A chorus of 'ayes' echoed from around the fire. Veirt shrugged. It seemed that Franz's stock with the company, which had risen after his display of bowmanship, had fallen precipitously once again.

When the lots were drawn - with a blank leaf holding Franz's place - Reiner shared a tent with Pavel and Ulf. Hals, Giano and Oskar had another, and Erich and Gustaf had the third tent to themselves. Veirt took first watch, and the rest bedded down immediately, near dropping from their night and day in the saddle. Still, it took Reiner a while to get to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about what an odd lot of madmen and malcontents the company was. He couldn't understand why Valdenheim had entrusted them with such an important mission, and with the life of a woman he obviously held dear. Why hadn't he dispatched a squadron of knights to be her escort?

Reiner at last drifted off into fitful dreams without having found a satisfactory answer to his questions.

THREE

In The Doghouse

In the middle of the third day of their journey, with the ground rising beneath them and the Middle Mountains looming above, Pavel and Hals began to look about them with increased interest.

'This is the road to Ferlangen, or I'm a goblin,' said Hals.

'And there's the Three Hags,' said Pavel, pointing to a trio of mountains in the distance that looked from this angle like three hunched old women. 'My dad's farm ain't half a day south.'

Hals sniffed the air. 'I knew we was home, just by breathing. Lady of Peace, I could swear I smell my mother's pork and cabbage cooking in the pot right now.'

Gustaf chuckled unpleasantly and spoke for the first time that day. 'Don't get your hopes up, yokel. It's more likely your mother cooking in the pot.'

'Y'filthy clot!' cried Hals, trying clumsily to turn his horse toward Gustaf. 'You'll take that back or I'll have yer guts for garters!'

Captain Veirt interposed his horse between the men before Reiner even noticed him moving. 'Stand down, pikeman,' he barked at Hals, then wheeled to face Gustaf. 'And you, leech. If you open yer trap only for that sort of garbage, yer better off leaving it shut.' He stood up in his stirrups and glowered around at the whole troop. 'You'll not lack for fighting before we're done, I guarantee it. But if any man wants more than what's coming to him, come see me. I'll show you yer own spine. Am I clear?'

'Perfectly, captain,' said Gustaf, turning his horse away.

Hals nodded, head lowered. 'Aye, captain.'

'Right then,' said Veirt. 'Ride on. We've twenty more miles to make today.'

At dusk they rode through a ruined town. The houses, taverns and shops were nothing but blackened sticks. Drifts of ash-blackened snow clung to crumbled stone walls. Pavel and Hals stared around in blank dismay.

'This is Draetau,' said Pavel. 'My cousin lives in Draetau.'

'Lived,' said Gustaf.

'We sell our pigs in the market down there,' said Hals, pointing down a cross street. There was no longer any market.

Pavel trembled with rage and wiped at his eyes. 'The heathen bastards. Filthy, daemon worshipping swine.'

Beyond the edge of the town they saw an orange glow through a stand of trees and heard faint cries and the clash of arms.

'Weapons out!' barked Veirt, and drew his sword. The men followed suit. Giano wound his crossbow and Franz nocked an arrow on his string. Reiner checked that his pistols were primed and cocked.

'Von Eisenberg, Hetzau,' called Veirt. 'With the lady.'

Erich and Reiner jogged up so that they flanked Lady Magda. Veirt rode directly before her. Through a gap in the trees they could see that a small cluster of farmhouses were burning. The silhouettes of huge men with horns - whether sprouting from their helmets or growing from their heads it was impossible to tell - ran through the flames, chasing smaller silhouettes. Others drove off sheep and cattle. A few carried human prizes. Reiner and the others could hear the thin shrieks of women over the crackle of fire.

Pavel and Hals kicked their horses awkwardly forward. 'Captain.' said Hals. 'Those are our people. We can't just..

'No.' said Veirt grimly. 'We've a job to do. Ride on.' But he didn't look happy about it.

Erich coughed. 'Captain, for once I agree with the pike. The village isn't much out of our line of march, and we might...'

'I said no!' bellowed Veirt, so they rode on. But before they had gone another quarter mile, Veirt struck his leg with his gloved fist. 'This is all the fault of those mealy-mouthed fools who surround the Emperor and fill his ears with cowardice disguised as caution. We are too extended, they say. The treasury is depleted, they say. We cannot afford to prolong the war. The fools! They can't afford not to!'

The squad looked at him, surprised. From their short association with him, they knew Veirt as a taciturn man, who kept his emotions to himself, but here he was raging like taproom orator.

'It wasn't enough to push the hordes beyond our borders and into the mountains, and then return as if the mission were accomplished. It is as Baron Albrecht says. We must destroy them utterly. Otherwise it will be as you see - a little raid here, a little raid there, with our mothers and sisters never truly safe, the Empire never truly sovereign. Unless we want to endlessly fight for land we have called our own for centuries, we must seek out the barbarians in their own lairs and kill them to the last man, woman and child.'

'Hear hear,' said Erich. 'Well said. But then...'

'No,' said Veirt. 'The relic Baron Albrecht has commanded us to recover is more important. It could turn the tide at last. It could mean the end of the northern curse for all time. Once m'lord Albrecht has it, he and his brother Manfred will be able to retake Nordbergbruche, their ancestral home, from the Chaos filth that stole it while m'lords were fighting in the east. Then it will become a bastion against the scum that hide in the mountains, and Valnir's Bane will be the spear with which the Empire will at last drive out...'

'Captain,' said Lady Magda, sharply. 'This is asecret mission.'

Veirt looked up at her and visibly composed himself. 'Forgive me, lady. I let my tongue get away from me.'

Veirt returned his horse to her side and they got under way once more.

'Quite a speech,' muttered Reiner, dropping back a bit.

'Oh yes,' said Hals, grinning. 'Old Veirt's a firebreather all right.'

'You served under him?'

Pavel shook his head. 'Would that we had. There's one who wouldn't run in battle.'

Hals laughed. 'Not him. That's why he's here, trying to win his way back into Albrecht's good graces.'

'Veirt's in the doghouse too?' asked Reiner, surprised.

'Worse than the doghouse. His neck's on the block. Direct disobedience of orders,' said Pavel.

'He was under the command of Albrecht's brother, Manfred, at the battle of Vandengart. Manfred told him to hold his position,' continued Hals, 'but Veirt saw a troop of gunners being destroyed by some horrible norther beasties and couldn't stand it. He charged. Cost Manfred the battle.'

'Lost him nearly a hundred men,' added Pavel.

'But Veirt's pikes never broke,' said Hals proudly 'Slaughtered every last one of those nightmares. There's a captain.'

'Aye,' said Pavel.

Reiner chuckled. 'A squadron of the condemned led by the condemned.'

'It's nothing to laugh at,' sniffed Erich. 'I had no idea. The man's cashiered.'

Reiner spotted more torches moving through the fields just north of the road. 'Captain. On your right.'

Veirt looked where he pointed and cursed under his breath. 'Right. We turn west. Von Eisenberg, on point.'

The company reluctantly turned off the road. With a last, longing look over his shoulder at the marauders, Erich nudged his horse forward until he was fifty paces ahead. They rode through fields and sparse woods in a large half-circle until the Kurgan torches were out of sight and all they could see of the burning farms was a faint orange glow on the underside of the low-hanging clouds.

At last Veirt turned them north again. A long finger of wood lay between them and the road. Veirt called Erich back until he rode only a few yards ahead, gave him a slotted lantern which emitted a narrow wedge of light but hid its flame from prying eyes, and they began to pick their way through the wood.

Though narrow, the centre of the strip of woods became thick and tangled with undergrowth, and their progress was reduced to a walk. The horses pushed through the brush as if breasting through a stream, and it was necessary to hack at the branches that dangled overhead to avoid being dragged off their mounts.

'Captain.' said Erich. 'May I suggest we go about and circle this briar patch?'

Veirt nodded. 'Turn around. Back the way we...'

'Captain,' said Lady Magda. 'I believe my horse's hoof is caught. I cannot turn.'

Veirt grunted and sheathed his sword in his saddle-mounted scabbard. 'A moment, lady.' He dismounted, took Erich's lantern, and squatted by Lady Magda's horse. After a moment he stood. 'Urquart. Her hoof's wedged between two roots. I need your strength.'

The big engineer dismounted and joined Veirt. As they hauled at the roots, Oskar's head snapped up. 'Do you hear something?' he asked tremulously.

The others fell still and listened. There was something, almost lost in the creaking of leather and shifting of horses - a rhythmic murmering like a tide over a pebble beach, like... breathing. They looked into the blackness of the woods. On all sides of them, glowing yellow eyes reflected their lantern light.

Veirt cursed and waded for his horse, trying to get to his sword. The men drew their weapons and tugged on their reins, attempting to settle their horses, which were shying into each other nervously as they scented the hidden threat.

'Protect the lady!' called Veirt.

A horse whinneyed.

Reiner looked back. A black shape, the size of a wild boar, but leaner, was pulling down Franz's horse, its teeth and claws deep in the poor beast's haunches. The horse crashed on its side in the undergrowth and Franz was thrown clear. Before Reiner could even call the boy's name, more of the black shapes attacked, roaring and howling.

Reiner and Erich pulled their pistols from their holsters. Oskar reached for his handgun.

'No guns!' called Veirt as he retrieved his sword. 'Their masters might hear!'

'Masters?' thought Reiner. Boars had no masters. Then he saw that one of the charging monsters wore a studded collar. They were hounds! But such hounds he had never seen: huge, deformed things with twisted, overmuscled limbs and fat, fleshy goitres bulging from their distorted faces. Their fanged jaws dripped with yellow mucus.

Erich spurred his horse forward and took a hound's charge on his spear. The impact wasn't strong enough to kill the beast, for both hound and horse were slowed by the tangle of undergrowth. The hound twisted and fought, clawing and biting at the spear. Reiner rode up beside it and jabbed down at its back with his sword. It was like trying to pierce a saddle. The muscle was nearly as dense as wood. Even its matted fur was hard to penetrate. Reiner raised his sword again and stabbed down with both hands.

Behind him, Pavel and Hals jumped off their horses and faced a charging hound on foot like the pikemen they were. They planted their spear-butts and took the leaping brute in the chest.

Giano fired his crossbow at another. It caught the hound in the eye. The beast howled and whipped its head around, trying to dislodge the annoyance. The bolt stayed put. The hound stopped and attempted to wipe the bolt away on the ground and instead drove it further into its skull. It vomited blood and died. Giano cranked his crossbow for another shot.

Ulf swung his huge maul at a slavering hound. He hit it square in the shoulder, knocking the thing flat, but overbalanced and fell himself.

Another beast leapt at Oskar's horse. Oskar flailed at it with his sword, but his horse, rearing and kicking, did more damage.

Captain Veirt shouldered through the brush toward the bedevilled artilleryman.

Reiner finally forced his blade through his hound's ribs and found its heart. The thing shuddered and slumped beneath him. He pulled his sword free and surveyed the battle, looking for Franz. There was a swirl of movement beyond the boy's horse. A hound leaping and bucking. There was something on its back. Franz! The boy was riding the beast, one hand on its collar, the other stabbing it over and over again with a dagger while the beast snapped at him over its shoulder. Reiner had never seen anyone look so frightened. The boy's expression might have seemed comical had his situation not been so desperate.

Gustaf was closest to the boy, but though he had his sword out and watched alertly, he made no move to help. Reiner cursed and kicked his horse toward the boy, but the animal was entangled in the brush and was having difficulty turning. Damn this wood! He jumped from the saddle and pushed toward the boy on foot, taking briar scratches with every step.

Erich withdrew his spear from the beast Reiner had killed, but sought no new target, instead holding his place at Lady Magda's side.

Pavel's spear snapped under the weight of the beast he and Hals had stopped, and he went down beneath it. Hals bellowed and stabbed the hound in the side, trying to drive it off his friend. Pavel threw his arms up to protect his face. The beast clawed his arm.

The hound attacking Oskar got its teeth into the artilleryman's boot and dragged him, screaming, from the saddle. Giano fired at it, but missed. Veirt surged forward and hacked at the beast, cutting deep into its shoulder. The hound turned and leapt on him. Veirt stuffed his mail-clad fist in its maw and stabbed it through the neck.

Nearby, Ulf swung his maul again and this time crushed his creature's skull. The brute dropped at his feet, oozing grey matter and noxious purple fluids.

Reiner charged Franz's beast, roaring, but missed as he checked his swing for fear of hitting the boy. At least he'd got the hound's attention. The hound leapt at him, shaking off Franz at last. Reiner barely got his blade up in time. He caught the thing on the breastbone with a jarring impact. It bowled him over and slammed him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Fortunately, it was caught on the point of Reiner's sword, and couldn't reach him with its teeth or claws. It would likely kill him anyway. Its entire weight was on the sword, and the pommel was pressing into Reiner's ribs. Reiner could hear them creaking. He couldn't draw a breath. The creature's foetid drool dripped onto his face.

Something leapt out of the darkness - Franz! The boy hit the beast in the shoulder and toppled it to one side, stabbing at it in a frenzy. The beast snapped at him, and rolled on top of him. The boy shrieked like a girl as the beast's teeth clashed an inch from his face.

Reiner struggled up, sucking air. He swung wildly at the creature's head. His blade whanged off its skull, stinging his hand, but doing little damage.

'Come on, you mangy beast!' He stabbed it in the shoulder, again doing nothing. The hound looked up at him, snarling, and crouched to spring, but as it did, Franz stabbed it in the neck, directly below the jaw. The hound yelped, and a river of blood drenched the boy's arm. The beast collapsed on top of him, crushing him.

'Get it off,' he gasped. 'I can't breathe!'

'Stay there a moment,' said Reiner, looking around. 'Safest place for you.'

The melee seemed over at last. Veirt stood over a dead beast. Oskar was getting unsteadily to his feet. His boot was shredded, but the flesh beneath it thankfully only scratched. Behind them, Hals was helping Pavel up.

Pavel clutched his face. The left side was red and slick. The hound the two pikemen had fought lay with a foreleg in the air, their spears sticking from its ribs.

'All right,' said Reiner to Franz. 'All clear.' He rolled the hound off the boy and helped him to his feet. His arm was crimson to the shoulder.

'Any of that yours?' asked Reiner.

'Mostly the hound's, I think,' said Franz.

Reiner chuckled. 'Game little scrapper, ain't you?'

Franz looked embarrassed. 'You came to help me. I couldn't just stand by while...'

Reiner was embarrassed in turn. 'Aye aye, enough of that.' He shot glances at Erich, still on his horse by Lady Magda, and Gustaf, who was untouched. 'I could wish all our fellows felt the same. Didn't swing once, did you?' he snarled at Gustaf.

'I'm a surgeon. Who would patch you up if I got hurt?'

'Leech!' called Veirt. 'See to the wounded.'

Gustaf sneered smugly at Reiner and hurried to Pavel, his field kit over his shoulder.

Reiner watched him go. 'There's a fellow I wouldn't mind finding dead in a ditch.'

Franz grinned. They looked up at the sound of raised voices.

'And where were you, then?' Hals was shouting at Erich. 'Standing right there with yer spear at the ready and not doing nothing while we was getting slaughtered. Pavel's lost an eye, y'snot-nosed jagger!'

'Don't you dare take that tone with me, you insolent peasant.' Erich raised his spear as if to strike the pikeman.

Veirt stepped in the way. 'Don't you try it, my lord.'

'Insolent or not,' said Reiner joining them, 'he isn't wrong. You hung back almost as much as the surgeon here.'

'I killed my one.'

'I killed your one.' Reiner countered. 'You could have at least tried for another.'

'We were ordered to protect the lady.'

'Ha! I wonder do you obey all orders so literally?'

'Do you question my courage, sir?'

'Less of it!' growled Veirt. 'All of you. These hounds don't travel far from their masters. Do you want raiders breathing down our necks?'

He spoke too late, for as the men grew silent, harsh voices and the sound of tramping boots reached them. They looked toward the road. Flickering torches and hulking shapes were pushing swiftly through the woods.

'Blood of Sigmar!' swore Captain Veirt. 'Tie off your wounds and mount up, on the double.'

Gustaf finished wrapping a bandage around Pavel's head and closed up his kit.

'What about me?' asked Oskar, plaintively pointing at his leg. 'Look at all this blood.'

'What blood?' asked Gustaf as he packed up his kit. 'I've had fleabites that bled more.'

The men hurriedly mounted their horses, but Franz's was dead, its throat ripped out by the monstrous beast, and the mule carried too much to take a rider. No one looked eager to share a saddle with him.

'I don't need a knife in the ribs if he gets the wrong idea.' said Hals.

Reiner sighed and offered Franz a hand up. 'Come on, lad.'

Franz grabbed his kit from the dead horse and swung up behind Reiner, but sat far back on the saddle.

'Hold tight.' said Reiner. 'It might be a wild ride.'

'I... I'll be fine.'

There was no time to argue. Before they had all turned their horses, huge almost-human figures crashed out of the darkness, roaring and swinging enormous weapons.

FOUR

A Breath Of Fresh Air

There were a few moments of nightmarish confusion as the men savagely spurred their horses away from their pursuers and the company plunged into the darkness of the tangled woods. Trees seemed to spring out before them and roots rise up to trip them, and Reiner swore he felt the raiders' hot breath on his neck, but at last they burst out into the open fields and the horses stretched into a headlong gallop. Pavel and Hals, who had never ridden faster than a trot before, didn't like this at all, and clung to their horses' necks with death-grip terror, but by Sigmar's grace they didn't fall, and the company soon left the raiders behind.

Veirt took no chances. He kept up a punishing pace for a good hour until they had left the environs of the farming village far behind and reached an area of low hills and deep, wooded ravines. They filed into one of these, walking the horses down the centre of an ice-rimed stream for nearly a mile, until Veirt found a flat, pebbly stretch of riverbank and told them to put up their tents.

It was a sorry camp. Veirt allowed no fire, so they dined on cold rations while Gustaf cleaned and bound their wounds and a light snow melted on their horses' sweating flanks. Pavel's sobs and his cries of, 'It can't be gone! I can still feel it!' as he held his hand over his missing eye were not an aid to digestion.

Reiner's newfound friendship with Franz didn't change the boys mind about tenting alone, and while the others bundled into their sturdy tents, he curled up best he could under his cloak, propped up at one end with his short sword and at the other with his scabbard.

For the next two days it got colder and colder as Lady Magda led them higher into the foothills of the Middle Mountains and the rain of the flatlands became wet, clinging snow. It was as if each gain in elevation turned back time, as if spring were becoming winter instead of summer. Gustaf had them smear their hands and faces with bear fat to prevent frostbite, a disgusting but effective trick.

Veirt, a native of Ostland, seemed to blossom in the cold, growing cheerier and more voluble the more bitter it got, telling stories of forced marches and desperate last stands, but Giano, from sun-baked Tilea, hated it. His usual cheery disposition soon became replaced with angry snappishness and long, whining reminiscences about the beauty of his homeland and the warmth of its sun.

Pavel's empty eye socket grew red and choked with pus. He developed a fever that had him screaming and gibbering in the night and waking the others up, which did nothing to lighten the general disposition of the group. During the day he couldn't sit astride his saddle, so Ulf knocked together a simple stretcher out of saplings and twine that dragged behind his horse. Gustaf bound him into it and packed him in snow to keep him from burning up. Though it pained him, Reiner begrudgingly allowed that Gustaf did his job well, even changing the dressing on Pavel's eye at every meal stop. Hals was unusually quiet during his friend's sickness, his normal flow of insult and wit frozen with worry.

The tiny mountain villages they passed through were all deserted, and most destroyed. Axe-scarred skeletons lay between the houses, picked clean by crows, and it was obvious by the many tracks of unshod hooves that Kurgan raiders passed back and forth through the area constantly. Reiner expected the villages to be picked as clean as the skeletons, but Hals, who, being a peasant, knew the tricks of peasants, showed them how to find hidden caches of food and liquor under dirt floors and at the bottoms of wells.

They made camp outside one such village two nights after the fight with the beasts and, armed with Hals's knowledge, went searching for hidden food to supplement their meagre rations.

Reiner, Franz and Hals were prying up the flagstones in a cottage kitchen when they heard a woman's scream. Fearing that Lady Magda was being attacked, they dropped the stone and ran out to the steep, twisting track that served the little settlement as a high street. The scream came again, from a shack further up the hill. They ran to it.

Hals was about to kick the door in, but Reiner stopped him, and motioned for him and Franz to circle around the tiny, tumbledown place. 'Block the back door,' he whispered. 'If it has one.'

Reiner waited at the front door as the others crept through the muddy yard. The cry came again, but muffled this time, and then a male voice. 'Hold still, curse you!'

The voice sounded familiar. Reiner stepped silently to an unglassed window and looked in. It was dim inside, and hard to see, but Reiner could just make out a pair of legs in torn woollen hose lying on the floor, and another pair in breeks lying on top of them. A male hand fumbled at a belt buckle. He couldn't make out the man's face, but he recognised the body. He'd been looking at it for days.

'Schlecht!' he roared. He ran to the door and kicked it in.

Gustaf looked up from where he lay on top of a wild-eyed peasant girl on the dusty wood floor. Her skirts were rucked up around her waist and he had his knife under her jaw. Splotches and smears of blood surrounded her.

'You filthy swine,' growled Reiner. 'Get off of her.'

'I... I thought she was a raider,' said Schlecht, pushing hurriedly to his knees. 'I was... I was...'

The back door burst in and Franz and Hals entered.

'What's all the...' Hals broke off as he took in the tableau. Franz went pale.

'You rotten little...' Hals stepped forward and kicked Gustaf in the face.

The surgeon fell off the girl, and Hals pulled her to her feet. There were bloody cuts on her chest. It looked as if Schlecht had carved his initials there. Reiner shuddered.

'Here now, lass.' Hals said softly. 'He can't hurt you now. Are you...?'

The girl wasn't listening. She screamed and lashed out, striping Hals across the cheek with her nails, and dashed for the door. Reiner didn't get in her way.

Hals turned back to Gustaf, who was sitting up groggily. 'You filth,' he growled. 'I knew what you were the minute I laid eyes on you, and I'm ashamed of myself that I didn't kill you then.' He kicked Gustaf in the face again and raised his sword.

'No!' cried Gustaf, crabbing backward. 'You daren't! You daren't! I'm your surgeon. Do you want your friend to die?'

Hals checked his swing, knuckles turning white on the hilt.

'He's right,' said Reiner, though he hated to say it. 'We need him. All of us. We've the whole trip to do again, with who knows how many raiders in the way. We'll need someone to patch us up.'

Hals's shoulders slumped. 'Aye,' he said. 'Aye, yer right.' He raised his head and glared at Gustaf. 'But when we get back, don't expect to live long enough to spend yer reward.'

Gustaf sneered. 'Do you think it wise to threaten the man who will tend to your wounds, pike?'

Hals rushed the surgeon again, but Reiner held him back. 'Ignore him, lad. Don't give him the satisfaction.'

Hals snarled, but turned toward the door. He motioned to Franz. 'Come on, lad. Let's get a breath of fresh air. It stinks in here.'

The two soldiers walked out. Reiner joined them, turning his back pointedly on Gustaf.

As the sun reached noon the next day, they saw the whitewashed stone walls of the Convent of Shallya on an outcrop above them. It shone like a pearl.

'Don't look pillaged from here,' said Hals.

Pavel, whose fever had broken that morning, and who sat swaying and fragile on his horse, grinned. 'Pillaged or not, we're here at last,' he said. 'Now we can get this whatsit and go home. I just hope the trip back don't cost me my other eye. I won't be able to see all me gold.'

'It is an hour's ride from here.' said Lady Magda. 'The path is narrow and winding.'

Oskar shielded his eyes against the noon-day glare. 'There is smoke. Coming from the convent.'

Veirt squinted where Oskar pointed. 'Are you certain?'

'Aye captain,' said the artilleryman. 'Campfire or chimney it might be.'

'Could be the nuns,' said Hals.

Veirt gave him a withering look.

The revelation of the smoke lengthened their trip up the mountain to two hours, for they went at a walk, with Giano and Franz spying ahead on foot, scouting each bend in the path for enemies. There were none, though they found evidence of recent passage: gnawed bones, prints in the snow, a discarded jar of wine shattered on a rock.

Reiner caught Hals looking uneasily at these traces, and smirked. 'A messy lot, these nuns.'

About three-quarters of the way up, the trail was joined by a much wider path winding around the mountains from the south, and on this wider path were countless snow-filled foot and hoofprints going in both directions, indicating that large groups of men and horses travelled it with some regularity.

Veirt eyed these signs with grim interest. 'Must be a nest of them further up.'

'Not in the convent?' quavered Oskar.

'You only saw one column of smoke?'

'Oh yes, of course.' Oskar looked relieved.

At last they reached the narrow shelf of rock upon which the convent was built, a sort of landing before the wide path continued up the stepped hills into the mountains. There was evidence that the forces that travelled up and down the path often made camp on the ledge - scorched circles of old camp-fires, bones, rubbish.

The convent's white walls extended from the cliff edge, which looked east toward Smallhof and Kislev, to the face of the mountain, cutting off the tapering end of the shelf. But the appearance of gleaming perfection that the walls had given at the base of the hill proved an illusion up close. They had been shattered and blackened in many places, and the great wooden gates hung off their hinges in a jumble of charred timber. The convent buildings rose in three steps behind the gates, with the spire of a chapel of Shallya highest and furthest back. Even from a distance Veirt's men could see that entire place had been gutted, walls burned, roofs caved in, garbage scattered about. The thin column of smoke still rose, seeming to come from the third step.

Giano made the sign of Shallya as he looked at the wreckage and muttered under his breath.

'It appears that Baron Albrecht's information was correct.' said Erich.

'Aye.' said Veirt.

Reiner looked to Lady Magda, expecting a reaction, but the sister seemed made of iron. She gazed at the wreckage with tight-lipped stoicism. 'The crypt we must enter is beneath the chapel.' she said. 'So we must get beyond whoever has lit that fire.'

'Very good, my lady.' said Veirt, and turned to the men. 'Dismount, you lot. Ostini, Shoentag, have a look and report back.'

As the men dismounted - much to the relief of Pavel and Hals, who rubbed their aching backsides vigorously - the mercenary and the boy tiptoed through the gate and disappeared. While they were gone, the party found a hidden corner in which to tie up the horses and then refreshed themselves with a drink of nearly frozen water from their canteens. Reiner could hear the ice sloshing around in his. Veirt ordered Ulf to set up Lady Magda's tent, and suggested to her that she wait while they saw to any difficulties, but she refused. She seemed as eager as the rest of them to get this whatever-it-was and return to civilisation. She declared that she would come with them.

Franz and Giano returned shortly.

'Six.' said Giano. 'Big boys, and with the big swords, hey? Northers?'

'Kurgan.' corrected Franz. 'Same as we faced at Kirstaad. They look to be foot troops. No horses I could see. No fresh droppings.'

'Two walking around.' continued Giano, making a circling motion with his fingers. 'Four in garden, eating.' 'You sure that's all of them?' asked Veirt.

Franz and Giano nodded.

'Right, then.' Veirt hunched forward. 'We take out the two on patrol as quiet as shadows, got it? Then everyone with a bow or gun will find good vantage on the four in the garden and put as much iron into them as we can. These lads are tough as your boot. If we have to come to grips with 'em I want 'em well peppered, you mark me?'

A chorus of 'Ayes' answered him.

'Right then; commend your souls to Sigmar and let's be at it.'

FIVE

Heroes Don't Win By Trickery

They advanced cautiously through the forecourt, weapons at the ready, Lady Magda and Pavel, still too weak from his fever to fight, at the rear. There were burned stables to the left and the remains of a dry storage to the right, shattered oil jars and empty sacks of grain lying among jumbled timbers. The main convent building faced them, a two-storey structure clad in white marble where the nuns had once taken their meals, and where the library and offices of the abbess and her staff were housed. Its walls still stood, but black smears of soot above each smashed-in window gave evidence of the destruction within. The walls were daubed with vile symbols that Reiner was glad he didn't understand. Decaying corpses in nuns' robes were scattered around the yard like rotting fruit fallen from some macabre tree. Oskar shivered at the sight.

They crept up wide curved steps that led to the level of the convent dormitory, where the nuns and novitiates had slept. The building was fronted by a small plaza. Neither had fared well. The dormitory, a wide, half-timbered, three-storey building, had lost its left wing to fire, and the right was sagging badly. The plaza seemed to have been used as a latrine and dump by the raiders, and was filled with rotting food, broken and burnt furniture, rusting weapons and excrement. It smelled like a charnel house that had caved into a sewer.

Giano stopped them on the last step before the plaza and they crouched down. He pointed up to the next level: a ruined garden, reached by another set of curving steps, and surrounded by a balustrade that looked over the plaza. Over a row of high burnt hedges, they could see pikes pointing up to the sky, with long-haired skulls spiked on top like totems. 'They making the camp there.' he said. 'Behind hedgings. Patrol walk around edge.'

Veirt nodded. 'Right. Ostini - no - Lichtmar and Shoentag, I want you up in the dormitory. There should be windows in the third floor that overlook the garden. If not, get on the roof. You cover the boys at the fire. Ostini, you join 'em once we've finished off the patrols.'

'Surely it won't take seven of us to kill two men?' said Erich.

'They are hardly men.' said Veirt. 'And I hope seven of us are enough to take them out one at a time. Now here is what I want to see.'

As Veirt laid out his strategy they saw the first of the raiders pass. He was an intimidating sight, a shaggy-haired giant in leather and furs, a head taller than Ulf, and unnaturally thick with muscle. Fetishes and charms dangled from braids in his beard, and the scabbarded sword that hung from his belt looked taller than Franz - and probably outweighed him too.

After waiting for the second raider to pass they hurried to their positions - Oskar and Franz running low for the dormitory door, and the rest heading for the steps that led up to the garden. Pavel, armed with one of Reiner's pistols, stayed behind with Lady Magda.

There was a smashed statue of Shallya directly below the balustrade that edged the garden. A blow from above had sheared it off from shoulder to hip, so that what remained was a sharp shard that pointed at the sky, while Shallya's serene face looked up from the rubble at the base of her pedestal. Giano touched his heart with his palm when he saw it.

'Heathens.' he muttered. 'Desecrate the lady. Blasphemy.'

Reiner smirked. 'A mercenary who venerates Shallya?'

'Always I fight for peace.' said Giano proudly.

'Ah.'

While the others pressed against the wall on either side of the steps where they wouldn't be seen, Reiner and Giano tiptoed up to the garden level. On its east side, it overlooked the cliff, and here the balustrade was lined with tall columns. These had once been topped with statues of Shallyan martyrs looking off toward the heathen wastelands, but the raiders had pulled them down, and the columns were empty.

Reiner eyed them uneasily. Veirt had asked him and Giano to climb the first two, and he didn't like the idea. It wasn't that they were hard to climb: they were wreathed with sturdy, if thorny, rose vines, which made for easy hand and foot holds. It was that they sat on the very edge of the cliff, and though Reiner wasn't terribly afraid of heights, clinging to a column by one's fingers and toes above a four hundred foot drop to jagged rocks would give any sane man qualms. It might have been his imagination, but the wind seemed to pick up just as he began his climb.

At last, well after Giano was already perched on his, Reiner pulled himself on top of the pillar. He swallowed. The top had looked wide enough when he was on the ground, but now seemed to have shrunk to the diameter of a dinner plate. He crouched down, knees trembling. Fortunately the briars were thick around the capital, so unless someone was actually looking for them, they were hidden from the ground. What was going to make them conspicuous was the blanket.

With a look to make sure the raider guards were out of sight, Reiner pulled his blanket from his pack, unrolled it and - holding firmly to a twist of vine - flipped one end over to Giano. The mercenary seemed to have no fear of heights. He reached out over the chasm and caught the blanket without a quiver. He gave Reiner a grin and the circled thumb and forefinger.

Reiner's pulse beat against his throat. If the raiders spotted anything, it would be the blanket, drooping between the two pillars like festive bunting. At least the sun was at such an angle that the thing cast no shadow over the walk.

He had little time to agonise. Just as he and Giano set themselves, the first of the raiders came around the high hedge and started toward them. Reiner crouched lower in the briars and gripped the blanket with both hands. He watched as the raider walked along, gazing idly out over the cliff at the endless forest below, then reached the steps and turned to walk along the balustrade that looked over the plaza, oblivious to the men above and below him.

Now was the moment. Reiner and Giano exchanged a look, then jumped off the pillars as one, holding the blanket out wide between them. They landed perfectly, catching the raiders head in the blanket while he was in mid-step and pulling back hard. The giant slammed flat on his back, gasping as the air was knocked from him, and before he had time to recover and cry out, the rest of Veirts men had raced up the steps and leapt on him: Ulf sitting on his chest and pinning his arms, Gustaf and Hals holding his legs, and Veirt grabbing his head through the blanket and cramming the butt of his pistol into the man's mouth as he fought for air.

Erich raised his sword, but hesitated, for, though pinned, the Kurgan was so strong he jerked the three men that held him down this way and that and nearly threw them off. 'Hold him still, curse you,' he hissed.

Reiner pulled the bag of pistol shot from his belt and cracked the giant over the head with all his strength. The fight went out of his massive limbs, and Erich brought his blade down like an executioner's axe. The blow severed the raider's head from his body. Veirt wrapped it up in the blanket and pressed it against the giant's spouting neck. 'Now get him out of here before he bleeds all over the place.'

This was easier said than done. Ulf caught the warrior under the arms, and Gustaf and Hals lifted his legs, but he seemed twice as heavy as he should be, and they could barely inch him along. Beyond that, there was no stopping the blood. Though Giano tucked a second blanket under the raider's neck as they moved him, the flagstones of the walk were still spattered with bright red drops.

'Clean that up,' whispered Veirt, but it was too late. They could hear the second guard coming. Reiner and Giano ran to their columns again and started climbing while Veirt mopped at the bloody pavers with his cloak. Ulf, Gustaf and Hals, grunting with effort, tried to muscle the headless corpse down the steps, but Ulf lost his footing and went over backwards, tumbling down to the plaza with the body crashing on top of him as the rest ducked out of sight.

Reiner heard the second Kurgan call a question. He came around the hedge with his massive sword drawn and looked around suspiciously. He was as big as his companion, but bald, and with eyebrows so shaggy that he had braided the ends. He wore a mail shirt and a bearskin cloak. Reiner and Giano froze halfway up their pillars and edged around out of his line of sight like squirrels. The raider crept forward, wary. Reiner held his breath.

The raider barked another question, then stopped as he spotted the smeared blood on the flagstones. He backed up, shouting a warning to his comrades over his shoulder.

Raised voices answered him from behind the hedge.

'Kill him!' cried Veirt, and raced up the steps with Erich, Hals and Gustaf behind him.

The Kurgan turned to face them, which opened his back to Giano and Reiner. They leapt at him, daggers drawn, as he met Veirt and Erich's charge sword to sword. Reiner's dagger turned on his mail, but Giano's struck home and the raider roared in pain. He backhanded Giano and Reiner with his free hand while slashing at the others with his blade.

Giano was knocked to the ground, but Reiner hit the balustrade and came within an inch of tumbling over it into the void. Only a painful grab at a thorny vine stopped him. Pulling himself back to safety, Reiner heard the sound of running feet, and over it, the thrum of a bow and the crack of a gun, as Franz and Oskar fired from the dormitory windows at their suddenly moving targets.

Reiner helped Giano to his feet and they ran forward to help. The bald raider was surrounded by Veirt and the others, roaring like a cornered bull. Hals had his spear in his guts, and Veirt and Erich were laying into him like woodsmen felling a tree, but still the northman fought on. As he looked for an opening, Reiner saw Ulf, still dazed from his tumble, struggling back up the stairs, and behind him Pavel, hurrying across the plaza, pistol in hand, puffing like he'd run ten miles instead of ten yards.

The raider caught Erich a glancing blow on the shoulder and knocked him flat, then chopped through the haft of Hals's spear and pulled the head out of his innards. He used it to block Veirt's sword and returned the blow with a slash that sent Veirt's helmet clattering down the steps and dropped the grizzled captain to his hands and knees.

Reiner, Giano and Ulf rushed in to fill up the gaps. Reiner parried the raiders blade with his sabre. It was like trying to stop a battering ram with a fly whisk. His whole arm went numb with the force of the blow.

Giano too was knocked back, but not before he jabbed his sword into the crook of the giant's arm and cut something vital. Blood soaked the northman's leather wrist guard and his sword drooped to the ground. Ulf grabbed his other arm, shouting, 'I've got him! Kill him!'

Reiner drove his sword deep into the raiders chest. The man roared in pain and swung Ulf like he was a child. He crashed into Reiner and they went down in a heap.

'Hoy.' said a quiet voice.

Reiner looked up. The raider was turning to find the speaker, and came face to face with the barrel of the pistol in Pavel's shaking hand.

Pavel fired. The back of the raider's head exploded in an eruption of brains and gore. He dropped like a felled ox.

'Nice one.' said Hals.

Their relief was short-lived. Before Reiner and Ulf could do more than stand, four more raiders rounded the hedge at a run, axes and swords in hand. One had an arrow in his shoulder, evidence that Franz could hit more than rabbits.

Veirt stood and drew his pistol. 'Fire!'

Reiner and Erich drew as well and all fired in unison. Only two of the shots hit and only one was telling, ripping a raider's throat out. He fell to his knees, hands to his neck, guzzling his own blood. The others kept coming, and there was no time for another volley. Reiner tossed away his spent piece and mumbled a prayer to Ranald that the dice would roll his way.

Hals snatched Pavel's spear from him and pushed his friend down the stairs, crying, 'Get out of the way, y'old fool.'

Erich, Veirt, Giano and Ulf squared up to meet the charge, while Gustaf, as Reiner expected, hung back.

Just before the two sides met, a shot rang out and one of the raiders stumbled. Reiner saw Oskar and Franz running from the door of the dormitory. Oskar's gun was smoking.

Then there was no more time for looking around. With an impact like ships colliding, the two sides came together. Erich and Ulf, the biggest of the men, took the charge full on, and held, while Veirt, canny old warrior that he was, ducked low and slashed at the shins of his man. Reiner and Giano dodged left and right and swung at the raiders' backs as they ran by.

The three raiders took these attacks without flinching. Even wounded and outnumbered two to one, they looked to Reiner to be the winning side. They slashed at the circling men with a fearless ferocity that was frightening to behold. Reiner wondered how the Empire had ever prevailed against monsters such as these.

Ulf quickly found himself in trouble, forced away from the others by a raider with tattoos winding around his bare arms. He was overmatched, and gave ground with every exchange, the haft of his wooden maul splintering under repeated hacks from the norther's sword. But just as he was about to break through the engineer's defences, the Kurgan slipped on Reiner's discarded pistol and his leg skidded out from under him. Ulf took advantage, shattering the northman's shin with a scooping swing. The raider fell to one knee and Ulf darted in, aiming for his skull. But even unable to move, the raider was a danger. He parried the blow with his sword and gashed Ulf across the chest.

'Ulf!' cried Franz. 'Fall back! Back away!'

Ulf jumped back, bleeding, and Franz and Oskar, who had been hanging fire, shot the kneeling Kurgan point blank. Franz's arrow caught him in the throat. Oskar's ball smashed through his groin. He collapsed sideways, clutching himself, crimson to the knees in seconds.

There were two left, and one of them, the one with Franz's arrow in his shoulder, went down almost immediately, Veirt's long sword slipping neatly through his ribs, but the last - the leader by his size and power - fought on, roaring like a mountain cat. Though he bled from a hundred cuts, he only seemed to get stronger - and to Reiner's disbelieving eyes - bigger.

Reiner blinked and shook his head, ducking a wild slash from the man's axe, but when he looked again, the illusion remained. The raider seemed to be bursting out of his armour. The leather bands around his biceps snapped as he backhanded Veirt to the ground. The links of his chain mail shirt strained and popped. A weird glyph on his powerful chest seemed to glow as if lit from within. His pupils enlarged to fill his whole eye.

'What happens to him?' asked Giano, uneasily, as the raiders armour dropped from him like a shed skin.

'He is touched by his god,' said Veirt, recovering. 'His battle rage is upon him.'

'Well, I'm a mite peeved myself.' said Hals, and jabbed the monstrous warrior in the ribs. The spearhead snapped off as if he had jammed it into a stone wall. The raider kicked the pikeman back so hard he crashed into a pillar and collapsed. Giano swung his sword at the warrior's now naked back. It glanced off as if he wore field plate. Erich and Veirt hacked at him with similar results. Erich parried an axe blow on his sword and was knocked to the flagstones, a finger-deep notch in the edge of his blade.

This was ridiculous, thought Reiner. They outnumbered the raider ten to one and still they couldn't finish him? There had to be something sharp enough to pierce the inhuman warrior's skin. He frowned, thinking hard. The change had made the raider bigger and stronger, but he didn't seem any smarter - in fact he grew more bestial by the moment. 'Back toward the plaza!' Reiner shouted. 'I've an idea!'

The men looked to Veirt.

'Do it.' he rasped. 'We're not winning this way.'

He and the others backed toward the steps, following Reiner. The raider pressed after them, slashing mindlessly.

'Hals, Ulf.' called Reiner. 'Kneel at the balustrade with Hals's spear between you.'

'But the head's broken off.' said Hals.

"Tisn't the point I want.' said Reiner. He scooped up a handful of loose rocks, and as Hals and Ulf knelt, holding the broken spear between them, he hopped up on the balustrade, looking down into the plaza to make sure he had positioned himself correctly.

'All right.' he cried. 'Scatter!'

Giano and Veirt jumped back, but Erich hesitated.

'You heard him.' bellowed Veirt. 'Get away!'

Erich leapt to the side, and before the transformed northman could go after any of them, Reiner shied a rock at him. It hit him in the chest. He looked up.

'Come on, you dirt-eating heathen!' shouted Reiner. He hurled another rock. It caught the Kurgan on the bridge of the nose. He howled.

'You overgrown ox!' shouted Reiner. He bounced another rock off the warrior's forehead. 'You motherless son of a goatherd! I've stepped in things that smelled better than you.'

With an ear-splitting roar, the mutated marauder charged Reiner, axe swinging. At the last possible second, Reiner dived to the side and crashed to the flags. The raider hit the balustrade at thigh level and toppled forward. Hals and Ulf helped him along, raising his legs with the broken spear and flipping him over the rail to the plaza below.

There was a horrible wet crunch and an animal cry of agony cut short. Reiner stood, holding his mouth. He'd bitten his tongue when he landed and it was bleeding. He looked over the balustrade with the rest. They gasped. He smirked. His plan had worked. The Chaos marauder was impaled on the sheared-off statue of Shallya, the sharp wedge of marble jutting up through his shattered ribs like a white island rising from a red swamp.

'Sigmar's hammer,' said Hals, rubbing his chest where the raider had kicked him. 'He didn't half deserve that.'

'Bravo,' said Giano. 'But he might have missed. Why not just...?' He pointed to the cliff-edge balustrade.

'Because, unlike you,' Reiner said, rubbing his jaw, 'I have some regard for my own skin. A slip here and I bite my tongue. A slip there and...' Reiner swallowed at the very thought.

'Ah, yes.'

Veirt clapped Reiner on the back. 'Smart work, lad. Very smart.'

Erich sniffed. 'Hardly one for the bards, though. Heroes don't win by trickery.'

'That's why there are so many dead heroes,' Reiner retorted.

'Well, I thought it was fine,' said Pavel coming up the stairs. 'Never would have thought of something like that in a hundred years.'

The others nodded in agreement. Franz grinned and gave him the circled thumb and forefinger. Erich glowered and turned away.

Lady Magda appeared at the top of the stairs. 'If the danger has passed, it is time to enter the chamber.'

SIX

You Will Obey Me

They moved through the garden that fronted the Chapel of Shallya with wary vigilance. Franz and Giano had only seen six marauders, but there might well be more. In the centre of the garden they found a cooking fire burning inside a circle of planted spears and pikes, each with a grisly trophy affixed on top. Lady Magda's face was set as she surveyed the whitening skulls of those who had once been her sisters. The smell of roasting meat rose from the fire. Nobody looked too closely at what was cooking.

It was evident that a much larger force had camped here in the recent past. The remains of other fires were dotted around the garden, and heaps of rotting garbage were piled in the corners. The rose bushes and decorative borders had been trampled, the statues smashed and the fountains used as latrines. At one side a crude forge had been built, and broken and half-repaired weapons and pieces of armour were strewn about it.

But none of the vandalism the party had seen prepared them for the horrors wreaked upon the chapel. The white marble walls were blackened with smoke and the tile roof had caved in, leaving the interior open to the sky. And there were worse things than mere destruction. The raiders seemed to have reserved their most imaginative blasphemies for this shining symbol of charity and mercy. The statues in the alcoves around the white marble walls had been pulled down and replaced with naked nuns tied to stakes and left to die. Eldritch runes, so evil that it was difficult even to look at them, had been smeared on all the walls in blood, and the simple wooden dove-wings carving, the symbol of the Shallyan faith which was mounted over the door, had been hung upside down and covered with the most obscene blasphemies.

Inside, among the charred ruins of the roof beams, were the bound bodies of more nuns, who had been abused most cruelly before they died. The beautiful tapestries illustrating the miracles of Shallya had been torn down and burned, and worst of all, upon the sacred altar some perverse ceremony had been performed. Strange symbols and arrows had been burnt into the stone floor in a circle around the dais, pointing toward all the compass points. Blood had been dribbled in unsettling designs, and on the altar itself, inside a thicket of melted candles and piled skulls, the body of the abbess, in life a plump, middle-aged woman, lay splayed, bound and naked, with runes carved into her flesh with a knife, and a huge sword driven down through her abdomen and into the stone table beneath her - a feat of strength Reiner could hardly credit. Shadows seemed to move around her. It took Reiner a moment to realise that these were rats, eating her extremities.

A sob exploded from Giano's throat and he rushed forward. 'Lady of peace, no! It no can be allow! We must clean! We must fix!'

'Ostini!' shouted Veirt. 'Leave off. We've other business!'

But the Tilean had jumped up on the altar and was knocking away the candles and rats and cutting at the ropes that held the abbess. 'Cursed rats! Defilers!'

Veirt marched to Giano and yanked him off the altar by his belt. 'I said, leave off!'

Lady Magda's face was grim and pale. She made the sign of Shallya over the abbess, then turned toward an arch in the right wall without a backward glance. 'This way,' she said.

The archway led to a stone stair which spiralled down into darkness. While torches were kindled, Veirt ordered Oskar to stand guard outside the chapel, then the rest started down the stairs. Veirt led the way, followed by Lady Magda. Erich brought up the rear.

At the bottom of the stairs they stepped out into an intersection of three short hallways. It was obvious that the raiders had found their way here as well. The bodies of a few nuns who looked as though they had died defending the catacombs lay butchered on the stone floor, and the large and intricately decorated bronze doors which glinted orange in the torchlight at the end of each hallway had been smashed open and hung from their hinges, revealing shadowed rooms beyond. The rats were feasting. Giano shuddered.

'The convent's mausoleums,' said Lady Magda. 'Where are buried all the abbesses who have led us down through the ages.'

Hals shivered and made the sign of the hammer. 'Graves?'

Lady Magda shot him a look. 'After the horrors through which we have just passed you are frightened of the long dead?'

Hals stuck his chin out. 'Course not. Just don't like it, is all.'

Magda started down the middle hallway to the desecrated mausoleum at the end. The men followed, weapons at the ready.

Veirt chewed his lip. 'Do y'think they found the Bane?'

'Impossible,' said Magda. 'The door to the chamber is cunningly hidden and impenetrable unless the correct incantation is spoken.'

They entered the mausoleum, a cramped, narrow room. The side walls had been lined with marble memorial plaques engraved with the names and dates of birth and death of generations of abbesses. The Kurgan vandals had pried most of the plaques off, then pulled the bones out of the holes they covered and scattered them, looking for loot. Hals stepped fastidiously around the remains, mumbling prayers under his breath.

The back wall was a finely painted frieze of Shallya holding a golden chalice to the lips of a dying hero as a host of Shallyan nuns looked on. Though age had dulled it, and the Kurgans had defaced it with axe and fire, it was still beautiful, with much gold leaf and intricate detail. Reiner could see every hair of Shallya's tresses.

Veirt looked around, confused. 'Is this it?'

'Stand well back,' said Lady Magda, 'and I will show you.'

Veirt backed to the door, motioning his men behind him. Lady Magda faced the painting and began to speak in a language Reiner half-recognised from his studies at university as an archaic ancestor of his own. Her hands moved constantly as she chanted, describing precise patterns in the air. At last she spread her arms wide, and with a grating of stone on stone, the entire back wall swung slowly out on a hidden hinge, crushing the scattered bones and shards of marble on the floor to powder until it touched the left wall.

As the torchlight found its way through billowing bone dust to the area behind the secret door, Reiner could see that it was larger than the mausoleum, much larger. Wide stairs led down to a vaulted central chamber that seemed almost as big as the chapel upstairs, and dark archways opened into further rooms all along the perimeter.

A weak voice came from inside. 'Abbess? Is... is that you?'

'Who's there?' Lady Magda peered through the dust.

Small forms in Shallyan robes lay like drifts of grey snow around the door. More nuns, skeletal, with gaunt faces and black lips.

One still lived. A gangrenous wound had blackened her left arm up to the shoulder and it smelled of death. Pink pus bubbled from her lips. It looked as if she had tried to eat the leather of her slippers and belt to stay alive. She raised her head as if it weighed as much as the chapel. Her dull, sunken eyes blinked. 'Praise Shallya, we thought they had killed...' She paused as she saw Magda approaching, and her eyes widened. 'Magda...' she croaked. 'You...'

Lady Magda knelt and covered the holy woman's mouth with her hand. 'Don't speak, sister. There is no need. I know what you desire.'

Magda drew her eating knife from her belt, and before any of the men even knew what she was doing, sunk it into the sister's neck just below the jaw, piercing the artery, then did the same on the other side. The woman's blood flowed out of her like water.

'Lady!' cried Veirt, shocked. The others murmured under their breath, confused.

Magda ignored him, whispering a prayer over the dying sister and moving her hands in ritual patterns. When she was finished, and the sister had breathed her last, she turned to the captain. 'I apologise. Her wound was too far gone. It was the only mercy I could give her.'

Veirt looked at her levelly for a long moment, then bowed his head. 'I understand, m'lady. Sorry to have spoken.'

'It matters not. Come, let us finish our business here and leave this unhappy place.'

Veirt and Lady Magda entered first, kicking up puffs of dust with each step as they walked down the stairs to the central chamber. The others followed, quieted by the sister's actions. Reiner heard Hals mutter to Pavel under his breath. 'That's a cold one, and no mistake, mercy or no.'

Pavel nodded and Reiner had to agree as well.

Magda stopped in the centre of the main chamber. 'These are the convent's holiest treasures, acquired over the centuries. Gifts and relics and tomes of forgotten wisdom. Here also lie many heroes and martyrs who gave their lives in the defence of Shallya and the Empire.'

Giano, Hals and Pavel looked around with greedy eyes, but were quickly disappointed.

'It's just a lot of old books,' said Hals.

Reiner smirked. Though he was as fond of coin as any man who made the dice his life, he had been a student as well, and the 'old books' Hals scoffed at were greater treasures in his eyes than jewel-encrusted swords and chalices of gold ever could be. Reiner longed to be able to flip through them all and feast on the old knowledge, the stories out of the mists of time, the strange histories that were contained there. What a treat. The books were stacked all over, surrounding a few legitimate treasures: statues, paintings, suits of armour, the finger-bones of Shallyan saints displayed in reliquaries, iron-bound chests that could have held anything from manuscripts to gold crowns.

'Which is Kelgoth's crypt?' asked Veirt.

For the first time since he had met her, Reiner saw uncertainty in Lady Magda's eyes. She pursed her lips. 'It has been many years since I entered this place. I believe it is one of the three along the far wall, but I cannot be sure.'

Veirt sighed and looked around at the men. 'All right, you gallows birds, if we want to get out of these mountains before sundown we need to find this relic quick. You will help the lady search, but you will not slip any bits and pieces into your pockets, or I will pull off your fingers one by one, do I make myself clear?'

The men nodded.

'Right then, listen first.' said Veirt. 'What you're looking for is a battle standard.' The captain's voice suddenly trembled with emotion. 'The Griffin's Wing. The Heart of Kelgoth, known since the battle of Morntau Crag as...'

'Valnir's Bane!' said Erich in a reverent whisper. 'By the hammer!'

'Never heard of it,' grumbled Hals.

Erich sneered. 'Ignorant villain, it is one of the great lost relics of the Empire. A banner so pure and powerful that the mere sight of it could give an entire army the courage of a griffin.'

'Legend has it,' continued Veirt, 'that at Morntau, the daemon Valnir shattered the hammer of Lord Daegen Kelgoth and pierced his heart with a sword of flame. But with his dying breath, Kelgoth snatched up the Griffin's Wing, his family's sacred banner, and plunged the halberd on which it was mounted into the daemon's mouth, slaying it. Kelgoth died as well, but the day was saved and his name has inspired generations to valour.'

'Never heard of him either,' said Hals.

'I don't remember hearing that the banner was lost,' said Reiner, who vaguely recalled the legend from his tutor's lessons. 'I thought it was destroyed.'

'It was neither lost nor destroyed,' said Lady Magda brusquely. 'It was hidden away. Returned to the tomb of the hero who wielded it. For its power was too strong a temptation to ambitious men, who used it against their fellows rather than evil.'

Reiner raised an eyebrow. 'And you've noticed a change for the better in man's nature of late?'

'Hardly,' said Lady Magda. 'But desperate times require desperate measures. When we bring it to him, Baron Albrecht will use the Bane to instil in his troops the courage to turn back the Chaos tide and save these mountains from the foul clutches of Chaos.' She glared around at them all. 'Now may we begin the search?'

The men nodded and turned toward the crypts.

'The banner is described as pure white,' called Veirt as they spread out. 'With a griffin rampant emblazoned upon it in gold and silver thread, flanked by the hammer and the chalice and crowned with the jewelled circlet of the Lords of Kelgoth.'

'If you find it,' added Lady Magda, 'do not touch it, but call to me. It is too powerful and dangerous for the uninitiated to hold.'

The men began peeking into the crypts. Those of Shallyan martyrs were plain, with simple coffins and pious verse engraved on the walls. The crypts of heroes were more elaborate, with sarcophagi carved into the likenesses of their occupants and frescos of battle scenes painted on the walls.

Reiner and Franz investigated an arch in the back wall. Reiner raised his torch. A crowned 'K' was carved over the lintel.

He smirked. 'Promising.'

They stepped inside. The dust was so thick that it was difficult to make out the episodes of heroism depicted on the walls. A sarcophagus sat on a granite pedestal in the centre of the narrow room, but an old pike was propped against it, and it was draped with a filthy, dust-covered blanket, so it was hard to see what the hero beneath looked like.

'Pull that mess off and let's have a look at him,' said Reiner.

Franz pushed the pike aside and the blanket came with it, flopping to the floor in an eruption of dust. The boy yelped and jumped back, shaking his hand.

'What's the matter, lad?' asked Reiner.

'Something stuck me.' Franz sucked his palm. 'A splinter or something.' He looked at the stone casket, shaped like a knight in full plate armour, bare-headed, with long hair that flowed over the pedestal upon which he lay. 'Is it him, do you think?'

Reiner circled the stone knight. 'I see no banner.'

'You fools!' cried Lady Magda from the archway. 'You are stepping on it!'

Reiner looked down. His boots were on the dirty blanket. Magda hurried forward and pushed him off it. 'Step away! Step away, you imbeciles!' She stooped and snatched up the pike. A wince of pain twisted her face for an eyeblink as she raised it. The blanket came up too, and now Reiner could see that it was attached to the pike by a cross bar. He raised an eyebrow. It was a banner, but it couldn't possibly be the banner. In the shadowy crypt it was impossible to tell what colour it was, but it was certainly not white.

With shaking arms and clenched jaw, Lady Magda backed out of the crypt with the pike. Reiner and Franz followed her into the central chamber. Veirt and the others gathered around her as she shook the dust from the cloth, raising their torches to shine light on it.

'That can't be it,' said Veirt, frowning. 'It's all wrong.'

Reiner had to agree. The banner was dull red, emblazoned with a manticore rampant in black and dark green, flanked by a twisted sword and a skull, and crowned with a circlet of thorns. It made Reiner uneasy to look at it. He felt as if he needed to wash.

'It is,' insisted Magda. 'Look again.'

Veirt held his torch closer and the men leaned in. Reiner forced himself to examine it. Close up, he could see that the brown-red of the banner was dried blood, and that the black and green of the manticore, as well as the skull, sword and thorns, were clumps of crusted blood and mould and hairy mildew. Buried beneath this filth and gore Reiner could make out the faint raised outlines of the original design: the embroidered griffin, flanked by the hammer and chalice, and crowned by the circlet Veirt had described. The broken blade of the halberd was caked in dried blood which had run halfway down the haft.

Veirt recoiled in disgust. 'It has been tainted. The blood of the daemon has corrupted it. We should burn it.'

'Nonsense,' said Lady Magda. 'It only needs cleaning. Come, we must return to Baron Albrecht. There is no time to be lost.'

'But, lady, 'tis profane,' protested Veirt. 'Sigmar knows what would happen if an army marched under this... this foulness.'

'What does a common foot soldier know of such things?' Lady Magda retorted. 'You may have won a commission, captain, but you are still an unlearned peasant. Now do as Baron Albrecht commanded you to and accompany me back to Smallhof.'

Veirt's jaw set. His fists clenched at his sides. Reiner could see that there was a war raging within him between his duty and his instinct. At last his shoulders slumped. He hung his head. 'Forgive me, lady. But I cannot. I am indeed the peasant you name me, but I have fought the hordes and their evil sorceries for nearly as many years as you have lived, and I've learned that once touched by Chaos, a thing can never be truly cleaned.' He shifted uncomfortably. 'Now please give me the banner. We will burn it in the garden.'

'Dare you order me?' said Lady Magda, haughtily. 'Without the banner, the battle for Nordbergbruche may be lost. Will you face Baron Albrecht and tell him that, because of a feeling, you destroyed that which would have assured him victory?'

Reiner stared at her. Though no physical transformation had occurred, Lady Magda had changed. Gone was the quiet, stern holy woman. In her place stood some high priestess of old, eyes blazing with righteous wrath. She looked wild, powerful and dangerous, and as unsettled as he was by her sudden sinister metamorphosis, he also found her uncomfortably attractive. Her body, under her habit, which he had thought a touch overstuffed, suddenly looked voluptuous and wanton. She looked like she was used to getting her way and taking what she wanted, and Reiner had always had a weakness for that sort of woman.

'Lady,' said Veirt quietly. 'I am well aware of Baron Albrecht's plans, having helped form them, but no good could come from any venture undertaken under this debased banner. I will destroy it and accept what punishment he sees fit to mete out.'

'You dirty ranker,' burst out Erich. 'What about us? We face death if we fail in this mission. You condemn us to die for your backward superstitions.'

Veirt glared at him. 'Would you rather hundreds, maybe thousands, of your comrades died if we succeed?'

'We only have your word for it that anything would happen. Your word against the lady's.'

Reiner raised an eyebrow at this. If Erich couldn't feel the blood-soaked banner's evil influence he must have a head of solid granite.

Veirt ignored the novice knight and held out a hand to the sister. 'Give me the banner, lady. I beg you.'

'I will not,' she said, drawing back.

'Then I'm afraid I must take it from you.'

'Touch her at your peril!' shouted Erich.

As the lancer struggled to draw his sword, Veirt grabbed the haft of the banner and tried to tug it from Lady Magda's grasp, but with an angry cry, she shoved at his chest with her fingers.

Veirt stood a head and a half taller than the woman and must have been double her weight, but at her touch he stumbled back, gasping, and sat down heavily on the stone floor. To Reiner it appeared that the old warrior had tripped over something. Lady Magda had hardly touched him, and even with all her strength he doubted she could have budged him an inch.

Reiner and the others gaped at Veirt, who sat on the floor, clutching his chest and sucking air.

Hals knelt. 'Captain, are you hurt? Has the witch hexed you?'

Lady Magda raised the banner. Reiner could feel it behind him like a great eye watching over his shoulder. It felt as if it was pulling at him, forcing him to turn and face it.

'Leave him be,' said the woman. 'He has disobeyed the command of his lord. He is a traitor to Baron Albrecht and the entire Empire. From now on you will take your orders from me.' She pointed to Veirt. 'Now slay this traitor and escort me back to Smallhof.'

Reiner moaned. He had come to like the grizzled old bear and knew he was in the right, but orders were orders. Lady Magda was in command now. And it was for the good of the Empire. He drew his sword as the others were doing and turned to face Veirt.

'Just... just a minute... lassie,' said Pavel. It sounded as if he was pushing each word out through his teeth with his tongue. 'Baron Albrecht... put us under... command of Captain... Veirt. And until... he says otherwise... I take my orders... from him.'

Reiner paused in raising his sword and looked at the one-eyed pikeman. The ranker's brow was beaded in sweat and his arm shook as he forced his dagger to stay at his side.

'You will obey me!' cried Lady Magda. 'I am your leader now.'

Now Hals shook his head, less like he was disagreeing, and more like a bull trying to shake off flies. 'Sorry lass,' he said, straining to speak. 'I... don't think y've... got a... commission.'

Reiner frowned, trying to focus on what Pavel and Hals were saying. It was what he felt himself, so why was he still raising his sword to kill Veirt? Why was he, who had never followed an order in his life without making sure it was in his own best interest, blindly obeying a woman who had no official authority over him at all? He might have a weakness for commanding women, but he was no love-struck pup either. He hadn't let his little head rule his big head for years. What was causing him to act like a flagellant following a firebrand priest?

The banner. It had to be. Though the daemon's blood had corrupted it, it still gave its bearer a supernatural aura of authority, a presence so commanding that it could bend men's will and make them do whatever he - or in this case she - ordered, no matter how much it went against their natural inclinations.

Reiner tried to lower his sword, but to his chagrin, even knowing that he was being manipulated, he found it hard to fight the banner's power. It took every iota of will to force his arm down. The feelings of pride and patriotism that so rarely moved him, that he sneered at in the stiff-necked knights and mindless boobs who thought the Empire wasn't just the centre of the world, but the world entire, were welling up in him and making him want to kill. He wanted to strike down Veirt for the glory of the Empire. He wanted to slay all that questioned Lady Magda or doubted her motives. He wanted to...

'No!' Reiner slapped his own face, hard. The pain broke the banner's spell, only for a moment, but it was enough. He made eye contact with Hals and Pavel and was strengthened by their rage. Beyond them, the others were frozen in tortured poses, all fighting the urge to kill Veirt. Little Franz stood shaking, his short sword frozen over his head. There were tears in his eyes. Reiner shook the boy's shoulder.

'Fight it, lad.'

But Franz remained frozen.

'I won't!'

The bellow made Reiner turn. Ulf, his face twisted with rage, flung his upraised maul across the room. It knocked a suit of armour to the floor with a clanging clatter. Franz jerked at the noise like a waking sleeper.

Feeling stronger now, Reiner turned to Lady Magda. 'We won't follow you. You aren't our captain.'

'Then you are traitors,' said Erich, drawing his sword and stepping in front of the holy woman.

'You're the traitor,' growled Hals, unsheathing his short sword. Pavel pulled a dagger.

'The captain,' said Franz. 'He's bleeding.'

'What?' Reiner turned.

Veirt lay flat on his back. Blood was seeping from under his breastplate.

'Captain?' said Reiner, stepping forward.

He heard running feet behind him and spun back around. Lady Magda was racing, with very un-nunlike haste, for the secret door, the banner in her hands.

'Stop her!' called Reiner.

Only Franz, Hals and Pavel had recovered enough to respond. They started forward with Reiner, but Erich jumped in front of them, brandishing his sword.

'You'll go through me first,' he said.

Franz tried to dart around him, but Erich kicked the boy in the hip and sent him sprawling into the clutter of treasures. Pavel and Hals shifted left and right, feinting with their daggers. Reiner grunted, annoyed. Was there ever a more thick-headed knight? He picked up a book from a chest and threw it at Erich's head. The knight blocked it easily, but the century of dust that covered it exploded in his face and he doubled up, choking and cursing. Reiner shouldered him to the floor and ran with Pavel and Hals for the steps.

Lady Magda stood just outside the chamber, mumbling and motioning with her free hand.

Dread dragged at Reiner's guts. She was closing the crypt door. She meant to trap them in there forever, like the poor dead nuns. He bellowed over his shoulder. 'Franz! Ostini! Cut her down.'

It was too late. Before the boy or the mercenary could ready their weapons, the door began to grind closed and Lady Magda ran away toward the spiral stair.

Reiner cursed and redoubled his speed, bounding up the stairs three at a time. Hals and Pavel were right behind him. They put their shoulders to the closing door and pushed, but their combined weight had no effect. Their boots skidded back through a gravel of crushed bone and marble.

'Urquart!' called Reiner. 'Bring a chest! Something big and bound in iron.'

Gustaf, Franz and Giano reached the door and pushed as well. The six of them slowed it a little, but it continued to close. Reiner looked over his shoulder. Ulf was waddling forward carrying a heavy oaken chest, his face beet red with strain.

'Hurry, you great ox!' Reiner looked to Franz, who was pushing mightily, but pointlessly. 'Leave off, lad. Go after her. Warn Oskar. Tell him to gun her down.'

'Aye,' said the boy, and dashed through the narrowing gap. But almost instantly Erich ran out after him, sword in hand.

'Deserter!' shouted Reiner after the lancer. 'Will you leave us to die?' He cursed. 'He'll kill the boy.'

'Go on. Catch him up,' said Pavel. 'We'll hold this. Don't you worry.'

Reiner looked back. Ulf was humping the chest up the broad stairs, one agonising step at a time. He bit his lip. 'You'd better.'

Reiner ran through the closing door and down the passage to the spiral stair, expecting at any moment to trip over Franz's body. He stumbled up the uneven, wedge-shaped steps and burst out into the ruined chapel.

Lady Magda, surprisingly, was still in sight. She had only just reached the great arched door that led to the garden. Must have had some trouble getting the unwieldy standard up the twisting stairs, thought Reiner.

In the centre of the chapel Erich had caught up to Franz, who was dodging and ducking to avoid the knight's slashing sword, and shouting at the top of his voice. 'Oskar! Stop her! Stop the lady!'

Reiner ran for Erich, drawing his sabre. 'Coward!' he cried. 'Picking on boys again? Face me if you want a fight.'

Erich looked up, but unfortunately so did Franz, and Erich, trained in close combat, took advantage. His blade caught the boy a glancing blow on the top of the head and he hit the floor in a jumble of limbs.

Reiner cursed and slashed at the blond knight, but kept running for the door, yelling as Franz had. 'Oskar! Stop her!'

Erich caught up to him in the huge open doorway, stabbing at his back. Reiner squirmed to the side and fell across one of the massive bronze doors that lay twisted on the ground. He rolled aside as Erich's greatsword slashed down at him, then hacked at the knight's knees.

Erich leapt back and Reiner jumped up. They squared off, each too wary of the other to run after the sister.

Oskar was trotting across the garden from his post at the plaza stairs, long gun in his hands. Lady Magda was running right for him.

'Oskar!' Reiner called. 'Stop her! Gun her down!'

'Hey?' said the artilleryman, confused.

'Stop her! She's betrayed us all.'

Oskar looked at the oncoming woman, a puzzled frown on his face. 'Lady?'

The holy woman raised the banner and he stepped back, confusion becoming fear as he stared at it.

'Back away!' she cried. 'Bow down!'

Oskar shied away, throwing up his arms to shield his face from the banner. She swung it at him, knocking him flat, then disappeared down the steps.

Reiner cursed and moved to go after her, but Erich stepped in his way. 'No, traitor,' he said. 'You will not pass me again.'

Reiner grunted angrily. Even if he could beat the knight, which was an open question, it would take too long. Lady Magda would be on horseback and away long before the fight was over. With a sigh, Reiner shrugged and backed away. 'Very well. You win.'

He turned and ran back into the chapel. Franz was picking himself off the floor, clutching his bleeding head. 'Did she get away?' he asked.

'We'll get her later,' muttered Reiner, helping the boy stand. 'No woman can outpace me on horseback. Come on. Down to the vault.'

Erich came through the door. 'Where are you going? Are you afraid to face me?'

Reiner sheathed his sword. 'I am going to try to save my companions. The men you left to die.'

'They are traitors.'

'They didn't turn on their captain.'

Reiner and Franz hurried down the stairs.

'You all right?' asked Reiner, looking at the gash in Franz's scalp.

'It'll heal.'

A loud metallic groaning echoed around them as they exited the stairs. They raced for the crypt. Ulf had placed the iron-bound chest between the massive door and the wall, stopping it from closing, but it was slowly being crushed, the iron bands bending and the wood cracking.

Ulf and Gustaf stood outside the door, taking Veirt in their arms as Pavel and Hals, still inside, handed the stricken captain out to them. 'Bring him upstairs,' said Gustaf. 'I'll need more light.'

Pavel, Hals and Giano climbed out over the splintering chest and joined them. Reiner heard footsteps coming down the hall and looked back.

Erich approached, sheathing his sword. 'Does he live?'

'As if you care,' said Reiner.

'I do care,' said the knight. 'He is a good man. Just confused in his thinking.' He seemed calmer, almost contrite.

'Stand aside,' said Gustaf, and he started for the spiral stair with Ulf behind him, carrying Captain Veirt. The rest followed.

Erich brought up the rear, behind Reiner. 'I have no wish to fight fellow soldiers of the Empire, but you must see that you are in the wrong.'

Reiner rolled his eyes. Halfway up the stairs there was a horrendous crack from below and a deep echoing boom as the crypt door at last crushed the chest and slammed shut. It gave Reiner the shivers.

As the party entered the chapel they heard a faint high screaming, inhuman and frightened.

'Lady Magda,' said Erich, alarmed. He drew his sword and hurried for the door.

'If that's the lady,' said Reiner. 'I'm a Kossar.'

He followed Erich out of the chapel and ran with him through the garden, then across the plaza to the forecourt. The screaming, which had trailed away into whistling sighs of pain, was further on. Erich and Reiner paused at the broken gates, then stepped out of the convent cautiously, looking all around. The horrible sound was coming from the hidden ravine where they had tethered the horses. They crept forward.

As they edged around the entrance to the ravine, Reiner jerked back, shocked. There was a lot of blood. The mule and the horses had been ripped to pieces, as if by some giant beast. Limbs and torsos were strewn about. One or two horses were still alive, lying on their sides with their entrails spilling out, weakly lifting their heads and wailing in animal agony.

'The lady.' gasped Erich. 'Some horror has slain her and all the horses.'

'Don't bet on it.' said Reiner. 'Her palfrey's missing.'

He turned and ran for the cliff face. Erich followed. 'Where are you going? We must find her.'

'That's what I'm doing.'

Reiner looked out over the cliff. The winding path that had brought them up to the convent zig-zagged away below him. Rounding one of its switchbacks was a figure on a palfrey, hair flying in the wind, and deep red banner fluttering above her.

Reiner groaned. 'Sigmar curse all sisters of Shallya.'

SEVEN

The Right Thing To Do

When Reiner and Erich returned to the convent garden, they found the others clustered around Veirt, whom Ulf had laid upon a stone bench. Gustaf had taken the captain's breast-and-back off and was kneeling over him, unbuckling his leather jerkin, which was soaked in blood.

'What was it?' asked Franz, looking up at Reiner.

'Some terrible beast has slain all the horses,' said Erich. 'Fortunately, Lady Magda has escaped unharmed with the banner.'

'Or,' said Reiner dryly, 'Lady Magda has slaughtered all the horses so we can't follow her, and escaped with the banner.'

Erich glared at him. 'Are you mad? Whatever killed the horses ripped them limb from limb. Lady Magda could never do that.'

'Don't be so sure,' said Gustaf. 'Look here.' He pulled open Veirt's jerkin to reveal his chest. The men hissed in surprise. A tremor of superstitious fear shivered through Reiner for, though Veirt's back-and-breast was without a dent or scratch, and his jerkin unmarked, deep gashes had opened his chest to the bone and shattered his ribs. It looked like some monstrous animal with enormous claws had mauled him. The wound bubbled with each of Veirt's shallow trembling breaths. Franz choked and looked away.

'Surely you can't be suggesting that Lady Magda did this?' said Erich as Gustaf began determining the extent of the damage.

'She barely touched him. This looks like the work of a... mountain lion, or a...'

'A manticore!' said Hals with superstitious awe. 'Like the one on the banner.'

'Yes,' said Erich. 'A manticore.' Then, 'No! If you are suggesting...'

Reiner raised an eyebrow at Hals. 'That she killed the horses and cut down the captain with unnatural strength given her by the banner? I'd believe that before a mountain lion.'

Erich's face was turning red. 'And... and if she did, can you blame her? Veirt turned against her. You all did. You were sworn to bring her here, protect her, and return with her and the banner to Baron Valdenheim, and instead, the moment she finds what we came for, you, a motley collection of peasants and gallows trash, decide you know more of the lore of Shallya and the Empire than a noble lady of learning. You doubt her word, and when Veirt lays hands on her, do you jump to her defence? No. You...'

A wet gasp returned their attention to Veirt. With a hacking cough that sprayed blood across Gustaf's knees, the captain's eyes opened. He looked around at them all without any sign of recognition, then saw his chest. His eyes focused. 'Damn the woman. And damn Albrecht too, for listening...'

Reiner knelt beside him. 'What are you trying to say, captain?'

Veirt turned glazed eyes to him. He seemed to be looking at him from a far shore. 'Count... Manfred. Tell him his brother...' He coughed again, spraying Reiner with red spittle, then forced another word out. 'Tre... tre... treachery!' Blood welled up from his mouth like a spring. His head sank back until it touched the marble bench, but his eyes never closed.

The men stared down at him for a long moment, as if unable to comprehend what they were seeing. Pavel and Hals made the sign of the hammer and touched their hearts. Only Gustaf seemed unmoved, cleaning and putting away his knives and supplies like a scribe tidying his desk at the end of his day.

At last Ulf broke the silence. 'So, what now?' he asked.

They all exchanged wary glances. It was a simple question, but a dangerous one. Whatdid they do?

More importantly, Reiner wondered, what didhe do. Where did self-interest lie? What course of action was most likely to keep his skin intact? Did he go back to Albrecht? Did he follow Vein's last order and look for Albrecht's brother, the count? Did he try to hunt down Lady Magda and stop her? Did he go it alone? Or did he stick with his newfound companions?

'We must follow our duty, of course.' said Erich. 'We must do our best to catch up with Lady Magda and escort her back to Baron Valdenheim as we were ordered to do.'

'Yer off your head, jagger.' said Hals. 'She'd do for us in an eye-blink. The captain's dead. She got her precious banner. I say our job's done, and there ain't nothing waiting for us but the hangman's noose when we get back. I say we go our separate ways and every man for himself.'

There were many nods and grunts of assent from the others.

'Suits me.' said Gustaf.

But Erich was having none of it. 'Do you abandon your duty so easily? You pledged to see this mission through. You cannot just walk away with it half done.'

Hals pulled off his right glove and showed Erich the brand - still red - on the back of his hand. 'I made no pledge. I submitted to blackmail is all. I'm off.' He turned to Pavel. 'What you think, boyo? Marienburg? I hear they pay honest gold for steady pikes.'

'Sounds as good a place as any.' said Pavel.

'In Tilea is summer now.' Giano said wistfully.

'They'd never find me in Nuln.' Gustaf muttered under his breath.

'I've relatives in Kislev.' said Ulf. 'Somewhere.'

Reiner shook his head, coming to a decision at last. 'You're making a mistake, lads. I think we're better off sticking together.' Or rather, he thought to himself, I'm better off if all of you protect me.

The others turned to him.

Erich smiled, smug. 'Come to your senses, have you, Hetzau?'

'This is wild country.' said Reiner, ignoring him. 'Raiders everywhere, wild beasts, unnatural things. I don't fancy going it alone. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't last a night. Until we're back in civilised lands, I think we need each other.'

'Makes sense.' said Hals.

'As to where we go.' continued Reiner, 'that's another question. I am inclined to believe Captain Veirt was right in thinking that the banner is tainted. I think...'

'You have no proof of that.' said Erich.

Reiner paid him no mind. 'Whether or not Lady Magda knew so before we found it, she certainly didn't think twice about using it once she knew its true nature.' He scratched his head. 'The real question is, what will Baron Valdenheim do with it once she brings it to him? Will he burn it as any sane man would, or will he let her convince him to use it to further his ambitions?'

'What makes you think she'll bring the banner to Valdenheim at all?' asked Franz. 'She might head straight north and deliver it into the hands of some daemon-worshipping chieftain.'

Reiner shook his head. 'That woman owes fealty to no one. She worships none but herself. I saw it in her eyes. She wants power in the realms of men, not in some deathless otherworld. Did you not see Albrecht with her when we started this journey? The way he looked at her. He may rule his army with an iron fist, but she has him wrapped around her little finger. Whatever his ambitions are, you can be sure they were hers first, and my guess is that Lady Magda's ambition is to be the wife of Baron Albrecht Valdenheim, and for Baron Albrecht Valdenheim to become Count Albrecht Valdenheim, and that she means to use the banner to accomplish these things.'

Ulf frowned. 'But Albrecht's older brother is already Count Vald... Oh. Oh, I see.'

'This is the merest conjecture.' complained Erich. 'You build castles out of air. Even if Lady Magda intends to use the banner for some unjust purpose, which I don't for a second suggest is the truth, you have no evidence that Baron Albrecht has any malicious intent.'

'Don't I?' asked Reiner. 'Then tell me this. If this banner is so important, and is meant to be used in the defence of the Empire, why didn't Albrecht send a battalion of pike and a squadron of lancers to accompany Lady Magda here? Why didn't he send handgunners and greatswords instead of a tiny band of condemned men?' Reiner smirked. 'Because he didn't want anyone to know what he was about. Because he intends to murder us all when we complete the mission in order to ensure our silence.'

'You speak treason, sir,' said Erich.

'Fluently,' said Reiner. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. 'My fear is, that if Baron Albrecht and Lady Magda suspect we live, and that we know what they intend, it will not matter how far we run, or where we hide. They will hunt us down and kill us wherever we go. And with the hammer brands on our hands, we will be that much easier to find. We will never be safe.'

'There's still Marienburg,' said Hals. 'Like I said before. And Tilea, and the Border Princes. The hammer brand means nothing there.'

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'That's true. But how long would it be before you were longing for home? Before you were homesick for Hochland ale and Carolsburg sausages? How long before you wanted to hear your mother's voice?'

'That's all lost to us, y'torturer,' said Hals bitterly. 'We're branded men.'

'Perhaps not,' said Reiner. 'There is one way I can see that we might get out of this with our skins and maybe even win the reward that was promised us.'

Giano's ears perked up at that. 'And how is this?'

Reiner shrugged. 'Follow Veirt's last order and warn Count Valdenheim of his brother's intrigue.'

There was a murmur of approval at this, but Hals laughed. 'And what makes you think Count Manfred is going to take the word of a bunch of murderers and deserters - for you know that's what they'll name us - over that of his brother and a reverend priestess of Shallya? What if he has us killed? Or throws us back into the brig?'

The others nodded, and turned to Reiner.

'Aye,' he sighed. 'There is that. And I've no answer for you. But there must be one honourable count in the Empire?'

'You'd know better than us, my lord,' sneered Pavel.

'It's a risk, I'll warrant you, but what's the alternative? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in foreign lands? Or living the life of an outlaw here, hiding your hands and skulking from place to place, with the law of the Empire always sniffing at your heels like a wolfhound? Do you want to never go home again? I say Manfred is the best of a lot of bad choices.' 'Not to mention that it's the right thing to do.' said Franz.

Reiner smirked. Hals and Pavel burst out laughing. Giano giggled.

Hals wiped his eyes, 'Oh laddie, you shame us all.'

Reiner looked around. 'So are we decided? Do we seek out Manfred?'

The men answered with 'Ayes' and grunts of approval, but Erich, who had been standing with his arms crossed at the edge of the circle at last spoke up.

'No, we are not decided.' he said. 'You've a smooth tongue, Hetzau, but I remain unconvinced. Theright thing to do...' He shot a withering glance at Franz, 'Is to follow the orders we were given by Baron Albrecht and complete the mission. And as the ranking officer now that Veirt is dead, that is exactly what I command you to do.'

Pavel and Hals laughed again, and the rest glared at the lancer mutinously. Reiner groaned. Things would move much more smoothly without this parade-ground popinjay gumming up the works, but he was the best sword among them, and if Reiner wanted to get back to civilisation he would need around him all the swords they had. 'The Empire's authority doesn't mean much this far from Altdorf, von Eisenberg. We could kill you where you stand and no one would ever know, but if you want to play at rank, I'm not entirely sure you outrank me.'

'I am a novitiate knight of the Order of the Sceptre!' said Erich, drawing himself up.

'Aye.' drawled Reiner. 'Doesn't that mean that you polish the boots and fetch the beer?'

The men laughed.

Erich was turning red. 'I was to win my commission after my first battle!'

Reiner gaped in mock surprise. 'So you've yet to blood your lance? And you want to lead us? Laddie, my father may not have had the coin to buy me a position in an order, but at least I've seen battle. I was wounded at Kiirstad.'

Erich sputtered, but it was a charge he couldn't answer.

Reiner shrugged. 'My preference is that we have no leader. We're all worldly men - most of us anyway. Why don't we put the decision to a vote? All who want to return to Baron Valdenheim, step left, all who want to seek out and warn his brother the count, step right.'

'Vote?' bellowed Erich before anyone could move. 'There is no voting in the army. One does as one's commander orders. This is not the council of elector counts.' He glared at Reiner. 'If you mean to flout my authority in this way, then we will decide who commands here in the proper way. We will settle the matter on the field of honour.'

And with that he pulled off his left glove and threw it at Reiner's feet.

EIGHT

They Still Come

Reiner stared at the glove with his stomach sinking. The last thing he wanted to do was fight Erich. Reiner had always been an indifferent blade, his strong suits in the area of martial endeavours being riding and shooting. He knew Erich was the better man by far. And yet fight him he must.

Though the temptation to just kill the knight when his back was turned was almost overwhelming, he would be a fool to do it. In the first place, he needed Erich's sword for the dangerous journey ahead. In the second, for all his talk of not wanting to be leader, Reiner thought himself the coolest, wisest head among the motley band, and wanted the others to listen to him and do as he suggested. Though some of them might at first applaud him for shooting Erich in the back, he knew that the more they thought about it, the less they would trust him, and the more they would be worried that they might be next.

No, if he wanted to get home in one piece he needed all the men he had, and if he wanted them to guard his back he needed their trust. He would have to fight Erich and, sadly, fight him cleanly. Reiner was certain that the traditions of honour were so deeply entrenched in Erich that if Reiner won the duel fairly Erich would reluctantly obey its stipulations and agree to be led by him. But if Reiner cheated, Erich would refuse to be bound by the outcome. The only difficulty was that the odds of Reiner winning the fight without cheating were slim to none.

Of course if Reiner lost, and Erich commanded them to return to Albrecht, then something else might be done, but he would worry about that if it happened.

He looked up at Erich. 'To first blood?'

Erich sneered. 'If that is all you are prepared to risk.'

'I will need your blade when I win. If you had any sense you would realise that you will need mine if you become leader.'

Erich flushed, embarrassed not to have thought of it on his own. 'And if I win you will submit to my command?'

Reiner nodded. 'I will. As will you if I win, yes?'

Erich hesitated unhappily, then nodded. 'You have my word.'

'Very well.' Reiner pulled his cavalry sabre and scabbard from his belt. 'I'm afraid I cannot match the length of your longsword, so you will have to match mine. Would you care to select the ground?'

'Fine.'

After a hasty colloquy they determined that Oskar's sword matched Reiner's in length, and Erich took a few practice lunges with it to get the feel. The novitiate knight felt it would be unseemly to conduct an affair of honour in a convent, so they marked out the lists just outside the convent's gates. Here also they laid to rest the body of Veirt, for it didn't feel right to leave him unburied among the horrors and desecrations of the convent garden. The ground was rocky and they had nothing to dig with so instead they covered him with loose rocks - though not before Reiner had emptied his pockets of all that was useful: gold crowns, a whetstone, a compass, charms and fetishes to ward off harm and bring luck. Finally, much to Pavel's disappointment, Reiner posted him as lookout, telling him to keep his one eye on the paths leading to and away from the convent.

At last they were ready. Reiner swallowed queasily as the scent of the blood of the butchered horses in the hidden canyon reached his nose. It was too reminiscent of a slaughterhouse for his peace of mind at this particular moment. He rolled his shoulders and circled his arms to warm up, all the while watching Erich doing the same on the opposite side of the ground. Gustaf waited to one side with his field kit at the ready, and Giano, whose people were credited with making the practice of duelling into the ceremony it had become, stood in the centre ready to act as master of the lists. The rest of the men, Pavel, Hals, Oskar, Ulf and Franz, stood around the edges of the ground, their faces a mixture of anxiety and eagerness.

'Gentlemen, please to come to centre?' asked Giano.

Erich strode forward confidently, sword in hand and stripped to the waist despite the freezing wind. A look at the blond knight's broad chest and chiselled midsection made Reiner glad he'd kept his shirt on. The comparison would have done nothing for his morale. He stepped to Giano with a tremor in his knees he hoped no one else could detect.

Giano bowed formally to both of them. 'Weapons and ground alright by both gentlemen? Then we beginning. To the first bleeding, hey? If one gentleman can no continue, the contest go to the man who still stand. If no can see who strike first blood, then fight one more, hey?'

'Fine,' said Erich, sneering down his nose at Reiner.

'Yes,' said Reiner, looking at his boots.

'Excellent. Gentlemen please to stand at ends of blades.'

Reiner and Erich stepped back and extended their arms and swords. Giano held them until their sword tips touched. 'Gentlemen are ready?'

Erich and Reiner nodded.

'Very good.' Giano let go of the tips of the sabres and leapt back. 'Then begin!'

Reiner and Erich dropped into guard and began to circle, eyeing each other alertly. Reiner tried desperately to remember all the lessons he had ignored on those interminable afternoons with his father's master of the fence, when he would rather have been in the hayloft, learning a different sort of lunge and thrust from his second cousin Marina. Was he supposed to look into Erich's eyes to watch for what he intended next, or was it best to focus on his chest? He couldn't recall. He was so out of practice. All his life he had been able to talk his way out of fights, and when he hadn't, when some angry rustic had caught him with weighted dice or an extra ace in his hand, he had fought dirty, throwing furniture, beer, sand, whatever came to hand. He had no experience fighting within a set of rules.

Erich lunged forward, executing a lightning thrust. Reiner parried, but much too wide. Erich's blade dipped easily under his and slid directly for his heart. Only an undignified backwards hop saved Reiner from being cut to the bone.

'Easy, sir,' gasped Reiner. 'Do you mean to mark me or kill me?'

'My apologies,' said Erich, looking not one whit apologetic. 'I expected more resistance.'

Reiner danced back, sweating, as Erich advanced gracefully, pressing his advantage. Reiner parried and blocked like mad, stopping Erich's blade mere inches from his face and chest time and again. There was no question of him riposting. He was too busy defending. If he tried an attack, Erich would slip past his guard and it would be over. He had to hope Erich would make some error, or lose his balance. It didn't seem likely.

As he dodged this way and that, the faces of the men who surrounded them flashed by: Hals, leaning on his spear and watching with grim intensity, Ulf, his brow furrowed, Giano, eyes shining, Franz with his fingers over his mouth. The boy seemed almost more worried than Reiner himself.

Erich slashed again. Reiner stopped the blow, but it was so strong it drove his own blade back into his shoulder. As he jumped back Reiner felt his arm. No blood.

'Nearly had you there,' said Erich, grinning.

'Nearly.'

Curse the man, thought Reiner. The lancer was so calm, so sure of himself. He had yet to break a sweat, while Reiner was perspiring so much the hilt of his sabre was twisting in his hand.

Erich came in again, jabbing and slashing. His blade seemed to be everywhere at once. Reiner could see it as little more than a blur. He backed away in a panic and his boot heel caught on a lip of rock. He started to fall and threw out his sword arm to try to regain his footing.

Even a lesser swordsman than Erich might have taken advantage of such an opening. Erich lunged like a striking cat, blade arrowing straight toward Reiner's chest. There was no way Reiner could bring his sword to guard in time to stop it.

But then suddenly Erich was tripping himself, his sword arm flailing. Reiner watched amazed, while time seemed to slow to a crawl and his sword swung forward just as Erich's arm fell into its path. It was the slightest touch. A scratch from a rose thorn, and yet there was blood - a line on Erich's arm, a smear on Reiner's blade.

Erich caught himself and jerked back again instantly, but not to press his attack. He spun to point his sabre accusingly at Hals. 'You tripped me, you vermin! You stuck out your spear and tripped me.'

'I didn't, my lord!' said Hals, his face as innocent as a newborn's. 'You tripped over it, certain. But I never moved it.'

'Liar!' Erich turned back to Reiner. 'It doesn't count. He tripped me. You saw him.'

'I'm afraid I didn't,' said Reiner truthfully. 'I was too busy tripping myself.'

Erich's eyes narrowed. 'Wait a moment. I see what it is. You're in collusion, the two of you. You knew you couldn't beat me fairly, so you conspired to cheat.'

'Not at all,' said Reiner. 'At least I didn't. Whether Hals tripped you on purpose you'll have to take up with him.'

'I swear, my lord,' said Hals. 'By Sigmar, I swear. I was leaning on my spear. I didn't move it.'

Erich snorted derisively. 'We'll have to go again.' He motioned to Giano brusquely. 'Come, Tilean. Do the necessary.'

'Sir,' said Reiner. 'Youare bleeding.'

'It wasn't a fair touch,' snapped Erich. 'I told you. The man tripped me.'

'I have only your word for it.'

'Over that of a peasant. Surely there can be no question.' Erich snatched up his shirt and pulled it on over his steaming chest.

Reiner turned to the others. 'Did any of you see? Did Hals trip him?'

They all shook their heads.

He turned to Giano. 'Master of the lists?'

Giano shrugged. 'I see nothing. The contest go to Master Hetzau.'

Erich threw up his hands. 'This is preposterous! You're all in on it! You never intended for it to be a fair contest.' He turned to Reiner. 'You are a cheat, sir. The leader of a band of cheats.'

Reiner clenched his fists, affronted. The one time in his life that he had fought a duel cleanly, and he was accused of cheating anyway. Of course he had little doubt that Hals had tripped Erich, but for once he'd truly had nothing to do with it. He put the blame squarely on Erich's shoulders. If the fellow hadn't made himself so disliked by one and all he would have easily won the day. 'I'm sorry, old man,' he said to Erich, 'But you agreed to abide by the outcome of the fight, and if you didn't trust the impartiality of the master of the lists you should have said something before we began.'

'This is intolerable!' Erich cried. 'I refuse to submit! We must go again! We must...'

'Hoy!' came a shout from the far end of the ledge.

They all turned. Pavel was running toward them, waving. 'Kurgan coming!' he called. 'A whole bloody column!'

Reiner and Erich cursed in unison and ran with the others for the cliff edge, their argument for the moment forgotten.

Pavel pointed down and to the right. 'There. See 'em?'

Reiner squinted into the frosty haze. Coming up the broad southern path, like a gigantic metal snake winding around the curves of the mountain, was a long train of Kurgan, their bronze helmets and steel spearpoints glinting in the late afternoon sun. They were led by a large squadron of barbaric horsemen, resplendent in outlandish armour and huge swords scabbarded over their shoulders. Huge hounds like the ones Reiner and the others had fought in the thorny wood paced alongside their mounted masters. There were also shackled slaves, shuffling in step under the cracking whips of overseers. Wagons loaded with plunder and provisions brought up the rear of the column. They had not yet reached the point where their path joined the narrow path Reiner and the others had climbed, but they were close. Too close.

'We'll never make it down in time,' said Hals.

'We'll have to hide somewhere,' said Erich.

'Yes, but where?' asked Reiner.

Franz frowned. 'In the convent? In the chapel?'

Reiner shook his head. 'What if they make camp there? We'd be trapped.'

'The hidden canyon?' suggested Oskar. 'Where we put the horses?'

'No, lad.' said Hals. 'All that fresh meat? Those hounds'll sniff it out in a second.'

'If their masters don't first.' Pavel said with a shiver.

'We'll have to go further up.' said Reiner. 'Further into the mountains.'

'Are you mad?' asked Erich. 'Run pell mell into unknown territory with an enemy at our back?'

'Have you another suggestion?'

'There would be no need for suggestions if we had gone after Lady Magda an hour ago as we should have.'

'He didn't ask for complaints, jagger.' muttered Hals.

Reiner turned away from the cliff and started for the box canyon. 'We'd best collect what we can from the packs, but don't carry too much. We may have occasion to run.'

The others followed after him. Erich sniffed, disgusted, but followed as well.

Stepping queasily amongst the scattered horse parts, the company salvaged what they could from the saddlebags, tied the contents up inside their back-and-breasts, and slung them over their shoulders. Pavel and Hals hung theirs off spears they took from the garden of horrors to replace the ones they had lost fighting the Kurgan warriors. As quickly as they could, they started up the wide path that rose from the convent's ledge and wound further into the mountains. The Chaos column was less than half a league behind them.

Reiner took some comfort from the fact that, because of the slaves' slow pace, the column was moving at half march. Reiner's companions would outdistance them easily, but he was less than heartened to see that on this path too were signs of heavy traffic. What if they met another force coming down and found themselves trapped in the middle? Speed wouldn't matter then.

It was less than an hour from nightfall. A cold wind bullied them along and blew high clouds across the lowering sun. The path was alternately bathed in red-gold sunshine or plunged into cold, purple shadows as the trail wound along steep cliffs and through tight defiles. Maddeningly, it didn't divide. Through all its twists and turns it remained a single line, with no branches or crossings, and though they found a few places where two men could hide, or even three or four, there was no place large enough to conceal them all, or far enough from the path that the hounds wouldn't scent them.

After they'd gone a few miles Reiner sent Giano back down the path to see if the Chaos troops had made camp at the convent. He returned just as the sun touched the horizon, mopping the sweat from his brow.

'They still come,' he said between breaths. 'Pass the convent. And more fast than we think. They push slaves hard.'

Reiner frowned. 'Are they gaining on us?'

'No, no, but best we keep moving, hey?'

The nine companions marched on into the dwindling twilight. Reiner was becoming nervous. The wind was getting colder, and the clouds thickening. The men were slowing with fatigue.He was slowing. It had been a long day, and they had all received some hard knocks in the fight with the Kurgan. Pavel, still not recovered from his fever, was leaning on Hals and sweating like he was in the desert. Ulf was limping. They needed to find a safe place off the path to make camp.

Reiner cursed Veirt for dying. The old bear would have found a way out of this mess in an eyeblink. If he hadn't died, the duel would never have happened. He would have put Erich in his place with a single glare and they would have been off down the mountain long before the Kurgan host came into view.

Though he put on a brave front for the men, Reiner was in a panic. He didn't know what he was doing. The only reason he had taken command was that following Erich would have led to disaster. Of course, he seemed to be leading them to disaster at a brisk trot himself.

Half an hour later, as the purple twilight was thickening into murky blue, the trail finally divided. It had been hugging a steep mountainside, but then widened into a broad, boulder-strewn shoulder that rose at its far end into a razor-backed ridge. The path split around this, the left way swinging wide and angling down the ridge's outer slope, the right rising up into the cleft 'twixt it and the mountain. To Reiner's annoyance, both were wide enough to accommodate a marching column. The men examined the ground of each in the dim half light.

'Plenty of hoofprints up this side,' called Hals.

'Here too.' said Oskar.

Reiner groaned. Why couldn't it be a simple decision? Why couldn't he say boldly, 'This is the one, lads. Clearly this is the path less travelled.' Now he had to guess, take an even-odds gamble. Henever made a wager at even odds. Gambling was for fools. Though laymen often called Ranald the god of gamblers, in reality, followers of the Trickster gambled as little as possible. Rigging the odds in one's favour was a holy duty, a sacrament. One never entered a game of chance without an edge of some kind: loaded dice, marked cards, an accomplice. Here there was no way to force an advantage. Here there was no mark to gull, no extra ace to palm. He had to roll clean dice with fate like some rustic peasant, and hope.

'What do you think, lads?' he asked. 'Which way looks more promising?'

'Both the same.' said Giano shrugging.

'This one might be a little sparse.' said Hals uncertainly. 'Then again it might not.'

'What if we wait at the fork?' said Franz. 'See which way they mean to go, then go the other.'

The company turned to stare at him. Reiner gaped. It was a good idea.

'But they'll see us.' said Oskar.

'No. No they won't.' said Reiner, heart pounding with newfound hope. 'They'll have torches by now. We'll stay dark, invisible. And the path splits early enough that we'll know which way they're heading long before they're upon us.' He patted Franz on the shoulder. 'Good thinking, lad.'

The boy beamed.

Reiner looked back down the trail. It was so dark now he could hardly see five yards. 'We'll sit right here. Wear your cloaks over your packs, and wrap your swords. We don't want any steel reflecting their torchlight. Might as well have a bite to eat while we wait.'

They huddled together at the blunt tip of the ridge, gnawing on nearly frozen bread and sipping from canteens they had to bang against rocks in order to break the skins of ice that stoppered them. Fast-moving clouds nearly filled the sky. The rising moons were only rarely visible. Finally, almost an hour after full dark, the Kurgan host arrived. The men heard them before they saw them, a faint rumble like a far-off avalanche that never stopped: the sound of boots and hooves on stone, chains dragging through gravel, the crack of whips and the guttural marching cadences of the raider infantry.

By the time the men put away their food and made ready to move, a dim orange glow began to rim the path where it curved around the mountain. The glow grew brighter and the rumble louder until at last the Kurgan column appeared around the bend. Three slaves on long leashes came first. They held aloft torches on tall poles that cast a baleful light upon the Kurgan horsemen that followed them. Reiner swallowed as he saw them. He heard Franz moan beside him.

Though it was difficult to judge scale at this distance, all of the mounted marauders looked enormous, larger even than the monstrous men they had faced in the convent, but in the centre of the first rank rode a veritable giant. Mounted on a barded warhorse that made the largest destrier Reiner had ever seen look like a pony, was a knight - if a daemon-worshipping northern vandal could be given so noble a title - in full plate armour, lacquered a deep blood red and chased with bronze accents. His head was entirely encased in an elaborate helmet, built to look like a dragons head. The resemblance was heightened by the two double-headed axes that rose from behind his massive shoulders like steel wings. Each must have been as tall as a man. The very sight of him turned Reiner's blood to water. The knight seemed to radiate fear like a stove radiates heat. Reiner wanted to run and hide, to curl up and weep.

His retinue was only less fearsome by comparison. Had the evil knight not been there, the marauders alone would have been quite enough to make Reiner quake in his boots. They were massive, muscular northmen, most in horned helmets and armour of ringmail, leather and the occasional gorget or breastplate. Some rode bare-chested, their sinewy arms and knotted torsos seemingly impervious to cold. But all had the same fell look. Their eyes were hooded and hidden. Not a glint of light reflected from them, not even those who wore no covering helmet, and they stared dead ahead, looking neither left nor right, though Reiner's skin crawled with the feeling that their awareness was examining every part of him like the beam of some glowing eye. Every fibre of his being told him to run.

'Wait for it, lads.' he whispered, as jauntily as he could manage. 'Wait for it.'

The horsemen continued pouring around the curve five abreast until more than a hundred rode behind the knight, then came foot soldiers, a ragged group who walked rather than marched into the valley.

'Look at 'em.' sneered Hals. 'Not one of 'em in step. No discipline.'

Just as the ranks of slaves began shuffling into view and the head of the column had reached the widening shoulder, one of the fell knight's lieutenants peeled off from the squad of riders and faced about. As the others rode on, he raised his hand and began bellowing orders in a bestial voice.

'Do they set up camp?' asked Erich uneasily.

Reiner hoped that it was true, for it would give the party some time to find a way around them, but he wasn't so lucky. There was movement in the ranks: captains shouting at their companies, overseers roaring at their slaves, wagon masters calling to each other, and for a moment all seemed chaos and confusion.

Hals squinted at the reforming column. 'What are they about? Oskar, you've got the eyes. What are they doing?'

'They are... They are...' said the artilleryman as he tried to make it out.

But by then it was clear to everyone what the Kurgan force was doing. As the mounted lieutenant stood in his saddle, motioning and shouting, the column began to split to his left and right like a river breaking around an island, some going one way, some the other.

Reiner's heart sunk. He groaned. 'The cursed heathen. They're splitting up. They're taking both paths.'

'Myrmidia, protect us.' said Ulf.

Oskar was whimpering, high in his throat.

Reiner wanted to cut and run, but he forced his fear down with both hands and remained where he was.

Erich turned on Franz. 'Foolish boy, we could have been far away by now. Now they are upon us.' 'Lay off him, von Eisenberg,' said Reiner. 'He suggested it. I ordered it.'

'But which way do we go?' asked Gustaf, querulously.

'Whichever way he doesn't,' muttered Hals, and no one had to ask who 'he' was. They could feel the fell knight's presence growing stronger as he neared.

'We go the way the slaves go,' said Reiner, relieved to be able to give an order he had some confidence in. 'They'll slow the train.'

The slaves went right, and the company breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, for the red knight and most of his retinue had angled left, followed by half of the foot soldiers. A smaller company of horsemen led the slaves and the rest of the infantry.

'Right, lads,' said Reiner, letting the tension out of his shoulders. 'That's decided. Off we go.'

The party stood and hurried up the right-hand path into the dark cleft. No, thought Reiner. Though he hated to admit it, they didn't hurry. They fled.

NINE

Trapped Like Rats

Reiner and the rest ran up the path in almost total darkness, tripping and cursing, but not daring to light a torch. When the wind-whipped clouds allowed it, the light of Morrslieb and Mannslieb illuminated the mountain tops, but the two moons hadn't yet risen high enough to shine down into the tight crevasse through which the company stumbled. They might have passed any number of branching paths, but they were invisible, blending into the dark basalt of the cliff sides.

All around Reiner came the hoarse breathing of the men. He recognised Franz's light quick breaths, Pavel's thready wheeze, Ulfs deep inhalations. They were exhausted. Waiting for the Chaos army had refreshed them a little, but it had been no replacement for sleep. They must stop soon. Even in the midst of their panicked flight, Reiner felt his eyelids drooping. It was pitch dark anyway. He might as well walk with his eyes closed.

After that Reiner was often unsure whether he was walking or sleeping - whether he was walking in a dream, or dreaming that he was walking. He drifted in and out of consciousness so often that he had no sense of the passage of time. He had no idea how long they had been travelling when, just as they topped a rise in the path, the steep ridges that had hemmed them in for so long opened away from them and they found themselves standing on the lip of a deep valley carpeted with a thousand points of light.

Reiner frowned sleepily. The lights looked like stars, but stars belonged in the sky. Maybe it was a lake.

'Torches.' said Oskar.

Reiner shook his head, clearing the fog from his brain. They were torches.

He stepped back into the shadows, heart thudding, and surveyed the valley. The others did the same. As if on cue, the clouds parted again and the two moons shone down on the scene.

The curving walls of the valley were rusty orange stone, and terraced like some giant's staircase. There were holes in the walls on each level, and odd ramshackle structures clinging precariously to the steps: little shacks, wooden sluice runs, scaffolding - except where one of the terraces had collapsed and slid in a heap to the valley floor. The furthest third of the valley was walled off by thick stone battlements, beyond which the party could just make out a confusion of low buildings built around the glowing orange mouth of what looked like a giant cave. But the sight that drew all their eyes was what was in front of the battlements: a sprawling camp of leather tents and blazing campfires, wagons and horses, and laughing, drinking, fighting barbarians.

Kurgan.

'Sigmar preserve us.' whimpered Oskar.

Reiner clamped a hand over the artilleryman's mouth, for he had suddenly noticed, not twenty paces to their left, a stone watch tower carved out of the valley wall. Oskar grunted in protest. The others turned. Reiner pointed to the tower. There were no torches visible, but Reiner was sure he'd seen a hulking figure moving above the crenellations. He motioned the others to retreat. When they were out of sight, Reiner slumped against the rocky wall and closed his eyes. The others gathered around him.

He rubbed his face with his hands. 'Well, we're in a spot, and no mistake.'

'Trapped like rats.' quavered Oskar.

'Kurgan in front of us.' said Ulf.

'Kurgan behind us.' said Pavel.

'Kurgan up our bloody fundaments.' growled Hals.

Reiner chuckled mirthlessly. 'I suppose, Erich, this is where you tell me "I told you so".'

There was no answer. Reiner looked up. He didn't see the blond knight. 'Where's von Eisenberg?'

The others looked around. Erich wasn't with them.

Reiner frowned. 'Any of you hear him drop back?'

Everyone shook their heads.

'Any of you slip a knife in his back?'

Silence.

'I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I want to know.'

More headshaking and 'not I's' answered him.

'Then where's he got to?'

'Maybe he's having a piss,' muttered Gustaf.

'That one don't piss,' said Hals. 'He's perfect.'

'Probably found a little hidey hole back there in the dark,' said Pavel. 'And didn't see fit to tell us. He'll slip around the northers once they've passed.'

'Aye,' said Giano. 'Stupid schoolboy. All he want is to tattle tales to Valdenheim.'

'A lot of good that'll do him,' said Franz.

'Well, never mind about him,' said Reiner. 'He's made his decision. We have to make ours. This place, whatever it is, is obviously the destination of the fellows behind us.'

'It's a mine,' said Ulf. 'An iron mine.'

The others looked up at him.

'Myrmidia's mercy,' said Franz. 'The slaves. They're bringing them here for the mine.'

'And mining iron for weapons and armour,' said Ulf.

'Bad news for the Empire,' said Hals.

'But good news for us,' said Reiner. 'At least I hope so.' He turned to Ulf. 'Urquart, those holes in the walls. They're mine-heads, yes?'

'Aye.'

'Then they'll be deep enough to hide in?'

'Oh, certainly.'

'Then here's the plan. We slip past the tower, sneak along one of those ledges, duck into a hole and wait there until tomorrow night. By that time, the enemy troops behind us will have made camp, and we can sneak back out and away from these damned mountains with none the wiser.'

'Hear hear,' said Franz.

'You make it sound so easy.' said Gustaf. 'What if we're seen passing the tower? What if another force comes up the path tomorrow night?'

'I'll take any suggestions.' said Reiner.

Gustaf grunted, but said nothing.

The party edged back to the lip of the valley, standing just within the shadow of the canyon walls, and looked up at the tower. The Kurgan guard appeared and disappeared at regular intervals as he paced the top of the tower.

'Now?' asked Franz as the guard turned away again.

Reiner looked at the sky, another armada of clouds was sailing in from the north east. 'A moment.'

The clouds ate the moons once again and darkness covered the valley.

'Now we go.'

The men tiptoed swiftly to the nearest terrace, each of which connected to the path as it sloped down the hill. There was a collapsed shack near the close end. They crowded in behind it and waited, listening for the guard to call a challenge. None came.

'Come on. Before the clouds pass.' said Reiner.

They crept along the terrace to the first entrance. It was boarded up. Reiner tugged experimentally on the planks. They creaked alarmingly.

'Let's try further on.'

But the next entrance was walled up with brick and mortar.

'Why would anyone go to the trouble?' asked Reiner, annoyed.

'Cave-ins.' said Ulf. 'Or sink holes. You saw the landslide. This wall was probably overmined and became unstable.'

Oskar gulped. 'Unstable?'

The third hole was boarded up as well, but the boards were so weathered and warped that they had pulled away almost entirely from their nails. A trickle of water ran out from under the barricade and had carved a channel in the terrace.

'This looks promising.' said Reiner.

He and Hals and Giano began pulling the boards away as quietly as possible and set them aside. Some were so rotten they crumbled in their hands.

At last they had cleared the opening, and the timber-framed entrance yawned before them. It was easy to see why it had been closed. Water dripped from above, and it was clear that it had eaten away much of the ceiling. An attempt had been made to shore it up with wide boards propped up by posts, beams and bits of scrap lumber - so many that the entrance looked like a forest of thin, limbless trees - but the water had seeped into all of these, and they were bowed and rotting. The floor of the tunnel was muddy and calf-deep in loose rock and earth which had fallen from above. Reiner didn't like the look of it at all, but the clouds were thinning. There was no time to find another.

'Come on, then,' he said. 'In we go. And each of you carry a board. We'll have to close it up again from the inside or they'll notice.'

The others trooped in, each with a board under one arm, picking their way through the thicket of supports, but Oskar hung back, looking at the gaping hole with trepidation.

'Come on, gunner,' said Reiner.

The artilleryman shook his head. 'I don't like holes.'

Reiner rolled his eyes, impatient. 'Nor do I. But in we must go'

'I cannot,' whimpered Oskar. 'I cannot.'

'You'll have to. There's no help for it.' Reiner stepped toward Oskar, reaching out to him.

The gunner pulled back. 'No.'

Reiner shot a glance over his shoulder and clenched his fists. 'Oskar! Stop messing about!' he hissed. He grabbed for Oskar's elbow.

Oskar flinched away and kicked a discarded beam with his heel. It tottered on the lip of the ledge, then tumbled down to the level below.

Reiner groaned and looked back toward the tower. It was too dark out to see it. But he thought he heard a guttural voice call a question.

Reiner lost his temper. 'Curse you, you craven ninny!' he whispered hoarsely, 'Get in there!' He leapt forward, grabbed Oskar by the arm and flung him into the opening.

He regretted the action instantly, for the artilleryman flew into the first rank of props and knocked them hither and thither. One snapped in half. A shower of dirt and small stones rained down on the fallen Oskar and the ceiling groaned ominously.

'Sigmar blast it!' Reiner ran into the entrance, grabbed Oskar by the collar and dragged him through the supports to where the rest of the men had turned at the noise. The floor was clearer here, and the posts fewer. He stopped and looked back.

There was a crack, loud as a pistol shot, then another. First one post, then two more began to bend and fold, then another three.

'Back!' Reiner shouted. 'Back!'

The men ran into the darkness, Franz helping to drag Oskar further down the tunnel.

With a thunderous crash the ceiling above the entrance collapsed, deafening them. A cloud of dust, invisible in the utter darkness, blew around them, making them choke and cough. Sharp rocks spat at their shins and ankles.

At last, with a few final thuds and plinks, the avalanche ended and the men's coughing and retching dwindled off into silence. It was pitch black.

'Everyone here?' asked Reiner. He called out their names one by one and they answered. All but Oskar.

Reiner sighed. 'Strike a light, someone.'

Hals got a taper going and they looked around for Oskar. He was still on the floor, clutching his knees and looking around him wildly. As the flame grew brighter he looked beyond them to the sloping mound of rock and mud that blocked the entrance. He cried out, an animal sound, and scrambled forward on his hands and knees. As the men watched, non-plussed, he began to scrabble at the rocks with his bare hands. 'Dig! We must dig! We must get out! No air! There is no air!'

The rocks were impossible to shift. Oskar began pounding on them, bloodying his hands and shrieking wordlessly.

The men grimaced and turned their heads, but Reiner had had enough. 'Sigmar's balls!' he blasphemed, stepping forward, 'Will you shutup!'He spun Oskar around by the shoulder and punched him as hard as he could in the jaw.

Reiner's knuckles flared with pain at the contact, but the result was extremely gratifying. Oskar flopped bonelessly to the ground and lay there, silent at last - out cold.

Reiner turned to the others, sucking a bleeding knuckle. They beamed appreciatively at him. He tried to think of something witty to say, but he couldn't. Exhaustion suddenly overcame him. His knees nearly gave way.

'Well.' he said wearily. 'I think this day's gone on long enough. Let's make camp.'

TEN

Let The Wind Be Your Guide

Worn to a frazzle though he was, Reiner still had some difficulty getting to sleep. He might have sneered at Oskar's panic, but he had punched the artilleryman because he'd felt it spreading to his own heart as well. He too had been overcome with an overwhelming sense of doom when the roof collapsed. And of guilt. He had done this. If he hadn't lost his temper and thrown Oskar into the posts it might not have happened. He had trapped them. Anything that happened to them now would be his fault. If they couldn't find another way out? His fault. If something crawled out of the dark, unexplored tunnel and devoured them? His fault. If the air became so sour they couldn't breathe? His fault. If they starved to death? If they went mad and ate each other to stay alive? His fault.

But at last even guilt couldn't keep him awake. Exhaustion dragged him down like a mermaid pulling him beneath the waves, and he slept the sleep of the dead until, sometime later, the scratching and squeaking began. He ignored it for as long as he could, drifting in and out of dreams where it was his old dog scratching at his door, a harlot of his acquaintance combing her hair on the creaking bed in his apartment back in Altdorf, a tree branch rubbing against the roof of his tent on the march up from Wissenberg, but finally images of rats and giant insects and bloodsucking bats forced him to open his eyes and look around.

There was nothing to see, of course. It was still as black as an orc's armpit. He could tell by the snores that the rest were still asleep. With a grunt of annoyance he fished around in his pack until he found his flint and steel, then struck a spark onto his tinder paper and lit a taper.

His moving around woke some of the others and they sat up blinking in the unaccustomed light as Reiner raised the taper and looked for the source of the scratching.

It was Oskar again, whining and clawing dispiritedly at the pile of stone. Reiner winced. The gunner must have been at it for hours. His fingernails were gone, ripped away, and the tips of his fingers were bloody shreds.

'Oskar,' Reiner called.

The gunner didn't respond. Reiner stood and stepped to him. Oskar's lips were moving. Reiner leaned in to hear what he was saying.

'Nearly there. Nearly there. Nearly there. Nearly there. Nearly there. Nearly there. Nearly there.'

Reiner put his hand on Oskar's shoulder and shook him. 'Come on, Oskar. We're going to see what's down the hall. Might be another way out, eh?'

Oskar pulled violently away. 'No! We must dig! We'll all die if we don't dig!' He began digging with renewed vigour, but no better results. The rock he was clawing at was stained a brownish-red from his blood.

Reiner sighed and turned. The others were frowning sleepily at him and Oskar. Reiner found Gustaf among them. 'Gustaf. Have you anything in your kit to quiet him?'

'Oh aye,' said the surgeon dryly. 'I've just the thing.'

Reiner caught his tone and shot him a hard look. 'If he dies of it, you'll follow him.'

Gustaf shrugged, and began unbuckling his kit.

'But, captain,' said Hals, 'why not just put him out of his misery? He has no mind no more, the poor fellow. He's no use to anybody, least of all himself.'

Reiner shook his head. 'With Erich deserting us, we need every man we have. Do you think we should leave Pavel behind just because he's having trouble keeping up?'

Hals stuck out his chin. 'No, sir. No, I wouldn't like that.'

'I'm feeling much better now, sir,' Pavel piped up anxiously.

Gustaf stepped forward and held out a small black bottle and a tin spoon. 'Here. A spoonful will calm him. Juice of the poppy. Nothing poisonous.'

Reiner took the bottle. 'Thank you. I'm familiar with it.'

Gustaf smiled slyly. 'I've no doubt.'

Reiner flushed. He pulled the cork and inhaled. The sweet, cloying scent teased his nose. He fought the urge to have a spoonful himself. It would be so nice to drift away from all this unpleasantness and get some real rest, but that was a bad idea. He had been down that road once before and nearly lost his way.

He filled the spoon and squatted beside Oskar. 'Here, lad. It'll give you strength for your digging.'

The gunner turned his head without stopping and opened his mouth. Reiner spooned some of the liquid into him. He felt like a nurse feeding an infant, which was near enough to the truth.

He stood and turned to the men. He sighed. It was time to face the music. 'Listen, you lot. I want to speak to you.' He paused, hesitant to go on, then cleared his throat and continued. 'It was I who got you into this mess. I led us up into these blasted mountains, I picked this path instead of the other one, and I threw poor Oskar into those posts and brought the roof down on us. I'm about ready to stop playing at captain and let someone else take over. In fact, I'm a little surprised someone didn't murder me in my sleep just now and assume command.'

The others said nothing, only stared at him.

He swallowed. 'So, if anyone else wants the job, speak up. I'll step down, and happily.'

More silence, then finally Pavel coughed.

'Sorry, captain,' he said. 'We're only rankers. Peasants and merchants' sons and the like. Ye be gentry. Yer meant to lead. It's yer job.'

'But I'm making a mess of it! Look where we are! I did this! We are trapped in here because I lost my temper. You ought to be mutinying by now.'

'Naw, captain,' said Hals. 'We don't blame you for all that. You done your best, and none can ask more than that. It's when a captain starts to worry more about his own skin than the skins of his men. Thats when... er, well, when things might happen.'

Reiner blushed, embarrassed. They thought so highly of him, and he was such a villain. His own skin was exactly what he was worried about. He'd taken the lead because he wanted the rest of the men around to protect him if things went wrong. It was only because he was endangering himself by doing so terrible a job that he wanted to pass the baton to someone more competent.

He sighed. 'Very well. If no one will take the burden.' He turned and began packing up his bedroll. 'Let's find a way out of this hole.'

By the time the others had collected their gear and choked down a dry breakfast, Oskar was slumped against the boulders with his eyes closed.

'Well done, Gustaf,' said Reiner. 'Now dress his wounds and tend to him. He's your patient now. Keep him moving.'

'A pleasure, sir,' said Gustaf. But he didn't mean it.

Gustaf bound Oskar's fingertips and got him on his feet while Hals lit two of their precious torches and Veirt's slotted lantern. Then they all shouldered their packs and they started into the darkness. Giano took point, creeping down the tunnel twenty paces ahead holding the lantern close-shuttered. Reiner and Franz led the rest. Ulf walked behind them, then came Pavel leaning on Hals, and Oskar leaning on Gustaf. They walked into a steady breeze, which gave Reiner hope. Moving air meant some passage to the outside. What was curious was that the breeze was sometimes cold and sometimes warm.

The tunnel joined another almost immediately, this one with two iron rails running down the centre fixed to wooden ties. Some of the rail was missing, and the ties rotten.

'Which way?' asked Giano, turning back to them.

'Let the wind be your guide,' said Reiner. 'Take whichever passage it blows from.'

Giano turned into the wind and they followed the glow of his lantern further into the mine. The tunnel dipped and turned eccentrically as it followed a seam of ore through the earth, and the longer they paced it the more cross tunnels and branching ways they passed. Sometimes it opened it out into wide columned areas where a particularly rich deposit had been found, only to narrow down again.

After a quarter of an hour Giano came hurrying back flapping his free hand. 'Douse torches!' he hissed. 'Douse torches.'

Reiner and Hals stabbed their torches into the dirt of the tunnel floor as Giano closed the lantern's slot. They were surprised to find that they were not in total darkness. A faint flickering glow reached them from around a bend in the passage, and the tramp of heavy feet echoed in the distance.

'Kurgan,' whispered Giano.

Reiner and the others drew their weapons and held their breath as the light grew brighter and the footsteps got louder. They began to hear gruff voices mumbling in a barbaric tongue. Reiner found himself gripping his sabre so hard that his knuckles ached, but after a long moment when it sounded as if the Kurgan were standing beside them, talking in their ears, the voices and the light faded again, and then disappeared altogether.

The party breathed a collective sigh of relief.

'Well,' said Reiner, trying for jocularity. 'I'm fairly sure there's another way out now.'

'Aye,' said Hals. 'Through them.'

They relit the torches, then rounded the bend and entered an intersection. The wind blew from the direction the Kurgan had taken. The rails went that way too. They took it.

'Just don't catch up with them,' Reiner said to Giano.

The Tilean grinned and returned to point position.

Soon they began to hear great clankings and groanings, and the susurrus of hundreds of voices shouting and talking. Harsh cries rose above the murmur, and crackings and clashings. A steady red glow filtered down the tunnel, and the wind gusted hot and cold. It began to smell of sweat and smoke and death.

As Reiner passed a right-hand tunnel he was buffeted by a blast of oven-hot air. He stopped. A spur of the rails branched into the tunnel. Red light shone on the rocky walls at the far end and the clanking and roaring was louder here.

'Giano,' he called softly. 'Back here.'

Reiner led his companions into the cross tunnel, edging cautiously toward the red light. Thirty paces in, the tunnel came to an abrupt end at a rough arch. Through it they could see under-lit clouds of smoke rising from below. There was no floor beyond the arch, just two short lengths of twisted rail and the splintered remains of a wooden trestle jutting out over a precipitous drop.

Reiner slid forward and peered down into an enormous cave, the floor of which was a good forty feet below them. The others crowded in behind him, craning their necks. A hellish panorama spread out before them. Directly below the opening was the source of the smoke - two giant, pyramid-shaped stone furnaces, each as big as an Altdorf row house. The smoke belched from square openings at their apexes. Into these holes two endless lines of slaves were dumping buckets of red-streaked black rocks. The slaves crawled up the sides of the pyramids like ants, dropped their burdens into the smoking chimneys, then filed away again to the far side of the cave to great mountains of the reddish stuff, where they filled their buckets again and repeated the journey, over and over again.

'So much ore.' said Ulf, awestruck. 'This rivals the ironworks of Nuln.'

To the right of the furnaces the cave narrowed down to a yawning black hole into which vanished more iron rails. A long train of slaves was shuffling into the hole, six abreast. They were shackled at the ankles and carried pickaxes over their shoulders. Huge Kurgan overseers herded them forward, bellowing and cracking whips over their heads. At their sides were huge, leashed hounds that lunged and barked at the slaves.

More slaves pushed large wooden carts out of the hole on the iron rails, then pulled them up long ramps supported by a wooden scaffolding that rose over the mounds of ore. They tipped the contents of the carts onto the heaps, then lowered them back down the ramp and into the hole again.

The slaves were men, women and children, but so gaunt and starved, so careworn and covered in filth that it was difficult to determine their sex or age. They all looked like stooped old men, hair lank and patchy, faces lined and slack. Their eyes were as dull as dry clay. Many were horribly maimed, missing fingers or hands or arms or eyes. Some limped around on poorly-fashioned wooden legs. Whip marks criss-crossed their naked backs, and shiny patches of scar tissue from countless burns covered their arms and legs. Their overseers took no pity on them, however, kicking and whipping those who lagged or paused in their labours, and beating mercilessly any that showed even the slightest glimmer of fight.

Franz clenched his fists. 'The animals! I'll kill them all!'

At the backs of the furnaces more slaves fed split logs into roaring fireboxes, while others worked great bellows, as big as rich men's beds. At the front, slaves in heavy aprons and thick gloves dragged stone moulds shaped like keg-sized loaves of bread under endless streams of white-hot molten iron. As each mould was filled, it was dragged aside and replaced by another. Off to one side, iron loaves that had cooled were knocked out of the moulds with wooden mauls and loaded onto carts.

Reiner watched a cart as it rolled into a further chamber. It was hard to see through the smoke, but he thought he could make out the fires of forges and the glistening bodies of smiths making armour and weapons with terrifying industry and piling them into great heaps. And beyond that... He squinted and shielded his eyes from a harsh white light. What fresh horror was this? It looked almost like... His heart lurched as he realised that he was looking outside, and that it was daylight. He hadn't realised how much he'd longed for it. But as his eyes adjusted to the brightness he saw buildings and stables and Chaos troops milling about, and most discouraging of all, the great stone battlements they had seen when they first entered the valley the night before.

Hals sighed. 'We've to get through all that?'

'We'll find a way, lad,' said Reiner. 'Don't worry.' But he wished someone would tell him how. He was about to ask for suggestions, when something else caught his eye. A wide column of Kurgan warriors was marching into the caves from outside. They looked to be the same fellows who had chased them here in the first place, but instead of the ragged leathers and bits and pieces of plundered armour they had worn before, now they wore matching suits of shining armour that encased breast, back, shoulders and arms. Close fitting helms hid their shaggy heads and long skirts of chainmail covered their legs. All was brand new, undented and flawless, and the spears and axes and swords they rested on their shoulders were freshly made as well, the honed edges flashing red in the furnace glow.

The column filed into the cave, eight abreast, with no end in sight. It looked like an army on the march, but where could they be marching to? There wasn't enough room for them all in the furnace cavern. Were they coming to slaughter all the slaves? That made no sense. Were there barracks further into the caves?

The head of the column wound between the furnaces and the mountains of ore, scattering slaves left and right, then marched straight into the minehead tunnel.

'Where are they going?' he muttered.

'Maybe there's been an insurrection in the mines,' said Franz hopefully.

Reiner shook his head. 'Look at those poor fellows. You think they have the energy to revolt? Let alone the will?'

'Captain,' said Pavel. 'Look!'

Reiner looked back toward the cave entrance. The end of the column of troops was at last in sight, and there was a sting in its tail. A phalanx of slaves was pulling a huge cannon on a massive gun carriage.

Ulf sucked in a horrified breath. 'Cannon!' he whispered. 'They have a cannon.'

'Impossible,' said Hals, pushing forward. 'Chaos troops don't have guns. They haven't the know-how.'

'Then someone has given it to them,' said Reiner.

ELEVEN

The End Of The Empire

Cautiously, so as not to draw attention to their hiding place, Reiner studied the massive cannon the slaves pulled. It was the biggest field piece he had ever seen, twice as long as the Empire's great cannon, with a muzzle as wide as a keg of Marienburg ale. Its mouth was decorated to resemble a screaming daemonic maw, ringed with fangs. The barrel was detailed in silver dragon scales and barbaric designs. The carriage that it rested upon was made in the shape of two crouching legs, also scaled, that gripped the axle in two immense bronze claws. Its wooden wheels were each as tall as a man.

Reiner shivered. 'A few of those would turn the tide of a battle, eh?'

Franz looked around at him, eyes wide. 'Sigmar! Pray there isn't more than one!'

'But where did they get the knowledge?' asked Ulf. 'The secrets of gunnery are the Empire's most closely guarded.'

His question was answered as they saw the figures that followed the gun, berating the slaves who pulled it. They were half the height of the smallest slave, but bulging with muscles, and wore beards braided to their knees.

'Dwarfs!' said Franz, gaping.

'Those are dwarfs?' asked Pavel, uncertainly.

Reiner looked closer. He hadn't seen many dwarfs in his lifetime - they didn't come much to Altdorf - but these fellows looked like no dwarf he'd ever encountered. They seemed almost deformed by their muscles: stumping around on twisted but powerful legs. Their heads were distorted by ridges of bone, and their hands crowded with extra fingers.

'Bent on the forge of Chaos,' said Gustaf under his breath.

Reiner shivered.

'The forces of Chaos with artillery,' groaned Ulf. 'This could mean the end of the Empire. They must be stopped. We must tell someone.'

'Certainly,' said Pavel sourly. 'Right after we get out of here.'

Reiner shook his head as the warriors continued to file into the tunnel. 'I don't understand it. They can't be going to make war underground. No one in their right mind, not even a Chaos-crazed berzerker, fires a cannon in a mine. What do they mean to do?'

'They go south to fight a battle,' said Gustaf. 'There are old tunnels beneath the mine that run the length of the range.'

Everyone turned to stare at him.

'How do you know this?' asked Reiner.

'I overheard the patrol who passed us speaking of it.'

Reiner raised an eyebrow. 'You understand their jabber?'

'Course he does,' said Hals, spitting. 'A servant always learns his master's tongue. I knew there was something wrong about you, y'daemon worshipping filth.'

'If I serve the dark ones, then why am I not betraying you now?'

'And howdo you come to speak their language?' asked Reiner.

Gustaf looked for a moment as if he wasn't going to speak, then he sighed. 'I don't, but it is similar to the tongue of the Kossars. The company of lancers I served with in Kislev had a detachment of Kossar horse. I learned their speech - particularly their curses - when I treated their wounds.'

The others eyed him coolly, weighing this. They didn't look as if they believed him.

'What else did they say?' asked Reiner. 'Did they give any details?'

Gustaf shrugged. 'As I said, I only speak a few words. They said the word south, and tunnel, and castle. I got the idea that they were going to fight at the castle, though whether they were fighting to take it or defend it, I don't know. They said the name. Norse something? North, perhaps?'

Reiner's heart thudded in his chest. 'Nordbergbruche!'

'It might have been.'

'Ain't that Lord Manfred's castle?' asked Pavel. 'What Captain Veirt was going on about? Didn't he say the northers had taken it?'

'Aye,' said Reiner. He turned on Gustaf. 'Why didn't you tell us this earlier?'

'You didn't ask.'

Reiner curled his lip and turned back to the cave in time to see the cannon vanish into the tunnel. He thought furiously. It would be a terrible blow to the Empire if that cannon was loosed upon it. But did he care? The Empire had jailed and branded him unjustly. He owed it no favours. At the same time, it might be in his best interests to help his homeland. If Manfred could be convinced to reward them for warning him of his brother's treachery, how much bigger might the reward be if Reiner informed him of the coming of the cannon as well?

He gnawed a knuckle. Which was the least dangerous path? Which was the most profitable? How did he decide?

At last he turned. 'Well lads, I've a plan. I doubt any of you will like it much. But I think it's our best chance, so we'll put it to a vote, eh?'

The men waited patiently. Gustaf folded his arms.

Reiner swallowed. 'It's my guess that Count Manfred is waiting for Albrecht to join him before the two of them storm Nordbergbruche together. And as soon as he gets Lady Magda's banner Albrecht will be on his way, but not to help his brother. I think he's marching to fight him, army against army, and with that unholy thing on his side, Albrecht may well win.' Reiner coughed uneasily. 'If we somehow found a way out of here and made it down to the flatlands without running into more northers, it would take us weeks, maybe a month, to circle the mountains and make it to Nordbergbruche - if we're lucky and aren't eaten by Sigmar-knows-what along the way. By that time the battle might already have occurred. Albrecht may have won, and we would be too late to warn Manfred and collect our reward.' He pointed down toward the minehead. 'These fellows have found a short cut, a direct line from here to there. I... I say we take it.'

There were grunts of shock and dismay.

'I know it's a rotten idea,' said Reiner. 'But I think it's the only way we can make it in time. What do you say?'

There was a long silence. Finally Hals chuckled.

'Laddie,' he said. 'That speech you made, back there at the cave-in, about leading us wrong at every turn. Well, most of it was true, I suppose. But y'still have more ideas than the rest of us, and one's bound to come right one of these days, so... I'm with you.'

'And I,' said Pavel.

'And I,' said Franz.

'The Empire must be told of these cannon as soon as possible,' said Ulf. 'Count me in.'

Giano spread his hands. 'One way is as bad as the other, hey?'

'Go into the mine?' asked Oskar numbly.

Gustaf shrugged. 'I wouldn't make it on my own, would I?'

'You might not make itwith us, daemon worshipper,' snarled Hals.

Gustaf curled his lip. 'That's as may be, but you certainly won't make it without me.'

'And what's the meaning of that?' asked Reiner, looking up.

Gustaf smirked. 'The Kurgan spoke of an obstacle, a choke point near the end of the tunnels, that we will have difficulty circumventing. But there is a way.'

'What is it?' asked Reiner. 'How do we get around it?'

Gustaf shook his head. 'Do you think me a fool? I know what you think of me. I know you'd stick a knife in my guts if you thought I was no longer useful to you. Consider this extra protection against... accidents.'

Reiner and the others glared at him.

'You really are a loathsome little worm,' said Reiner at last. He turned away before Gustaf had a chance to retort, and clapped his hands. 'Right then,' he said. 'It's decided. Now the trick is getting to the minehead undetected.'

'Go into the mines?' asked Oskar again, mournfully.

'Sorry, old man,' said Reiner. 'But Gustaf will take care of you.' He shot the surgeon a look. 'Won't you, Gustaf?'

They returned to the main passage. After fifty paces, the rails sloped down a ramp to the level of the cave floor as the noises of hammering and the roar of fire grew louder and louder. At its base, the ramp bent right into a short corridor. A narrow passage intersected it, and ten paces beyond that, it opened into the giant cavern. Reiner could see ranks of smiths at their anvils, hammering out swords and pieces of armour as slaves scurried around them, holding the work steady, feeding the fires, squeezing the bellows. The cross corridor looked more promising. It was small and dark and smelled of death, decay, and cooking meat.

'Smells like pork,' said Pavel hungrily.

Gustaf snorted. 'Two legged pork.'

'Shut your mouth, y'filthy dog,' snarled Hals.

'Quiet,' said Reiner. 'Now douse torches. Weapons out.'

The men drew their swords and daggers, then slipped around the corner into the dark passage. The stench was almost overwhelming and it only got worse as they continued - as did the noise. Twenty paces along they saw ahead of them on the left wall a tiny, leather-curtained doorway, through which came a ground-shaking hammering and flashes of blinding green light, and under the deafening banging, a chorus of guttural voices chanting in unison. A moment later the curtain flipped open and two slaves pushed through it, dragging a third, who was obviously dead.

Reiner and the others halted and held their breath, but the slaves looked neither left or right, only hauled their burden listlessly down the hall, oblivious. Reiner crept to the curtain and peeked through, then drew back reflexively at the sight that met his eyes. After waiting a moment to quiet his heart, he looked again. The others peered over his shoulders.

Through the tiny door was a pillared, seven-sided room that had been hacked crudely out of the living rock. Towering representations of blood-red daemons were painted on each of the seven walls, though whether they were seven different entities or seven aspects of the same god, Reiner didn't know. Seven pillars surrounded a raised dais. On his first glance Reiner had thought that the pillars were decorated with carvings of skulls, but a second look showed that the skulls were real - with chipped teeth and crushed crowns - and covered every inch of the pillars from floor to ceiling. There were thousands of them.

But what had made Reiner draw back in fear were the occupants of the room. A ring of armoured Kurgan stood along the walls, chanting unceasingly. They were bare-headed, and Reiner could see that their eyes were rolled back in their heads. Lines and sigils had been smeared on their cheeks with blood. The focus of their attention was the dais in the centre of the room. Here, where one would have expected some heathen altar, there stood instead a huge iron anvil, with a glowing furnace beside it, and a wide, shallow basin before it, filled with a red liquid that could only be blood. Behind the altar a hulking, barely-human smith worked a set of enormous bellows. He stood seven feet tall if he was an inch, and his massive, muscled arms each looked as big around as Reiner's ribcage. He was stripped to the waist and covered in a pattern of scars and burns that looked more decorative than accidental. Lank black hair hung over his face, hiding it, but Reiner could see the flash of white tusks jutting up from the corners of his mouth and two blunt horns pushing through the skin of his brow.

A wild-eyed shaman with a dreadlocked beard and hairy robes that seemed to have been stitched from scalps stood at his side, leading the chanting in a hoarse voice. Two Kurgan warriors stood at the edge of the dais holding a sagging slave between them. More slaves stood behind the first.

As Reiner and the others watched, the giant smith pulled a glowing blade from the furnace by the naked tang and set it on the anvil. He raised a mighty hammer over his head and began beating the edge of the blade with it. Though the blade glowed orange-white, the sparks that flew at each hammer-fall were an eerie green that burned Reiners eyes as if he was looking directly into the sun. The host of Kurgan grunted in unison with each hammer fall.

With a final blow, the smith finished shaping the blade and held it flat on the anvil. As the chanting rose to a fever pitch, the shaman stepped forward, wielding a smaller hammer and an iron implement that looked something like a wine bottle. He set the base of the iron bottle on the blade, just above the tang, and smote it with the hammer as the warriors barked a two syllable word. More green sparks splashed and the smith raised the blade. It had been imprinted with a crude runic symbol that Reiner's eyes shied uneasily away from.

At a signal from the shaman, the Kurgan guards shoved a slave forward. In unison, the smith, the shaman and the assembled Kurgan shouted a short, guttural incantation, then the smith ran the slave through with the still glowing blade. It hissed. The slave screamed and doubled up. The smith, with inhuman strength, lifted the slave off the ground on the point and held him aloft until the blood from his wound ran, spitting and boiling, down the fuller to fill the pattern of the stamped rune.

Reiner flinched back involuntarily again, for as the blood touched the rune, the sword suddenly seemed to have a presence. It felt as if some malevolent entity had entered the temple. The warriors fell to their knees and raised their arms in adulation.

Reiner and the others cringed back from the curtain, grimacing, as the smith gave the blade to the shaman, who held it over his head and showed it to the ring of warriors. They roared their approval.

'Are we tainted just for seeing that?' asked Franz.

'It pains a son of Sigmar,' said Hals, 'to see a hammer used for so evil a purpose.'

Ulf raised a hand. 'The slaves return.'

The company backed into the shadows as the two slaves - a man and a woman, they could now see, both skeleton thin - padded back to the curtained door and passed through it. After a moment, they reappeared, dragging the body of the impaled slave behind them and disappeared once again down the dark hallway.

After waiting a moment, Reiner motioned them forward.

Franz shivered. 'I dread to see what lies at the end of this.'

Reiner patted the boy's shoulder. 'What in death could be worse than the life these poor souls have suffered in bondage?'

As they continued down the hall, the reek of death increased. There was more light ahead as well. Faint torchglow shone from two curtained doorways, one on either side of the hall. They reached the left-hand one first and Reiner cautiously peeked in.

It was an enormous room: not deep, but so long that the two ends were hidden in darkness. A wide doorway on the opposite wall opened directly into the cavern that housed the furnaces, and through it Reiner could see the lines of bucket-toting slaves making their endless rounds. The room itself was filled with rank after rank of poorly-made plank beds, stacked six high and none as wide as Ulf's shoulders.

The beds to the left side of the door were empty. Those to the right were full of bony, huddled forms, their elbows, knees and hips raw and bruised from lying on the naked wood. They moaned and coughed and twitched in their fitful slumbers, or worse, moved not at all.

As Reiner watched, a curious procession came into view between two rows of beds. A Kurgan guard swaggered along, followed by four slaves pushing a flat cart piled with bodies. The Kurgan had a sharp stick, and with it, he prodded the sleeping slaves one by one. Most flinched and cried out. Those that didn't, the Kurgan jabbed again, harder this time. If a slave still failed to respond, the Kurgan dragged him off his plank and threw him on the cart, then moved on.

At the end of the row the cart was full and the Kurgan barked an order. Reiner ducked back as the slaves turned the cart toward him, and waved the others back down the hall into the shadows.

The Kurgan led the slaves out of the barracks and into the door on the opposite side of the hall. After a pause Reiner edged to it, at once compelled by curiosity and terrified at what he might see. The others followed. Reiner looked in, hoping against hope that what he would see would be some kind of embalming chamber or garbage pit. It was not. It was what his nose told him it would be: a kitchen. He pulled back, disgusted, and pushed Franz past the door. 'Don't look, lad. Keep moving.'

Franz made to protest, but Reiner shoved him roughly down the hall. He and the others slipped past in ones and twos as it was safe, and continued down the hall, shuddering with revulsion at the sights within the kitchen. Reiner wished he could get the smell of meat out of his nose.

A little further on, Ulf stopped at another open door. 'Wait.' he whispered. 'In here.'

He entered the room. The others looked in. Ulf was picking through piles of poorly made picks and shovels that were heaped against the walls along with stacks of pitch-smeared torches, coils of rope, wooden buckets, lengths of chain, sections of iron rail, iron wheels, leather aprons and gloves. All were of poorest quality - made by slaves, for slaves.

'If we are to travel long underground,' said Ulf as the others entered, 'we will want torches and rope, and possibly picks and shovels as well. Everyone should take what they can.'

'We're not all built like pack horses, engineer,' said Hals.

Ulf slung a coil of rope over his shoulder. 'We've encountered one cave-in already. We may have to dig our way out of another. Then there are the dangers of pitfalls, uncrossable chasms, unscalable cliffs. We may need to widen a passage to get through. Or block a passage to prevent pursuit. And...'

'All right, Urquart,' said Reiner quickly. 'You've made your point. We don't want to give Oskar the fibertygibbits again. Everyone take torches and rope. For the rest you may do as you please.'

Everyone did as he asked. Hals, though he had complained the loudest, took a pick and gave a shovel to Pavel. When all had been packed away, they moved on.

The passage ended fifty paces later in a doorway through which shone the red glow of the main cavern. Reiner and the others eased forward to peer through. The doorway came out just behind the two massive furnaces. The slaves that fed the fires and their overseers were less than three long strides from the door. Reiner could have spat on them. Instead, he looked toward the mine-head, just beyond the furnaces to the right. It was close. A short sprint and they would be within its shadow and away, but that sprint was fraught with dangers.

At least a dozen Kurgan guards stood between them and the mine head, and there were a hundred within easy call. Reiner frowned. If only there was some way to distract them, to draw the attention of the entire room for the few seconds they needed to dart through unnoticed.

And just as he thought it, a great, almost musical, crash sounded through the cavern. Every head looked up, Kurgan and slave alike. The crash came again. Reiner craned his neck and saw to the left, a Kurgan beating a cracked gong, hung from a rope, as out of the wide door that led from the sleeping quarters came a procession of slaves staggering under the weight of huge steaming cauldrons they carried on long poles.

The overseers barked orders to their work parties and motioned them toward the centre of the cavern where the kitchen slaves were setting the cauldrons. There was no need for orders. The slaves downed tools and flocked toward the stew pots like wolves running down a deer, licking their lips and fighting each other to be first in line.

Pavel turned away, shuddering.

'Don't blame them, lad,' said Reiner. 'Blame the fiends who drove them to it. Now pull yourselves together. We daren't miss this chance.'

The furnaces were deserted. Reiner and the rest darted around the right hand one, taking cover behind its great bulk. They were instantly drenched in sweat from the heat that radiated from it. To their left the cave wall narrowed to the blackness of the mine-head. They crept along it, crouching low.

Halfway to the hole they ran out of cover. They would have to make the last thirty feet out in the open. Reiner stood on his toes to see where the Kurgan were. All of them seemed fully occupied at the stew pots, the overseers reaching in and stealing the choicer bits of flesh from the slaves. He turned to the men.

'Ready, lads?'

Everyone except Oskar nodded.

'Keep him pointed in the right direction.' Reiner said to Gustaf, then took one last look toward the centre of the cave. 'Right,' he said. 'Run.'

The men ran fast and low, Gustaf holding Oskar down by the scruff of the neck. The run lasted only a few seconds, but it seemed an eternity to Reiner, who swore he could feel the eyes of every Kurgan in the cave turning towards him. But as they sprinted into the black mouth of the mine no shouts echoed down the cave, no gongs crashed, no arrows rattled off the rocks around them. They reined to a stop twenty paces into the shadow and looked back. No one was coming after them.

'We make it, hey?' said Giano, smiling.

'Aye.' said Pavel dryly. 'The first step in a thousand-league journey.'

'Less of that, pikeman!' growled Reiner, unconsciously mimicking Veirt. 'Now come on. I want to be well away from here.'

'As do I.' said Hals.

They started down the long dark passage, not yet sure enough of their surroundings to light torches. Behind him, Reiner could hear Oskar whimper as the blackness closed in completely around them.

TWELVE

There Is No Good Decision Here

After a half hour of utter darkness and silence it seemed safe to light torches, and all breathed sighs of relief. All except Oskar. The soothing effects of Gustaf's draught were wearing off and he began to look around uneasily and mutter about, 'The weight. The stone. There is no air.'

'Why ever did you decide to become a soldier, gunner?' grumbled Hals. 'Is there nothing you ain't afraid of?'

'I never meant to be a soldier,' murmured Oskar, slurring a little. 'I was m'lord Gottenstet's secretary. I wrote his correspondence for him. Read it too. Illiterate, the old fool. But one day...' he sighed and stopped.

The others waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have forgotten he was talking.

'One day, what?' asked Pavel, annoyed.

'Eh?' said Oskar. 'Oh... yes. Well, one day I was with m'lord as he was surveying some land he owned. He wanted to build a, a hunting lodge I think it was. And while the surveyor was using his plumb line and his measuring sticks to calculate distances and heights, I was guessing, and coming right almost to the foot. I picked out far away things that the surveyor needed his spyglass to make out. "Sigmar's lightning, lad," says Gottenstet. "Y've the making of a fine mortar man." And nothing would do but he must send me to the Artillery School at Nuln. Me! A scholar! I tried to tell him that though my eyes might be strong, my insides were weak, but he would have none of it.' He shrugged. 'Of course I didn't help matters by coming out top of my class. I liked the work: making the sightings, calling out the degrees, but on the field...' He shivered and hugged his shoulders. 'Did you ever see the fire from the sky? The thing with the mouths.' He looked around him suddenly as if waking up, his eyes widening as he took in the close stone walls, the low ceiling. 'The weight,' he murmured. 'Sigmar, save us, the weight. Can't breathe.'

Reiner grimaced, uncomfortable. 'Gustaf, give him another sip, will you?'

The corridor sank deeper and deeper into the mountains. Occasionally corridors branched off to the left and right, iron rails gleaming away into the shadows. Some were barricaded off and the party could see evidence of cave-ins behind them, but there was no confusion on which way to go. The deep tracks of the cannon's wheels always pointed the way.

A while later the iron rails began to sing, and soon after came a metallic rumbling. The company doused their torches and ducked into a side tunnel. After a moment a train of carts rolled by, full of ore, each pushed by a team of shackled slaves, their eyes dull. A Kurgan overseer reclined in the first cart, a lantern at his side.

Franz cursed under his breath once they'd passed. 'So many of them, and one of him. Couldn't they strangle him? Dump him down a shaft?'

'And then?' asked Reiner.

The boy grunted with frustration, but couldn't answer.

As the train's rumble faded, it revealed nearer sounds: the thud and chunk of picks biting into rock, the crack of whips, the barking of hounds. They stepped back into the main corridor and looked forward. A faint light picked out distant sections of wall, the glint of rails.

Reiner looked at the cannon's wheel tracks, running straight ahead and sighed. 'It looks as if the warband marched beyond the work party. We will have to take side corridors around them and hope we can find the tracks on the other side. Keep the torches dark. We'll travel by the lantern only.'

They continued forward in the main tunnel until the reflected light became bright enough for them to be able to see each other's faces, then began hunting for cross corridors. The sounds of mining came mostly from the left of the main tunnel, so they edged right, taking thinner tunnels and winding crawl-ways.

After a time they found a promising corridor that paralleled the main corridor. It was nearly as wide and had rails running down the centre. These seemed both newer and cruder than the rails they had followed from the ironworks. The sounds of mining reached them only as echoes here, and came more from their left than from in front of them. Reiner began to feel almost hopeful. As long as they could find a way back to the main tunnel from here, there was a good chance they would pass the work party without incident.

But just as he thought it, the rails began to ring and rattle. There were carts coming. Reiner groaned. 'Speak of evil...'

There was a small side tunnel up ahead. Reiner pointed to it. 'In there. It has no rails.' They hurried into it. It ended after thirty paces in a round, dug-out area with no other exit - a dead end.

'Right,' said Reiner. 'We'll wait here until they pass.'

The echoing rumble of wheels grew suddenly louder, and the torch glow much brighter, as if the approaching carts had turned a corner. The men faced back to the wide corridor, hands on their weapons. Giano shuttered his lantern and hid it behind him. As they watched, a procession of four heavily loaded carts passed by their hiding place. A Kurgan guard followed the carts, torch in one hand and a huge hound on a leash snuffling along at his side.

The Kurgan walked on, kicking pebbles, but the hound stopped, sniffing at the mouth of the tunnel. The Kurgan tugged on his leash, but the hound refused to move.

Reiner's shoulders tensed. 'Go,' he whispered under his breath. 'Go. Go!'

The Kurgan stopped and cursed the hound, jerking its leash. The hound snarled at him, then began barking down the corridor.

'Sigmar curse you, heathen,' muttered Hals. 'Beat that cur. Make him heel.'

But the Kurgan had decided that the hound was on to something and came forward warily, the hound still barking and straining at his leash.

Reiner and the rest backed out of sight into the round chamber. 'Better kill 'em quick,' whispered Reiner, drawing his sword. 'But no guns, or they'll all be down on us.'

The others armed themselves.

'We should draw 'em in,' said Hals. 'Get 'em from all sides.'

'Good idea,' said Reiner. 'Franz, you're the bait.'

'What?' said Franz, confused.

Reiner shoved the boy hard between the shoulder blades. He stumbled out of cover and froze like a rabbit, staring up the tunnel at the advancing Kurgan in wide-eyed terror. The Kurgan roared a challenge and ran forward, dropping the hound's leash and drawing a hand axe.

The hound bounded forward, baying savagely. Franz scurried for the back wall. 'You bastard!' he shrieked at Reiner. 'You dirty bastard!'

Pavel stuck his spear out across the opening at ankle height as the Kurgan and the hound charged in. The beast leapt it easily, but the norther fell flat on his face and Hals, Giano and Reiner stuck him with their spears and swords. Ulf swung his maul at the hound and knocked it sideways as it lunged at Franz.

The monster landed, snarling, and spun to meet this new threat. Ulf raised his hammer as it leapt, and jammed the haft between its gaping jaws, stopping its fangs from reaching his neck, but the beast was so massive it knocked the big man flat and began raking at him with its claws.

The Kurgan surged up, screaming fury and bleeding from three grievous wounds. Reiner was afraid they had another iron-skinned berserker on their hands, but fortunately, though as big as a bull, the guard was no chosen champion, only a ranker, stuck in the mines guarding slaves while others won glory on the fields of honour. Reiner chopped halfway through his windpipe and he died on his knees, breathing his last through his neck.

The hound was another matter. Franz and Oskar were slashing at it with their swords, but their blows couldn't penetrate the beast's matted coat. Ulf, on his back under the monster, was forcing its head back with the haft of his maul, but his straining arms were being shredded by its claws.

Reiner ran forward with Hals and Pavel. Giano dropped his sword and unslung his crossbow, drawing a bolt from his quiver. Gustaf kept out of the way, as usual.

Reiner slashed at the hound's back legs, severing its left hamstring. It howled and turned, but fell as it put weight on its dead leg. Pavel and Hals gored it in the side with their spears. Still it fought, twisting so savagely that Pavel's spear was wrenched out of his fever-weakened hands and cracked Hals in the forehead. The hound lunged for the dazed pikeman, but Ulf, freed of its weight, clubbed it with all his might, square on its spinal ridge. It dropped flat, its legs splayed. Giano stepped forward and fired his crossbow point blank. The bolt pinned the monster's head to the ground. It died in a spreading pool of blood.

'Nice work, lads,' said Reiner. 'Ulf, are you badly hurt? Hals?'

'Just a little swimmy, captain,' said Hals. 'It'll pass.'

'I've had worse,' said Ulf, grimacing as he examined his lacerated biceps. 'But not by much.'

'Just coming,' said Gustaf. He began opening his kit.

Reiner looked toward the corridor, listening for reinforcements, and froze, heart thudding, as he saw half a dozen faces looking back at him. The slaves were peering anxiously down the tunnel at them. Reiner had forgotten all about them.

'What do we do about that lot?' asked Hals, joining him.

Pavel looked up. 'Poor devils.'

'We must free them!' said Franz. 'Bring them with us.'

'You crazy, boy,' said Giano. 'They slow us down. We no make it.'

'But we can't leave 'em here,' said Pavel. 'The Kurgan'd kill 'em sure.'

Ulf grunted as Gustaf cleaned his wounds. 'The Kurgan will kill them regardless, whether now or later.'

'It's your decision, captain,' said Hals.

Reiner cursed under his breath. 'This is exactly why I don't want to lead. There is no good decision here.'

He chewed his lip, thinking, but whichever way he turned it, it was bad.

'Your best course is to put them out of their misery,' said Gustaf. 'They are no longer men.'

'What does a monster know of men?' spit Hals.

Reiner wanted to punch Gustaf, not for being wrong, but for being right. The surgeon always took the bleakest view of every situation, had the most cynical view of human nature, and so often turned out to be one Reiner should have listened to. Killing themwould be best. The slaves were too weak to keep up, and would stretch their food supply much too thin, but Reiner could feel Franz's eyes hot upon him, and Pavel's one-eyed gaze as well, and couldn't give the order.

'We... we'll free them, and... and offer them the choice to follow us or not.' He flushed as he said it, for it was a horrible equivocation, a mere sop to common sense. What other choice did the slaves have? He was dooming the men who depended on him because he hadn't the heart to kill men who were virtually dead already.

Franz and Pavel nodded, satisfied, but Gustaf made a disgusted sound and Giano groaned. The rest looked non-committal. Reiner fished the keys from the dead Kurgan's belt and started down the tunnel to the larger corridor.

Franz fell in beside him. 'That was a rotten trick just then, pushing me into danger.'

Reiner's teeth clenched. He was tired of feeling guilty. 'I had faith in you.'

'But I've lost a little in you,' the boy countered, then shrugged. 'Though you do a brave thing here.'

'I do a foolish thing here.'

The slaves edged warily back as Reiner and his men came out of the tunnel. There were sixteen of them, four teams to push the four carts, which were filled with waste rock. Each starveling quartet was shackled together at the ankles.

Reiner held up the keys. 'Don't be afraid. We're going to free you.'

The slaves stared, uncomprehending, and flinched back again as he approached them.

'Hold still.'

The slaves did as they were told. Commands seemed the only speech they understood. Reiner squatted and unlocked the four locks in turn. Franz and Pavel followed behind him, pulling the chain that linked them out through the slaves' shackles until all were free.

Reiner faced them. 'There you are. You are slaves no more. We welcome you to follow us to freedom, or... or to take what path you think best.'

The slaves blinked at him, eyes blank. Reiner coughed. What was wrong with them? Were they deaf? 'Do you understand? You're free. You can travel with us if you wish.'

One of the slaves, a woman with no hair, began to weep, a dry, scratchy sound.

'It's a trick,' said another. 'They mean to trap us again.'

'Stop torturing us!' cried a third.

'It isn't a trick,' said Franz, as the slaves whispered among themselves. 'You are truly free.'

'Don't listen to them!' said the slave who had first spoken. 'They only mean to catch us out. Go back to the work face! Warn the masters!'

He backed away from Reiner and began running back down the corridor. The others ran with him, like sheep running because other sheep were running.

'Curse it!' growled Reiner. 'Stop!' He grabbed at a fleeing slave, but the skeletal man squirmed out of his fingers. 'Stop them!' he called to the others.

'What are they doing?' asked Franz, confounded, as the others tried to corral the slaves. 'Why are they running?'

'They are lost, as I told you,' said Gustaf, sneering.

Pavel, Hals, Oskar and Giano grabbed a handful of the slaves and pushed them to the floor, but more were disappearing into darkness.

'Never mind why,' said Reiner, running down the hall. 'We have to shut them up before they bring their overseers down on us. Giano, bring the lantern!'

Reiner and Franz chased the slaves with Giano, Ulf and Hals running behind them, Giano's slotted lantern throwing dancing bars of light on the uneven walls. Reiner was surprised at how fast the slaves moved. He thought they would be weak from starvation, but it seemed that their constant labour had given them a wiry strength, and Reiner and the others had difficulty keeping up, let alone catching up, for the slaves seemed to know every inch of the tunnels in the dark.

'Come back, curse you!' he called after them, but this order they did not follow.

The slaves reached the main corridor and turned right. As he angled in behind them, Reiner could see the glow of torches up ahead. He put on a burst of speed and caught the last slave around the neck, bringing him down.

The slave cried out. The others leapt ahead, wailing, and scattered. Some continued down the main corridor. Some swerved into side corridors. All started shouting as loud as their rusty voices would allow.

'Masters! Masters! Help!'

'Interlopers, masters! Protect us!'

'They have killed our overseer!'

Franz darted into the first side corridor after two slaves, but Reiner collared him and pulled him back.

'Don't be a fool! We must stick together.'

'Too late anyway,' sighed Giano, as hounds began to bay and harsh Kurgan orders echoed through the tunnels. The thud of heavy boots began to converge on them.

Reiner groaned. 'Back to the others, quick.'

He turned and started running back down the corridor. Franz, Giano, Oskar and Hals following in his wake.

Franz seemed almost on the point of tears. 'Why did they do it? We only wanted to help them.'

'Been underground so long,' said Hals, 'they believe no more in the sun.'

'I don't understand,' Franz wailed.

'I'll explain it to you if we live,' said Reiner. 'Now run.'

They sprinted back toward where they had left the others. The Kurgan were too big to move quickly, and did not gain on them, but the hounds were faster than horses. Reiner could hear their baying coming closer and closer. At last he rounded a bend in the corridor and saw Pavel, Oskar, and Gustaf by the mine carts, standing guard over the slaves they had caught.

'Run!' called Reiner.

'Up, you lot,' growled Pavel to the slaves, prodding them with his spear. 'Get moving.'

But when he and Oskar let them up the slaves ran toward Reiner and his companions. Reiner tried to stop one as she ran by, as did Franz, but the slaves dodged away from them and ran on, toward the hounds.

'The fools,' sobbed Franz.

The company squeezed past the mine carts. Screams of agony and animal snarls echoed from behind. Reiner felt a stab of self-loathing as he found himself hoping that the hounds would stop to eat the slaves that he had gone to such pains to free only moments earlier. This did not appear to be the case, for the baying and shouting continued to grow louder.

They rounded another bend and Giano fell sprawling over some loose rock. The lantern bounced out of his hand and smashed on the rail. The flame went out. Total darkness closed over them. They jumbled to a stop.

'Myrmidia curse me!' cried Giano.

'No one move,' said Reiner as the baying and running boots echoed ever closer. 'All hold hands. If you are not holding a hand, speak up.'

He stretched out and took a rough hand. He had no idea who it was.

'I stand alone,' said Gustaf.

'You certainly do, mate,' said Hals.

Reiner reached toward Gustaf's voice. 'Take my hand.'

Gustaf's soft fleshy hand batted at his, then caught it.

'Hurry!' wailed Oskar. 'They're coming!'

Reiner looked back. Far down the corridor, huge hound shadows bounded and swooped along the walls. Then the hounds themselves came into view, massive black silhouettes running ahead of the Chaos troops' torches.

Reiner turned and ran, forgetting to give an order. There was no need. The rest ran with him, blind as bats, whimpering in their throats. They all knew it was useless to run, but it was impossible not to. Fear drove their legs, not thought - the primal instinct for flight in the face of certain death.

Reiner tripped over the rails, caught himself, and crowded against the wall to avoid the ties. He could hear Gustaf wheezing and stumbling behind him, and not twenty paces behind him, the panting and snarling of the hounds.

So this was it, Reiner thought. He was going to die, lost to all he loved and all who loved him, in a black tunnel under the Middle Mountains, eaten by monstrous hounds. The things he had yet to do crowded into his head, all the money he hadn't yet won or spent, all the women he had yet to bed, books unread, the loves unloved. He found himself weeping with regret. It had all been so damned useless, the whole horrible journey - his whole life.

Franz shrieked from the back of the line. Ulf roared something incoherent and Reiner heard an impact and an animal yelp. He looked back, but there was little to see except leaping shadows and bobbing torches in the distance.

'Franz?'

The boy's answer was lost as, at the head of the line, Giano screamed. His scream was repeated by Pavel and Hals. And there was a sound of rattling pebbles and strange echoes. Reiner tried to halt before he ran into the hidden danger, but Gustaf, Ulf and Franz piled into him from behind, sending him flying forward again.

'Wait!' he cried. 'Something...'

His left foot came down on empty air. He yelled in surprise and threw his hands out, expecting to hit the tunnel floor face first. His hands touched nothing. There was nothing below him.

He was falling into a bottomless void.

THIRTEEN

All Is Not Entirely Lost

The fall was just long enough to allow Reiner to wonder how far down the bottom was, and to tense for the inevitable fatal bone-shattering, organ-exploding impact. But when it came at last it was less of a slam than a slide.

Not that it wasn't painful.

Reiner's first thought was that he was scraping against the cliff he was falling past, but the surface that was abrading his clothes was loose and crumbly and slid with him. It quickly turned into an almost perpendicular slope, made up of gravel, dirt and large rocks. Reiner caught one of these amidships and curled up in blinding pain. He began rolling and bouncing down the slope at breakneck speed, scraping and bashing his elbows and knees and shoulders. His brain bounced around in his head until he had no idea which way was up, if he was alive or dead, broken or whole. Only half conscious, he buried his head in his arms as the angle of the slope began to grow less acute and the speed of his fall to lessen.

He was just slowing to a stop, sliding down the mound, half buried in an avalanche of gravel, and thinking that he might possibly have survived, when a body dropped on his chest, crushing his ribs, and bounced away again, grunting. Reiner gasped, but couldn't draw a breath. It felt as if his lungs were locked in a vice.

A second body, lighter, but bonier, landed on his face. A knee cracked him in the nose and blood flooded his mouth. He slid at last to a stop, sucking air and spitting blood. All around him weak voices moaned and cried in pain. There were lights dancing in the centre of his vision. At first he thought they were after effects of the fall, but then he realised that they were torches, about as far above him as the top of a castle wall. He would have sworn he had fallen much farther than that. The Kurgan were looking down into the void to see what had become of them. He thought he heard them laughing. He doubted they could see anything.

'N...' He tried to speak and failed. He hadn't enough breath. After a moment he tried again. 'No one... strike... a light. Wait.'

He heard a hacking chuckle from nearby. 'No fear of that, captain,' said Hals. 'Dead men got no use for torches.'

After a moment the torches disappeared and they were left in total darkness.

'Unfortunately,' said Reiner at last, 'we appear to still live. If you've your flint handy, Hals?'

'Aye, captain.'

Reiner heard him shift around, then hiss in sudden pain. 'Ah, Sigmar's blood! I think I've bust my leg.'

'Any more hurt?' asked Reiner, though he was afraid to ask. 'Pavel?'

There was a muffled reply, then a curse. 'I've lost a bloody tooth.'

'Oskar?'

'I... I know not. I don't feel much of anything.'

'Franz? Did that monster get you?'

'I... I'm fine.'

'Ulf?'

There was no reply.

'Ulf?'

Silence.

'Just a moment, sir,' said Hals. 'Light's on its way.'

Reiner resumed the roll call. 'Gustaf?'

'I've lost some skin, that's all.'

'That's a relief. I hope you haven't lost your kit.'

'I have it.'

'Giano?'

'A rock, she cut me. I bleed a lot, I think.'

Light flashed as Hals struck sparks off his flint, followed by a steady glow as his tinder started. He touched it to a taper.

Reiner raised his head. His face felt twice as big as it ought to be, and twice as heavy. He looked around, squinting in the yellow light. The men were strewn like broken dolls at the base of a huge scree of gravel and loose rock that rose up into the darkness above them. This was obviously where the slaves dumped the waste rock they chipped away as they mined the ore. He looked at the men one by one.

Pavel was sitting up, holding his mouth, his fingers dripping blood. Hals was near him, holding aloft the candle. One of his legs was bent at an angle. Franz lay further down the slope, curled up and clutching his side. Reiner couldn't see the boy's face, but he seemed to be trembling. Oskar lay flat on his back staring straight up. He held one of his arms against his chest. Gustaf was hunched over his pack, sorting out his supplies. His canvas jacket was ripped to shreds on his left side, as was the skin under it. He bled from a hundred minor lacerations. Giano sat, naked to the waist, pressing a cut in his thigh with his shirt. His arms, shoulders and chest were mottled with blossoming bruises. Reiner was certain that all of them looked just the same under their clothes. Ulf he found at last, at the edge of the candle light, a motionless mass lying on his side at the base of the mound.

'Gustaf,' said Reiner, lowering his head again. 'Could you see if Master Urquart still lives.'

'Aye.'

Gustaf made his way cautiously down the slope, slipping and sinking into the loose gravel. He bent over Ulf, touching his neck and chest, and peeling back his eyelids. 'He lives,' he said. 'But he has struck his head. I don't know when he will wake. It is possible he won't.'

Reiner groaned. Just what they needed.

"Tis a miracle,' said Pavel unclearly, as Gustaf climbed the slope again to Giano, who was bleeding the most. 'All of us alive. Sigmar must be watching over us.'

'If Sigmar was watching over us,' said Hals dryly as he lit a torch from the taper, 'he wouldn't have let us fall off the cursed cliff in the first place.'

'If your hammer god care one bit of damn for us,' spat Giano, 'he not let us take this fooling mission.'

'I can't work here,' said Gustaf. He had tied off Giano's gash, but his kit was sliding away down the slope, and he was sunk in almost to his knees. 'We must find somewhere flat.'

With a groan Reiner sat up and looked around as Hals's torch flared to life and the others began slowly and painfully to stand. The hole they had fallen into was a natural crevasse, deep and wide, that wandered off into darkness to their left and right. The hill of gravel they lay on spread out in a semi-circle across an uneven mud floor that made Reiner think water ran through the chasm occasionally. He was wondering if one direction was better than the other when he noticed that there was a circular opening in the opposite wall of the crevasse. More decisions. Which way was best?

Then he remembered that he had Veirt's compass, taken from his dead body, in his belt pouch. He took it out and frowned at it. South pointed almost directly at the circular opening. 'Try in there,' he said, pointing to it.

Pavel began helping Hals down the slope, arms over each other's shoulder, both of them hissing and grunting in pain. Reiner felt as bad as they sounded. His ribs ached with every breath, and every joint seemed to have its own separate and particular pain. He and Giano opened a blanket and rolled Ulfs supine body onto it, then, with Gustaf's help, they pulled the blanket and Ulf down to the floor.

Oskar and Franz brought up the rear, Oskar holding his left arm with his right, Franz clutching his ribs and crabbing along, almost bent double. His jacket was torn at the back, and his breeks, below it, were turning black with blood.

'Lad,' said Reiner. 'Are you certain you're well?'

'It's nothing,' the boy grunted between clenched teeth. 'Nothing.'

Dragging Ulf across the dried mud floor took quite an effort and Reiner's ribs and muscles complained mightily, but it got easier once they entered the tunnel. Though crudely worked, it was almost perfectly circular, and the floor was worn smooth from what must have been centuries of traffic. Adding to the slickness was a hard, oily coating that covered everything like a glaze. It was as if the whole tunnel had been varnished. Reiner was repulsed by the feel of it, yet it made pulling Ulf almost effortless.

Giano sniffed suspiciously. 'Smell of ratmen.'

Reiner chuckled. 'Don't be a fool, man. Ratmen are a myth.'

'Is not true. They live.'

Pavel smirked back over his shoulder. 'Giant rats that talk? Come on, Tilean. What do y'take us for?'

Giano pulled himself up, insulted. 'They live, I tell you. My whole village they kill. My mama and papa. Come out of ground and kill everybodies. I have swear vengeance upon them.'

'Bit difficult, seeing as they don't exist.'

Giano sniffed. 'Men of Empire think they know everythings.'

'Captain,' called Hals. 'Found a room of sorts. Might do for a surgery.'

He was sticking his torch into a round opening in the tunnel wall. Letting go of Ulf's makeshift stretcher, Reiner joined him and looked in. The hole opened into a round, curve-walled chamber with eight smaller chambers branching off it like the fingers of a glove. Reiner took the torch from Hals and stepped in. A chill ran up his spine. At some time in the past the chamber had been occupied, though by who or what he couldn't say. The walls were carved with jagged, geometric reliefs that Reiner could make neither head nor tail of. A few warped wooden shelves leaned against them, with a scattering of cracked clay jugs and bowls upon them. Reiner poked the torch into each of the eight chambers. They were small and nearly circular, the floors calf deep in scraps of cloth and straw. Reiner wrinkled his nose. They smelled of dust and animal musk. The whole place gave him an uneasy feeling, but it was dry and flat and there appeared to be no danger.

'Excellent,' he said with more enthusiasm than he felt. He waved the others forward. 'Come on, in we go.'

Pavel and Hals limped in first, followed by Gustaf and Giano, dragging Ulf. Giano grimaced. 'You see. Ratmen. We find nest.'

'You don't know that,' said Reiner. 'Anybody could have made these holes.'

'Looks more like orc work,' said Gustaf, toeing aside a broken jug. 'Crude stuff.'

Pavel and Hals exchanged a nervous look.

'Only orcs?' said Hals dryly. 'That's a relief.'

'Can you no see?' asked Giano, pointing at the walls. 'Look. Rat faces. Rat bodies.'

Reiner looked at the reliefs again as Franz and Oskar entered. The designs might have been rat heads with wide-set eyes and sharp fangs, but they were so abstract and poorly carved that they might have been anything.

He waved a dismissive hand. 'Orcs or ratmen, whoever lived here is long gone.' He stuck his torch upright in the mouth of an unbroken urn and turned to Gustaf. 'Surgeon, what do you need of us?' He was trying his best to be bright and efficient like a good captain should, but his head ached abominably and his stomach was churning from all the blood that ran from his nose down the back of his throat.

Gustaf left Ulf on his blanket in the centre of the floor and opened his kit. 'Decide who is most injured. I will work from worst to least. If someone can break down these shelves for splints it would be a help. And if someone can sacrifice a shirt, I am running short of bandages.'

'I think Franz must be seen to first,' said Reiner. 'He is losing blood.'

'No!' said the boy, white-lipped. 'I am fine. I can attend to myself.' He limped hurriedly to one of the little chambers and disappeared inside.

'Come back here, you little brat,' barked Reiner. 'You are in no way fine.' With a grunt of annoyance he followed the boy into the room.

Franz was bracing himself against the wall with one trembling arm, his head bowed to his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he pressed his left elbow against his side. The cloth of his shirt made a wet, squelching sound. 'Get out!' he gasped. 'Leave me be.'

Reiner glared at him. 'Don't be a fool, lad. You're grievously injured. You must let Gustaf have a look at you.'

'No,' whimpered Franz. 'He... he mustn't. No one...'

'But lad, you...'

The boy's knees gave way and he slid down the wall to sprawl on the floor.

'Curse it,' said Reiner. He returned to the main chamber. 'Surgeon, the boy's collapsed.'

Gustaf rose from examining Oskar's wrist. 'I'll see to him.' As he passed Reiner, he raised an eyebrow. 'Your nose is on sideways, captain. I believe you've broken it.'

Reiner raised his hand to his face. 'Ah. That would explain why my head feels as big as a melon.'

'I'll set it momentarily,' said the surgeon. 'In the meantime, if you could rip your shirt into strips.' He ducked into the small chamber with his kit.

Reiner joined the others on the floor and took off his jerkin and shirt. The air in the chamber was stuffy, but much warmer than that in the mine. It was almost comfortable. Hals was sawing at his spear with his dagger, trying to fashion it into a crutch. Giano was breaking the shelves into usable lengths. Oskar rocked back and forth, holding his arm. Pavel was pressing a rag of shirt against his mouth. His upper lip was split to his nose and bleeding freely.

He grinned at Reiner, showing red teeth. 'And I didn't think I could get any uglier.'

'Maybe y'll lose the other eye,' said Hals. 'So y'won't have to look at yerself.'

Pavel chuckled. 'I can only hope.'

After a short time Gustaf returned. Reiner thought there was something odd about his expression, a suppressed smirk possibly, but the surgeon always looked like he was stifling an evil thought, so he couldn't be sure.

'How's the boy,' Reiner asked.

Gustaf's smirk broadened for a moment, then disappeared. 'He sleeps. I gave him a draught. He was clawed along the ribs by the hound, then a sharp stone became lodged in the wound during the fall. Very painful. I removed the stone and bound the wound. He will be weak for a while, but he will live.' He snorted. 'If any of us do.'

'Brave little fool,' said Reiner with grudging respect. 'He tries too hard to be hard.'

'Yes,' said Gustaf, then crossed to Pavel and took out a needle and thread.

Just as he crouched down, Ulf suddenly jack-knifed into a sitting position, flailing and roaring. 'The beasts! The beasts!' He clubbed Gustaf and Oskar with his wild swings. The others edged away from him.

Reiner stood. 'Ulf! Urquart! Calm yourself. The hounds are gone.'

Ulfs fists slowed and he blinked around him. 'What...?'

'We fell. You don't remember?'

'I... I thought... '

'You've hit your head,' said Gustaf, as he recovered himself. 'How do you feel?'

Ulf rubbed his eyes. He swayed where he sat, as if drunk. 'My head hurts. Eyes blurry. We fell?'

'Down a tailings pit,' said Reiner. 'We're all hurt.'

'But at least we escaped the hounds!' laughed Hals.

Gustaf looked in Ulf's eyes. 'You are concussed. Let me know if your vision fails to improve.' He returned to stitching up Pavel's lip.

'But where are we?' asked Ulf, suddenly anxious. 'Where is the Kurgan warband? Have we lost them? Can we get back to where we were? Are we lost in here?'

'Shut up, fool!' shouted Reiner. 'I don't need two Oskars on my hands. Gustaf will run out of elixir.'

He groaned. The engineer had said too much. He could see anxiety spreading from face to face.

'Calm yourselves,' he said. 'All of you. Yes we're in a tight spot, but as Hals just said, we have escaped the hounds, so we're better off than we were, right? Now, I don't know where the warband is from here, or where here is for that matter, but someone made these tunnels. They must lead somewhere.' He fished out Veirt's compass again. 'And for the moment they lead south, which is the way we want to go, so all is not entirely lost.'

He closed his eyes for a second and almost forgot to open them again, he was so weary. 'I say we rest here,' he said at last. 'There are rooms for all of us. When our surgeon has finished doctoring us we will turn in, and decide a course of action when we wake and can think straight, fair enough?'

He sighed with relief as he saw the men nodding and calming themselves. 'Good. We'll set two watches. I'll take the second if someone feels up to taking the first.'

'I will,' said Gustaf quickly. 'I am the least wounded of all of us.'

Reiner nodded his thanks, though he was slightly puzzled. The surgeon had never volunteered for watch before.

They made a curious discovery after Gustaf had bound and set all their wounds and breaks and they had settled into the eight little rooms. The darkness was no longer absolute. They had expected to be plunged into blackness once Gustaf stationed himself in the main room and snuffed the torch, but a faint light, so dim they were at first not sure it was there, illuminated the chambers. The greenish luminescence seemed to come from the walls, or more accurately, from the slick glaze that covered the walls.

'That's a small blessing,' said Pavel from his and Hals's chamber.

Yes, thought Reiner, as he lowered his head carefully into his nest of smelly rags. At least we will be able to see what ever cyclopean horror slithers out of the tunnels and kills us.

An agonised scream jerked Reiner from a dream of dicing with a mysterious opponent. He knew the fellow was using loaded dice, and yet he kept playing, kept betting, though he lost every time.

He blinked around in the green murk, for a moment at a loss as to where he was. The scream came again. He recognised it as Gustaf's voice this time. Gustaf! Gustaf was on watch. They were under attack! He jumped up and grabbed his sword, and almost fell again, his body ached so much in so many places. It felt like he was bound in iron ropes that tightened with each movement.

He forced himself to move through the pain and stumbled out into the main chamber. The others were peeking out of their rooms as well, weapons in hand. Oskar wasn't there.

Reiner limped to the tunnel, but a horrible rattling groan echoing from Franz's chamber stopped him. Reiner turned, and he and the others crowded into it, ready to fight.

A confusing tableau met their eyes. Franz was pressed against the wall, eyes wild, one hand holding his jerkin closed, the other gripping a bloody dagger. Gustaf lay at his feet in a pool of red, clutching at a wound in his throat that would never close. As Reiner watched, his arms relaxed and flopped loosely to the ground. The room filled with the smell of urine.

'Sigmar's holy hammer, boy!' said Reiner, aghast. 'What have you done?'

'He...' said Franz. He seemed not quite awake.

'He's killed our only hope of getting out of here, is what he's done,' growled Hals angrily. 'Stupid little fool! I ought to ring your neck!'

Franz hugged himself. 'He tried to... to put his hands on me.'

'That again?' said Hals. 'Well it won't fly, lad. You were with us when Gustaf went after that poor girl. He don't care for boys, no matter how unmanly they are.'

'Who care what the fellow do!' cried Giano. 'If he want to eat you, you give him you arm. We need him. How we be now if he not fix us up, eh?' He spat on Franz's boots.

'Gustaf knew the way out,' said a voice behind them. It was Oskar, clinging to the wall, looking too alert for his own good. 'You remember. There was some obstacle further on. He wouldn't tell us.'

'He wouldn't tell us, so we wouldn't kill him,' said Hals. 'And now this fool has gone and killed him!' He balled his fists. 'I think it's time we show this mewling baby what it means to be a man. I say we give him a few hard lessons, hey?'

'No!' said Reiner. 'We're all hurt enough as it is. It's a bad thing he's done, I admit. But we need all the hands we have, and...'

'Shhhh!' said Ulf, from the door. 'Do you hear something?'

They all fell silent and listened. There was something, more a vibration in the rock than a heard sound.

'Into the tunnel,' said Reiner.

They tiptoed into the hall, leaving Franz with Gustaf's corpse, and stood, ears cocked.

The sound was louder here, a rumbling murmur. The vibrations seemed to be coming from above them and far forward. There was a song over the murmur, a harsh, angry chant.

'The warband!' said Oskar. 'It must be!'

Pavel grinned. 'Never thought I'd be glad to hear Kurgan marching.'

Reiner smiled. 'Right then, get your gear together. We leave immediately.'

They re-entered the round room. 'Go when you're packed,' said Reiner, stepping to Franz's chamber. 'I'll be along shortly. I want a word alone with young Master Shoentag.' 'Aye, captain,' said Hals.

Reiner entered the chamber as the others began collecting their things. The boy was inching painfully into his leather doublet, teeth clenched, his feet pulled fastidiously back from the puddle of blood spreading from beneath Gustaf's corpse.

Reiner folded his arms and leaned against the wall. 'All right, laddie. Let's have it.'

Franz glanced up at him, then away. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Don't play the fool with me, boy. I know there's more to this than there appears. Hals was right. Gustaf fancied girls, not boys, so your excuse won't work this time. What did he want from you? Was he blackmailing you?'

'No,' Franz said, surly. 'Why... why would he?'

'That's for you to tell me. My guess is he found out something about you while he was doctoring you. Some secret you want hidden.'

The boy, clutched his knees and stared at the floor. He didn't answer.

'Come now, lad,' said Reiner kindly, 'I'm no raving Sigmarite. I'll not turn you over to the witch hunters, but if I'm to lead you well, I need to know who I'm leading: your strengths, your weaknesses, the little things from your past that might trip us up in the future?'

Franz just sniffed miserably.

'So what is it?' Reiner asked. 'Do you bear the brand of some heathen god upon you? Are you warp-touched? Have you a second pair of arms? Or a mouth in your belly? Are you a lover of men?'

'I can't tell you,' said Franz. 'I can't.'

'Oh come, it can't be worse than what I've just said. Just tell me and be done with it.'

Franz's shoulders slumped. His head touched his knees. Then, with a sigh, he climbed painfully to his feet. He looked to the door. The others were filing into the tunnel. When they were gone he turned to Reiner. 'Do you promise to tell no one.'

'I make no promises, boy, so I never have to break any. But I can keep a secret, if there's a reason to.'

Franz frowned at this, then sighed again. With reluctant hands he undid the ties that held his shirt together and pulled it open. His chest was bandaged from his armpits to his belly.

Reiner grimaced. 'Were you wounded so badly?'

'The wound is bad,' said Franz, 'but the bandages are only partly for the wound.' And with eyes lowered he tugged the tight bindings down to his ribs.

Reiner gaped. The boywas deformed! Two plump pink protuberances rose from his chest. By the gods, Reiner thought, the poor lad truly was warp-touched. It almost looked as if he had...

'Sigmar's balls! You're a girl!'

FOURTEEN

Come Taste Imperial Steel

'Shhh!' whispered the girl harshly as she tugged her bandages back into place. 'Please don't betray me! I beg you!'

'Betray you?' said Reiner. 'I ought to thrash you!' Reiner was deeply chagrined. How could he, a connoisseur of womanhood in all its forms, have been fooled this way? How could he not have known? Now that the truth was revealed it was so obvious as to be painful. The beardless jaw, the slight frame, the full lips, the large, dark eyes. Why, he had seen girls disguised as boys in plays who were more convincing. It must have been, he decided, the audacity of the thing that had made it possible. A man simply could not accept that a woman would disguise herself as a soldier, or could live a soldier's life, so any faults in the charade, any uncertainties about her sex, were dismissed before they could be considered, because one would never even think to contemplate that a soldier could be a woman.

He shook his head. 'What do you mean by this foolishness, you lunatic child? What possessed you to engage in this pitiful charade?'

The girl raised her chin. 'I do my duty. I protect my homeland.'

'Your duty as a woman is to give birth to more soldiers, not to take up arms yourself.'

The girl sneered. 'Really? And do the harlots you consort with in the brothels of Altdorf perform such a duty?'

The question caught Reiner off guard. He expected the girl to cower before him, not counter his arguments. 'Er, some do, I suppose. I'm certain they do. But that's beside the point. What you have done is a perversion. An outrage!'

'You sound like a fanatical priest. I thought you were a man of the world. A sophisticate.'

Reiner flushed. She was right. In the theatres and brothels he had frequented before being called up he had known women who dressed like men and men who dressed like women and had thought little of it. He was more outraged at being tricked than by what she had done. But he was still troubled. 'But women aren't cut out to be soldiers! They are too weak. They can't do the work required. They haven't the stomach for killing.'

The girl drew herself up. 'Have you found my soldiering lacking? Did I lag behind on the trail? Did I shirk my duties? Did I flinch from danger? I admit I am not strong, and I am nothing with a sword, but what bowman is? Was I less of a soldier for that?'

'You were,' said Reiner, feeling at last on solid ground. 'For look at the trouble you've caused. The nonsense about not sharing a tent, not allowing a surgeon to heal you. And you have killed fellow soldiers twice to keep them from revealing your secret - the poor fellow you were jailed for murdering, and now Gustaf.'

'I did not kill them to keep my secret,' said the girl sharply. 'I would have been angry at them had they betrayed me, but I wouldn't have killed them.' She looked Reiner in the eye. 'I told the truth in our prison. When my tentmate learned my sex, he attempted to force himself upon me, thinking I would do his will in order to keep him quiet.' She shivered. 'Gustaf tried the same, only worse. He said he would give me another reason for my bandages. He tried to cut me, with his scalpel, as he had that poor girl.'

Reiner winced. 'The monster.' He looked up at the girl. 'But, you realise, if you had been a man, neither of them would have tried anything. The temptation would not have been there.'

The girl clenched her fists. 'No. They would have only assaulted peasant girls and harlots instead, and no one would have stopped them!' She calmed herself and hung her head. 'Forgive me. I forget myself. I know I don't belong in the army - that my presence is a disruption, a crime.' She looked up at Reiner pleadingly. 'But are we all not criminals? Are we not a band of outlaws? Must you cast me out for it? In all other things I am a good soldier. I beg you, don't tell the others. I couldn't bear it if they turned on me, or worse, treated me like a porcelain doll. Let me serve out at least this mission. When we return to the Empire, you may do as you wish. I will make no complaint.'

Reiner stared at the girl for a long time. Revealing the girl's secret would be more of a disruption than keeping it, and yet it went against every instinct he had as a gentleman and a lover of women to allow a girl to fight and come into harm's way. He ground his teeth. He must think as a captain and do the thing that was best for the group, not the individual. It was better for the group to have more fighters and to work smoothly as a unit.

'What's your name, girl?'

'Franka. Franka Mueller.'

Reiner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'That was foolish of me. It would have been much smarter not to know you by any other name than Franz. That way it would be impossible to make a mistake.' He shrugged. 'Ah well, can't be helped. Get your kit together, the rest are getting far ahead.'

Franka looked at him uncertainly. 'So you won't betray me?'

'No, confound you, I won't. I need you. But I make no promises for when we return to civilisation, I hope that's understood.'

Franka saluted smartly, her lips twitching a smile. 'Perfectly, captain. And my thanks.'

Reiner grunted and began gathering up Gustaf's kit, trying to get the image of Franka's naked breasts out of his head. It was going to be difficult thinking of the girl as a lad again.

They caught up to the others a short while later.

Hals shot Franka a dirty look. 'I'm surprised he didn't murder you too, captain. You being alone with him and all.'

'Less of it, pikeman,' said Reiner. 'I've listened to the las... to the lad's story and I believe it. He showed me cuts on his chest like those Gustaf carved into that girl. It seems our surgeon had more wide-ranging tastes than we suspected.'

'That's as may be.' said Pavel. 'But don't expect me to bunk with him.'

The men continued following the distant sounds of marching. There were no stairs in the strange round tunnels, just sharply sloping ramps that connected one level to the other. The ramps were cut with toe holds that seemed to have been placed for beasts with four legs, not two, which set Giano raving about ratmen again. The marching continued to echo down from above them, and they climbed through five levels before the sound began coming from ahead of them.

'Let's increase our pace until we find the cannon tracks.' said Reiner. 'I don't want to miss our way.'

They walked faster, though all were exhausted from their interrupted sleep. Hals hopped gamely on his makeshift crutch, while Giano kept a hand on Ulf's elbow, for the big man hadn't fully recovered his balance after his blow to the head. Oskar shuffled somnambulantly in the middle of the pack, at peace now that Reiner had given him another sip from Gustaf's bottle. The journey was made somewhat easier because they no longer needed torches. The pale green glow of the walls was just enough to see by, though it gave them all a sickly cast that was unpleasant to look at.

A few hours into their march Hals found a broken cleaver discarded in a shallow alcove. It was enormous, the handle so big even Ulf had a hard time closing his fingers around it. There was dried blood caked on its snapped blade.

'Ores.' said Pavel. 'Right enough.'

Hals poked at the crusted blood. It flaked away. 'No way to tell if this was dropped last week or last century.'

Reiner swallowed unhappily. 'Well, we can't be more alert than we already are, can we? Carry on.'

They resumed their march and despite Reiner's words, the men were indeed more alert, looking nervously over their shoulders at every turn and jumping at shadows.

Reiner let the others get a little ahead and walked with Franka. 'I still don't understand how you became a soldier.' he said. 'What possessed you to take up this life?'

Franka sighed. 'Love.'

'Love?'

'I am the daughter of a miller in a town called Hovern. Do you know it?'

'I think so. Just south of Nuln, yes?'

'Aye. My father arranged a marriage for me to the son of a Nuln wheat merchant. He hoped to win a better wholesale price from the boy's father. I, unfortunately was in love with the son of a farmer who came often to our mill with his wheat - Yarl. I didn't like the merchant's son. He was an ass. But my father didn't listen to my wishes.'

'As fathers so often fail to do,' said Reiner wryly, thinking of his own less than understanding father.

'The merchant's son and I were to be married last spring, and I thought I could bear it if I could slip away and see Yarl now and then, but then the hordes began their advance and Yarl was called by Lord von Goss to string his bow in defence of the Empire.' She chuckled bitterly. 'The merchant's son got a dispensation because he and his father were provisioning the army. It came to me suddenly that I would be alone with that puny braggart while Yarl was away fighting, and that... and that Yarl might not come back.'

'Such is the lot of women since the beginning of time,' said Reiner.

'Chaos take the "lot of women", sneered Franka. 'On the eve of my wedding I could stand it no longer. I cut my hair, stole my father's bow, and ran off to Gossheim where Lord von Goss's army was mustering for the march north. I enlisted as Yarl's younger brother Franz and took his last name. It was...' She blushed. 'It was the best six months of my life. We ate together, tented together. Every happiness I dreamed marriage would bring, we had.'

It was Reiner's turn to blush. 'But how did you pass? How did you learn the bow? The ways of the soldier? A life of embroidery and dresses...'

Franka laughed. 'Do you think me a noblewoman? I was a miller's daughter, and not a rich one. My mother had no sons. I milled. I lifted sacks of grain. I haggled and joked with the farmers and the draysmen.'

'But the bow?'

Franka smiled. 'Yarl taught me. He was my playmate from childhood. We ran in the fields. Hunted squirrels on his father's farm. Played at prince and princess. I wanted to do everything he did, so I learned the bow at his side. When he vouched for me at von Goss's camp no one gave me a second look.'

'So how did you come to kill the fellow who...'

Franka hung her head. 'Yarl died. At Vodny Field. Killed by a diseased arrow. I could have run away then, I suppose. Many did. But the idea of returning to the merchant's son and his big house with the big bed and the cowering servants...' she shivered. 'I couldn't face it. And I had come to like the army. Yarl and I had made good friends there. We were a band of brothers...'

'And one sister.' quipped Reiner.

'A band of brothers.' continued Franka, ignoring him. 'United against a great enemy. I felt I had a purpose in life. And with Yarl gone, I needed something to make me want to keep living.' She shook her head. 'I was a fool. I thought I could keep my secret, but of course my captain assigned me a new tent-mate, and it wasn't long before the dog caught me out and... well, you know the rest.'

They walked in silence for a moment.

You are a singular woman.' Reiner said at last.

Franka snorted. 'Aye, that's a word for it.' She stopped and turned suddenly, ear cocked. 'Do you hear...'

Reiner listened behind them and heard it as well. What he had thought of as a faint echo of the Kurgan marching, was growing louder. 'Curse it.' he growled. 'Have we got ahead of them? Or is it a second force on the heels of the first? Are we trapped again?'

They ran to catch up with the others.

'Marchers coming up behind us.' Reiner announced. 'Are you positive the warband is still before us?'

'Can't you hear 'em singing, captain?' asked Hals.

Reiner listened. The dull, two-toned chant was clear. 'Then who in Sigmar's name is behind us?'

'I'll go back, captain.' said Franka.

'No.' said Reiner. 'I forbid it. You aren't...'

'Captain!' Franka interrupted quickly. 'I am recovered from Gustaf's assault. There is no need to treat me with kid gloves.'

'No.' said Reiner, cursing her inwardly. The foolish girl was deliberately trying to force him to put her into danger. 'But you lost more blood than any of us. You are still weak. Giano will scout back. We will continue forward at march pace and leave way marks at any turnings we make.'

Franka stuck her lip out. Giano sighed. 'The thanking I get for be quick on my foots.'

He hurried back down the tunnel as Reiner and the rest continued forward. Franka glared straight ahead as they marched and said not a word. Reiner sighed.

After another quarter hour, they began closing on the Chaos column. The different sounds were becoming distinct from one another. The creak and groan of the cannon's wheels, the monotonous chant of the soldiers, the ragged rumble of hundreds of marching feet. They entered a larger but still perfectly cylindrical tunnel with many branching side tunnels, and found at last the tracks of the great gun carriage, so heavy that it cracked the floor's greenish glaze and turned it to a resinous powder. Reiner used his dagger to scrape an arrow in the tunnel wall to indicate to Giano the direction they were taking and they continued on.

'Cautiously now, men,' he said. 'They're just a few bends ahead.' He shot a look at Franka. 'Er, I'll take the lead. Give me thirty paces.'

Franka sniffed as he crept ahead. They proceeded forward in that fashion until at last Reiner could see the tail of the Kurgan train ahead of him - shambling horned silhouettes against the yellow glow of torches in the distance. He stopped and raised a hand to the others, at once fearful and relieved. It was like following a bear through the woods to find a stream. He didn't want to lose the bear, but letting it know of his presence was suicide.

The others caught up with him.

'Move at this pace,' he said, 'and we should just keep them in...'

Running footsteps interrupted him. The men turned, weapons at the ready. Giano came out of the darkness, wheezing and wild-eyed.

'Greenskins!' he said between gasps. 'Half league back. Almost they see me.'

'Quiet!' whispered Reiner, pointing down the tunnel. 'The Kurgan are just there.'

'They coming fast,' Giano continued more quietly. 'Hunting. Little bands, spreading out, every way?'

'Hunting for us?' asked Reiner.

'Does it matter?' asked Franka.

Hals groaned. 'Trapped again. Sigmar curse this whole enterprise!'

'He has, mate,' said Pavel. 'Trust me.'

'Not trapped yet,' said Reiner. 'We've more tunnels to manoeuvre in here. If we can...'

A rumbling voice called a challenge from down the tunnel.

Reiner jumped. He and the rest turned toward the enemy troops' line of march in time to see Kurgan-shaped shadows step out of a side tunnel fifty paces away. It was hard to tell in the murky green light, but they seemed to be looking their way. Reiner groaned. 'Right. Now we're trapped. Back away, and if they start toward us, run.'

The party backed down the corridor as more Kurgan came out of the side tunnel.

The challenge came again.

'What's the point, captain?' asked Hals. 'We can't outrun 'em, banged up like this. We might as well die gloriously.'

'I'd rather live ingloriously,' said Reiner. 'If it's all the same to you. Come now, speed it up. I have a plan.'

Hals muttered something Reiner couldn't quite hear about 'too many cursed plans' but he hobbled along gamely with the rest of them as they hurried further down the hall.

Their challenge unanswered, the Kurgan came forward cautiously, unslinging axes that glinted green in the eerie glow of the walls. One of them went trotting down the tunnel toward the main force. It seemed to Reiner that the axe-men were being more circumspect than Kurgan had a reputation for, and he wondered if they too knew that there were orcs in the area. He cursed himself for not expecting the Kurgan to have outriders patrolling the line of march. It was something a real captain would have known instinctively.

The men had just reached the side tunnel they'd originally entered from, when a lone Kurgan poked his head out of another tunnel directly behind them. He laughed and called back to the squad derisively. Reiner couldn't understand the words, but the meaning was clear - 'It's only men.'

An answering laugh echoed from the axe squad and Reiner heard them start forward at a trot.

'Run!' cried Reiner, motioning them into the side tunnel. Oskar, Franka and Ulf ran in first, followed by Giano, still winded from his reconnaissance. Pavel and Hals came last, Hals skipping with his crutch and wincing at each step. It was clear to Reiner that Hals would soon fall behind, and that Pavel wouldn't leave his side.

'Ulf! Carry Hals! Pavel, keep Ulf steady!'

'No sir,' protested Hals. 'No man carries me.'

'I have him, sir,' said Pavel. 'We'll keep up.'

'Damn your pride, the both of you,' said Reiner. 'I'll not have you die of it. Ulf!'

The engineer fell back and hoisted Hals onto his back and they ran on, Pavel keeping a hand on the concussed engineer's arm to guide him.

Reiner could hear the axe men turning into the tunnel behind them. They were already gaining. 'Shout, lads!' he bellowed. 'Shout as loud as you can!'

'Hey?' cried Giano, confused. 'You want they find us?'

'Not just them,' said Reiner, then raised his voice to a piercing cry. 'Hoy! Greenies! Fresh meat here! Come and get us!'

'Ah,' said Franka, grinning in spite of herself. 'I see.' She too raised her voice. 'Coo-ee! Pig snouts! Where are you? Come taste Imperial steel!'

Bouncing on Ulfs back, Hals laughed. 'Youare mad, captain! But 'tis my kind of madness.' He began to roar. 'Come on, y'green bastards! Show us what y've got! I'll paint the walls with yer green blood, y'great lumbering cowards!'

Reiner heard an angry roar behind him and the Kurgans' loping gait quickened to a run. It seemed they had guessed Reiner's strategy as well, and were less than happy about it. They were getting closer by the second.

But an answering roar came from before them, and the floor shook with heavy footsteps.

Reiner sent up a silent thanks to Sigmar. 'Eyes out for a side tunnel, lads. We don't want to be pinched between when the hammer hits the anvil.'

'This way, greenskins!' shouted Franka. 'Dinner's on the table!'

'Aie!' cried Giano suddenly. 'They come! Hide!'

Reiner got a quick flash of huge, blurred forms holding enormous black-iron cleavers, before he and the rest ducked into a side corridor.

The Kurgan behind them cried out, but their voices were drowned out almost instantly by a roar of hideous animal triumph from the other direction. Voices that were more like the squealing of angry boars than anything human rose in fury as the orcs charged forward.

The impact as the orcs and the Chaos marauders came together sounded like two iron wagons full of meat slamming into each other at unimaginable speed. It was followed instantly by the clash of cleavers and axes and screams of frenzy and agony. Reiner couldn't resist a look back. All he could see in the uncertain green light were giant, indistinct shapes in violent movement and the slashing gleam of cutting edges rising and falling.

'On, boys, on!' he called. 'Look for a way back to the main.

But Giano was suddenly skidding to a stop. Ulf crashed into him.

'What's the matter?' asked Reiner.

'Yer plan worked too well, laddie,' said Hals, from Ulf's shoulders. 'There's another lot coming.'

Reiner cursed as he saw more lumbering shadows approaching in the distance. Fortunately the area was honeycombed with tunnels and they were able to slip down another passage before the orcs saw them. But now the sound of heavy feet echoed from every direction. There seemed no way to go that wasn't clogged with orcs.

'My genius continues to astound me,' said Reiner through clenched teeth, as they edged down a curving tunnel.

'Oh, you do all right,' said Pavel. 'You always get us out of our tight spots.'

'And into tighter ones,' muttered Hals.

At last they wormed their way through the maze, dodging hurrying squads of orcs and Kurgan as they went, and reached the main tunnel safely. They started after the Kurgan column again, but hadn't taken twenty steps before they saw a detachment of fifty or so Kurgan marauders running toward them, torches bobbing. They were led by a giant in black chainmail skirts, an axeman trotting beside him, pointing out the way. But before the northers could turn into the side tunnel, orcs burst from other tunnels all along their flanks, roaring and squealing, and tore into them, cleavers swinging.

Reiner and the others took refuge in a side corridor and watched awestruck the murderous melee that unfolded before them. It was a swirling chaos of flailing limbs, slashing blades, and flying bodies. The orcs attacked with animal fury, making up for an utter lack of discipline by the brute mass of their charge. The Kurgan, by human standards almost impossibly muscular, were puny in comparison to the orcs, whose mere skeletons probably weighed more than most men. They knocked the Kurgan flat from both sides, and chopped those who fell to pieces with cleavers the size of shields.

The Chaos marauders were marginally more disciplined. After the initial shock of the orc ambush, their captains roared rallying cries and the marauders crowded around them, facing out to make primitive squares. In this posture of defence they formed a whirling wall of steel, huge axes slashing in figure-eights, and severing the hands and arms of any orc who tried to pierce it.

Stymied by this simple manoeuvre, the orcs began hurling things at the Kurgan from a distance. There were very few rocks in the smooth tunnels, so they threw severed heads and limbs and entire bodies, both marauder and orc, then followed up this bombardment with charges. But though flying orc carcasses flattened more than a few Kurgan, the northers were prepared for the charges now, and their skill and the reach of their axes began to turn the tide.

A few more squads of orcs spilled out of the side tunnels and joined the fray, but the Kurgan held their own until a further detachment of marauders came howling down the tunnel. They plowed into the fray like a battering ram, and the orcs quickly lost any stomach for the fight. They scattered into side tunnels like rats fleeing a terrier, leaving their wounded to the tender mercies of the marauders.

Reiner and his men shrunk back, prepared to flee if any of the orcs came their way. None did. Nor did the Kurgan, who didn't bother to pursue their attackers. Instead, they slaughtered the wounded orcs, stripped the bodies of weapons and armour, and marched back toward the main column.

'Men.' said Reiner, letting out a long held breath, 'I think we're back on track.'

The men started forward at an easy pace, following the sounds of the receding Kurgan.

They tailed the warband at a cautious distance until they stopped to make camp. Reiner backed up the tunnel for more than half a league before he felt it safe enough to bed down. He wanted to be well clear of any pickets the marauders might set around their perimeter. The night - if it was night, for there was no telling in the sunless tunnels - passed without incident, and when they woke to the sound of the Kurgan preparing to march again, they did the same, more refreshed than they had been since they entered the endless underworld.

Reiner spooned another dose of poppy into Oskar as they got under way. He hoped that they were nearing the end of the tunnels, for the supply was running low.

As they travelled, side tunnels and doors began to become more numerous, until the underworld felt less like a system of tunnels and more like the halls and rooms of a castle, or the streets and avenues of a city, the chambers between them houses and tenements. More frequent, as well, were the steep ramps that led to higher levels.

'Whoever built these tunnels,' said Reiner, as they looked around them in wonder, 'this was their Altdorf.'

'Maybe thisis Altdorf,' said Oskar dreamily. 'Maybe we are under Karl-Franz Strasse and nearly home.'

Hals snorted. 'Don't be daft, lad. We haven't travelled near that far.'

'It feels like we've half crossed the world,' said Franka with feeling.

'Shhhh, all you,' said Giano, flapping a hand. 'I think they stopping again.'

The company stopped and listened, trying to determine by sound alone what was happening. At this distance it was difficult. They could hear orders being shouted and the sound of great bustle and activity, but a new sound, a deep booming howl that sounded like wind in a canyon, drowned out all the details.

'We'll have to reconnoitre,' said Reiner. 'Maybe we can use the upper levels to spy down on them. Giano, come with me. Franka gave him another dirty look, but there was nothing she could say.

Reiner and Giano climbed a nearby ramp and began to weave their way through a warren of tunnels, galleries and chambers. They passed rooms, and suites of rooms, that had at one time had low wooden doors, but these had long ago been smashed in, and the contents, whatever they might have been, stolen away. At each turning they listened to be sure that the sound of the Kurgan was coming from ahead of them, then crept on.

At last, after climbing to a third level, they turned a corner and torchlight and noise welled out of a round opening before them. Giano motioned for Reiner to drop to his hands and knees and they crawled to the entrance. It opened out onto a wide tier that ringed an enormous circular chamber. There were tiers above and below them, set back like seats in an amphitheatre, with the same steep ramps connecting them at regular intervals. The walls of the tiers were riddled with round holes, most of which led into small rooms, though whether they had been storerooms or dwellings Reiner could not begin to guess.

The floor of the chamber was entirely filled by the Chaos war-band, who were crowded together so tightly they hardly had room to turn around. Most were sitting on their packs, or eating quick meals. The cannon squatted in the middle of them like some bird of prey surrounded by her brood. Reiner edged to the lip of the tier and looked right and left. To the right was the entrance to the chamber, a large black arch into which the tail of the Kurgan column disappeared. These men too sat where they had stopped, waiting with the resignation of soldiers everywhere. To the left was the reason for the wait and the source of the booming sound Reiner and his companions had been hearing since the halt.

It was a wide, swift river, its channel slicing through the left wall of the huge chamber at a shallow angle like a sword cutting through the top of a skull. The rushing current roared like a dragon, crashing against the broken piers of a ruined stone bridge with such force that permanent bow waves rose up around them in great white ruffles. A heavy but clumsily built wooden bridge had been constructed upon these ruins, and it was this that had brought the march to a halt. It was only wide enough to allow three men to march abreast.

A massively armoured warrior was calling the various captains and chieftains forward to lead their squads over the bridge one at a time, while bawling overseers directed slaves as they began pushing and turning the cannon in order to bring it into line.

Reiner groaned as he eyed the narrow crossing. He could see no other way across the river. 'I believe we have at last found Gustafs "obstacle".'

FIFTEEN

Breastplates Won't Be Enough To Save Us

'We have two options, as I see it,' said Reiner when he and Giano returned to the others and gave them the news. 'We can look for other ways to cross the river, or we can wait at the back of the queue and follow the Kurgan over once they've gone.'

'I ain't keen on waiting,' said Hals. 'What's to stop another column coming up behind us and catching us in the middle again?'

'We mustn't wait,' said Ulf. 'If we are to reach Count Manfred in time to warm him of the Kurgans' coming, we must get out before they do.'

'I don't know if that's entirely possible,' said Reiner. 'Seeing as they are crossing already, but the sooner the better, as you say.'

'Did not Gustaf say he knew a way around?' asked Oskar, worriedly.

'Aye,' said Hals, giving Franka a significant look. 'But Gustaf is dead.'

'We can only hope we come across it as we search,' said Reiner hurriedly. 'We'll split into two squads and search east and west of the bridge for another way across, then meet back here when we're done. Giano, take Pavel and Oskar west. I'll take Franz and Ulf. Hals, you stay here. If any more Chaos troops come through move one level up. We'll find you there.'

'Aye, captain,' said Hals.

The others split off into left and right passages, leaving him alone.

Reiner, Franka and Ulf gave the river chamber a wide berth, travelling east as far as the warren of tunnels would allow, then moving south to find the river. It was easy to find. Its roaring filled the tunnels, and they used the noise and the wet wind that accompanied it as a compass. After a short while they found a tunnel that seemed to parallel it. They could feel the current vibrating the left wall. The tunnel began to descend gradually and soon they were splashing through shallow water.

About thirty paces ahead a hole had been worn through the wall by the constant abrasion of the water. Reiner could see the river through it, and a brackish backwater filled the tunnel to knee height just inside it. More water lapped in and out constantly with each cresting swell.

Reiner and the others waded down to the hole and looked through. Reiner winced as the fiercely cold water topped his boots and trickled down his calves. There was little to see. The river rushed out of darkness on the left and into darkness on the right. There was no sign of a bridge.

They moved on, winding through tunnels and galleries, tall chambers, and passages through which they had to crawl on hands and knees. There were many openings to the river, some intentional, some, like the first they had encountered, mere erosion, but no bridge. They found once the remains of one - a spur of rock that jutted out only a few steps over the river. There was another spur on the opposite side, and a tunnel mouth, beckoning invitingly.

'Can we bridge it?' Reiner asked Ulf. 'If we found some timber?'

Ulf shook his head. 'No, captain. The river is too wide and too fast. We would need two tall trees and a pier in the centre to span it.'

'All right. Let's try further on.'

But there was nothing. Closer to the main chamber, they found the first of a series of narrow landings - built out into the water at the bottom of stone ramps - but these didn't reach far enough to be of any use. There were a few on the opposite side as well. Some of them had stone pilings that jutted up like crocodile teeth along the water's edge.

At last they could go no further. The last landing they discovered was so close to the main chamber that they could see part of the bridge from it, and hear the bellowing of the Kurgan over the rush of the water.

Ulf squinted at the rebuilt bridge with a critical eye. 'Orc work,' he said with a sniff. 'Shoddy construction. The biggest bits of timber they can find, and string to hold it together. Surprised it's still standing.'

Reiner shrugged. 'Maybe they'll all fall in.' He turned back the way they had come. 'Let's get back and see if the others have found anything.'

Ulf followed, but Franka continued to stare at the bridge. 'I don't suppose we could float down to it from here, then cross underneath it through all those beams.'

'What?' said Reiner, turning back. He smirked. 'Well, you could, I suppose, if you didn't get swept away by the current, but then where would you be? Trapped under the bridge on the far side with the Kurgan marching over your head. And soaking wet to boot.'

'Aye,' agreed Franka. 'But what if there was another landing on the other side, downstream from the bridge?'

'You would still be swept away,' said Reiner.

'Not if you used ropes,' said Ulf, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 'Yes. If we did it in stages, it might work.'

Reiner scowled, thinking of the cold water in his boots and imagining immersing himself entirely in it. He sighed. 'Let's see if the others have found a more civilized crossing.'

They hadn't. All paths stopped at the river.

'But,' said Pavel, when Franka had mentioned her floating-down-the-river plan, 'there was a landing on the far side of the river, now that you mention it. About thirty paces below it.'

'Fifty-five feet,' said Oskar sleepily. 'Give or take a foot.'

Everybody turned to stare at him.

'Can you truly be so precise?' asked Reiner.

Oskar shrugged. 'It is my curse.'

'The landing above the bridge is roughly the same distance,' said Ulf. 'Perhaps a little closer.'

They moved away from the main tunnel into the criss-cross of side passages and measured out all the rope they had. Some of them had lost theirs in all the running and falling and hiding, but among them they had more than a hundred and fifty feet.

Ulf nodded, satisfied. 'This may work.'

Reiner though it was the first time he had seen the big man happy.

Once they had worked out who would do what and how, they made their way through the twists and turns of the city of tunnels until they reached the river again.

Reiner and the others eyed the water with trepidation. Talking about jumping into it was one thing, the reality was quite another. It was terrifyingly swift and sure to be colder than glacier ice. Visions of smashing into the granite piers at full speed filled Reiner's head, and from the shivers and swallows of the others they were having similar thoughts.

'I can't swim,' said Hals, anxiously.

'Nor can I,' said Pavel.

'There will be no swimming involved,' said Ulf, tying the longest length of rope around a stone piling. 'The current will carry you faster than you could swim anyway.'

'What you must do,' said Reiner, dreading it himself even as he did his best to make it sound easy, 'is hold your breath and try to stay underwater until you are beneath the bridge. We don't want some dirt-eater looking over and seeing us floundering about.'

'We shall have to leave our breastplates behind,' said Ulf, 'or we will sink like stones.'

'Leave our breastplates!' cried Hals. 'Are you mad? What if we have to fight the Kurgan?'

'If we find ourselves fighting the Kurgan,' said Reiner, 'breastplates won't be enough to save us.'

Ulf looked toward the bridge again, paying out rope, then turned to Oskar. 'Gunner, how far to the bridge?'

Oskar was examining a hole in his jerkin with an all-consuming interest.

'Oskar,' said Reiner. 'Oskar, wake up, lad. How far is it to the bridge?'

Oskar looked up, blinking, then squinted at the bridge. 'Forty-seven feet. I'd like another sip from the bottle, please.'

'When we reach the far shore,' said Reiner.

Ulf paid out forty-seven feet of rope, using his enormous boot as a measure. 'Too little and we won't reach the bridge,' he said. 'Too much and we'll bash our heads in.'

Reiner swallowed thickly, 'Then I better go first, as I have the thickest head.' He wanted to go last, but it was expected of the leader that he lead.

Ulf tied the rope around Reiner's waist. 'Don't gasp as you come up,' he said. 'They may hear.'

'Why not tie a stone to my feet and knock me senseless,' snarled Reiner. 'They'd never see me then.'

Ulf looked as if he was considering it.

Reiner turned and sat on the edge of the stone pier. He took a deep breath, and then another. He realised that no amount of deep breaths was going to prepare him, so with a sigh he began to lower himself into the river.

The shock of the cold water almost made him scream, and the strength of the current pulled at his legs so fiercely that what he had meant to be a silent graceful slide became a clumsy plop as he was yanked away from the landing by the rushing water. There was no difficulty in staying underwater. The river pulled him down like a lover. He could see nothing - feel nothing but cold and the pummelling power of the current. But almost as soon as the journey had begun it was over. He jolted to a stop, face down, the rope pulling tight around his waist, and the river knocking him back and forth like a kite in a high wind. He stretched out his arms, feeling for the pier.

It was almost impossible to push against the current, to hold his arm out to his side. If he relaxed at all his arms snapped above his head. His lungs were burning, exploding, desperate to take a breath. At last his left hand touched stone and he pulled himself toward the pier.

His head broke water and he remembered at the last moment not to gasp, inhaling slowly instead, though he longed to suck in air in great gulps. The granite pier rose only a few feet out of the water. He climbed onto its crumbling top and clung, shivering and weak, to the wooden understructure of the orc bridge.

He looked up, listening for some sign that he had been spotted, but heard nothing except the endless tread of Kurgan boots passing overhead. He was so cold he could barely feel his fingers. When he had recovered himself somewhat he untied the rope, gave it a sharp tug, and let it slip back into the water. He watched it slither away into the shadows like a snake on the rolling surface of the water.

After what seemed to him to be an endless wait, in which he became convinced that the rest of the party had been discovered and slaughtered and that he was stuck on this pier alone, surrounded by Kurgan in an endless underworld, Oskar broke the water an arm's length from the pier. He was remarkably calm, and Reiner pulled him in with no trouble.

'All right, Oskar?' he whispered.

'Oh yes,' said Oskar, wiping water from his eyes. 'I have no fear of water. I was raised near a lake. It is remarkably cold, though. I might just have a little sip, to keep the chill away.'

'This is not yet the other side.'

They sent the rope back and were joined in turn by Franka, Pavel, Hals and Giano and lastly Ulf. Everyone made their landing quietly except Hals, who cried out in pain because the rope had twisted around his broken leg and wrenched it when he stopped short. Pavel clapped a hand over his friend's mouth until he had recovered himself and everyone looked up, waiting for a horned helmet to peer down at them. Fortunately the roar of the rushing water was loud enough to cover incidental noises.

When at last Ulf arrived and had untied himself, he pried a piece of crumbling rock from the pier and fixed it to the end of the rope so that it would sink and not betray their presence by floating on the surface.

'First part accomplished,' said Reiner, relieved. 'Now for the far wall.'

In a drier environment, those of the party who had a full complement of working limbs would have had little trouble navigating the understructure of the bridge, for the logs were wide and numerous. Unfortunately, the wood had not been seasoned or treated in any way - and was in fact just fresh-cut trees, with sap still oozing from the cut ends - and was slimy with moss and algae, so each step had to be carefully made. In places the logs were so poorly joined - tied together with rope rather than pinned with nails or dowels - that they shifted when weight was put on them. It reminded Reiner of a time when he had been fooling about in the apple trees of his fathers orchard after a spring rain and sprained his wrist when he lost his footing. For Hals, with his broken leg, and Oskar with his broken arm, the journey was impossible unassisted. They had to be helped every step of the way. Pavel looked after Hals as usual, and Reiner stayed at Oskar's side, bracing him and taking his hand when he needed it. There were a few near disastrous slips, but at last they all reached the far wall and sat or leaned on the slick logs, catching their breath.

Ulf was shaking his head in dismay. 'Shocking. A child could have built a sturdier bridge. Look.' He poked a thick finger at the ropes that held the logs together. 'They have used the poorest quality rope. It has loosened and rotted in the damp. Why a few strokes with a knife here and there and the whole structure would...' He trailed off, his eyes glazing over.

'Not on your life, you madman,' said Reiner, catching on.

'But we must!' whispered Ulf, suddenly alive with urgency. 'We must! We can stop them in their tracks. More than half of their force would be trapped behind the river. The cannon as well. It would take them days, maybe weeks to rebuild it.'

'What's this now?' asked Hals. 'What does he mean to do?'

'He wants to knock down the bridge,' said Reiner. 'With us on it.' He shook his head at Ulf. 'You'll kill us all.'

'I won't!' said Ulf. There was a catch of desperate hope in his voice. 'If I loosen it just enough, I can tie a rope to a key support and pull it out once we are all clear.'

'And if you loosen it too much, it all falls on our heads before you get a chance,' countered Reiner.

Ulf clenched his fists, controlling his temper. 'Captain, I am an engineer. This is what I know. Will you not trust me in my field as I have trusted you in yours?'

'I do trust you, as an engineer. My fear is that you are allowing your eagerness to stop the Kurgan to drown your engineering knowledge in wishful dreams.'

They all looked up as they became aware that there was silence above them. No troops were crossing the bridge.

'Have they all gone?' asked Franka.

'They can't have,' said Hals.

The silence ended with a fresh roaring and cracking of whips, followed after a long moment by a creaking of wood, a groaning of slaves, and a grinding of iron on stone.

'The cannon,' said Pavel. 'They're moving the cannon.'

Ulf turned to Reiner, eyes pleading. 'Captain, this is an opportunity not to be missed. If we can drop the cannon in the river, we will not only slow them, we will...castrate them! They will be half the threat they are now. They may even give up and go home.'

Reiner bit his lip. They didn't have long to act. 'All right,' he said at last. 'What do we need to do?'

Ulf grinned, and began tying what was left of their rope to the support closest to the wall. 'Hals and Oskar. You will tie yourselves to this rope and wait here. The rest of us will spread out along this side of the bridge and cut the ropes that join the supports together. Once you unwind the rope, bring it here and tie one end to this pillar, the other around your waist. We do not want to leap into the river untethered, but if the bridge begins to go, jump, tethered or not. You understand me?'

'I understand yer a madman, and yer going to kill us all,' said Hals, but began to tie the rope around his waist.

Reiner, Ulf, Franka, Pavel and Giano started working their way quickly back through the timbers. The cannon was rolling closer. There wasn't much time. Reiner braced himself in a V and began sawing at a knotted mass of rope that lashed two logs together. For all of Ulfs talk of rotten rope, the fibres were tough and fought his blade. He longed to chop at them, but didn't want to risk the noise. To his left Franka was cutting feverishly. Giano was on his right, cursing under his breath as he worked and looking up constantly.

The cannon was picking up speed, and despite being wet and half frozen, Reiner started to sweat. There was a good chance the great gun would bring the bridge down without their help. Visions of being pinned to the river bottom flashed before his eyes.

Shouts of alarm came from above and the bridge shook with a jarring impact. Reiner clung to the supports as they shivered and swayed. He held his breath. Amazingly, the bridge remained intact. He exhaled. He could hear the Kurgan screaming and a fresh flurry of whip cracking. It sounded as if the slaves had steered the cannon into one of the railings.

A reprieve. Reiner began cutting again as the slaves moaned out a weary chant and began pulling the cannon back for another try. At last he parted the heavy hemp and started unwinding it, reaching around the trunk again and again like a tailor measuring the waist of a fat priest.

He had the binding unwound and had sawn halfway through the fixed end when the cannon rumbled forward again, and this time the slaves' aim was true. The heavy, iron-shod wheels boomed onto the wooden planks and the entire bridge groaned in pain. Reiner could feel the timbers compressing and shifting around him.

When the bridge didn't collapse immediately, he returned to cutting. Franka spidered past him, a coil of rope over one shoulder. Giano was nearly finished as well. They'd done it!

A sudden cry and a splash from the far end of the bridge snapped Reiner's head around. Pavel was clinging to a support beam, his legs dangling over the water. A length of tree trunk was bobbing away down the river, followed by a tangle of rope.

'Sigmar's balls!' cursed Reiner, glancing up fearfully. Had the Chaos troops heard? He chopped through the last few strands of his rope, slung it over his shoulder, and monkeyed toward Pavel as fast as he could. The pikeman's hands were slipping as he tried to get purchase on the slimy log.

A harsh voice barked down from above. Reiner looked up, and locked eyes with a Kurgan overseer, his helmet glinting in the torchlight. For a moment, both of them froze, then the overseer disappeared and Reiner heard him shouting a warning. The cannon stopped.

'Ulf!' Reiner cried as he reached Pavel. 'We have been discovered! Rope off and into the water.'

'But I must still remove the centre joist!' came Ulfs reply.

'It's too late!' Reiner braced himself, grabbed Pavel's arm and pulled.

'Shouldn't we just drop in?' the pikeman asked as he struggled to get on top of the log.

'Without tying off?' asked Reiner. 'We'd never stop.'

Pavel was fortunately wiry and light. With Reiner's help he got a fresh grip on the log and swung his legs up to brace against another. 'Sorry, captain,' he said as he scrambled to his feet. 'It fell away as I stepped on it.'

'Forget it. Just move. We need to tie off by the wall or we'll miss the landing.'

But as they turned toward the south bank, Kurgan began climbing over the side of the bridge.

'Hurry!' said Reiner, drawing his sword.

As he and Pavel clambered through the beams, the cannon began moving again, but this time it was moving back toward the north side of the bridge. The slaves were pulling it back, out of danger.

'No!' wailed Ulf. He started forward, maul in hand, ducking recklessly through the supports. 'The cannon must fall!'

'Urquart! Fall back!' Reiner bellowed. 'I order you...!'

A Kurgan dropped on the beam before him, roaring and swinging his axe - and immediately slipped and fell into the rushing water. He disappeared instantly. Reiner laughed, but a second, a hulking heathen with a flaming red beard, was more cautious, bracing with one hand while menacing Reiner with his sword. More were climbing down behind him.

'We'll never get through that lot,' said Pavel.

Reiner pulled the coiled rope off his shoulder and handed it back to the pikeman, his eyes never leaving the advancing Kurgan. 'Tie off. We'll go together.'

Pavel hesitated. 'But did you not say...'

'We'll have to risk it. It may be death, but it's not certain death.'

The redbearded Kurgan lashed out. Reiner ducked and the heavy sword bit into a support trunk. Reiner had a clear shot. He thrust at the man's chest, but his sword glanced off the norther's mail shirt.

Reiner retreated back behind the pillar as red-beard's blade splintered it again. Behind the giant another Kurgan screamed and tumbled into the water. The others turned. Ulf was behind them, wading into them, maul swinging. Reiner gasped, amazed at the big man's agility on the treacherous framework. He seemed more at home there than on solid ground. All those years clambering up and down scaffolding, building fortifications, Reiner decided.

For a foolish moment, as another Kurgan fell victim to Ulfs maul, Reiner thought the engineer might win, but more and more Kurgan were climbing over the rail. There was an endless supply of them. The battle could not be won.

'Tied off, captain.' said Pavel, behind him.

'Tie my waist.' Reiner dodged another cautious blow from red beard and backed up. He felt Pavel's hands go around his waist. 'Ulf!' he bellowed. 'Fall back! Abandon the bridge!'

'No!' shouted the engineer. 'I must strike just one blow!' He dodged back from two Kurgan, then slipped around the far side of a pillar, ending up behind them. 'Jump!' he called. 'Everyone jump! I will join you.'

Red-beard leapt forward and lunged at Reiner. Reiner jumped back desperately and evaded the blade by a finger's-width, but lost his balance. His feet flew out from under him and he fell backward. He had a brief flash of Pavel flailing, and then icy black water closed over him. The current yanked him down river like a giant hand.

The answer to whether Pavel had finished tying him off came almost immediately. He jerked to a brutal stop, the thin rope biting painfully into his waist. Something slammed into his left side. Pavel. The current stretched them out in the water like men side by side on a rack. The cold was unbearable. Reiner fought to bring his arms down and grab the rope. He tried to raise his head out of the river. The water split at his chin like the prow of a ship. It filled his mouth.

Reiner at last caught the rope. He pulled, and rose a little from the water. He sucked air. Pavel was struggling to do the same at his side. Reiner let go with one hand and grabbed him behind the neck. He nearly fell back again for this kindness, but Pavel at last found the rope and they both got their shoulders above the waves, though the strain was considerable.

To his right, Reiner could see that Oskar, Franka, Hals and Giano were in the water as well, all together in a knot at the end of their ropes. They were tantalisingly close to the landing and were straining to reach it. A Kurgan splashed by between them, trying to swim, and Reiner looked back at the bridge.

The cannon had nearly reached the north bank again, with slaves pushing and pulling at it fore and aft. Below them, Ulf was swinging at a support post in the centre of the bridge as Kurgan climbed toward him from all directions. He struck a mighty blow that Reiner heard above even the noise of the water, but the post remained in place. He swung again, but a Kurgan leapt at him and spoiled his aim. Then they were all around him, slashing and thrusting. Ulf took a cut in the shoulder, another in the leg. He roared and swung in a circle, knocking three Kurgan into the drink. Five took their place.

Pavel began pulling at the rope, trying to climb toward the bridge, against the current. 'Curse the lummox!' he cried. 'Pull, captain! We have to help him!'

'Ulf!' screamed Reiner. 'Jump, you fool.'

Ulf laid about him like Sigmar-in-the-pass and amazingly, for a moment, the Kurgan fell back before him, uncertain on the precarious struts. With a desperate, all or nothing swing, Ulf bashed the post again, a terrific smash that jarred it loose at last. It spun out of place and bounced down through the joists and beams to splash into the water.

The Kurgan under the bridge froze, looking around uneasily. At first it seemed that nothing would happen, then the bridge groaned like a dyspeptic giant. Another post fell out of place and dropped into the river, then another.

With a roar of rage, one of the Kurgan leapt at Ulf, bringing his sword down like a headsman's axe. Reiner watched in horror as the stroke chopped down through the engineer's collarbone all the way to his heart, causing an eruption of blood.

Ulf was dead, but it seemed that, by slaying him, the Kurgan had slain the bridge as well, for as Ulf fell, so did the span, twisting and collapsing with a slow grace.

'The damned fool,' said Reiner, swallowing hard. 'I told him...'

The bridge sagged first in the centre, and then disintegrated all along its length. On the north side the overseers were screeching at the cannon slaves to pull faster, but the great gun was still on the planks, and began rolling back down the swiftly steepening incline, dragging slaves and Chaos marauders with it, until at last its weight proved too much for the remaining supports, and it crashed through into the drooping understructure. The cannon crushed Ulf and the Kurgan warriors and took them and the bridge with it as it plunged into the river with an enormous splash.

A huge swell of water rose and began rolling down the river as the cannon's daemon mouth sank below the waves like some sea monster in its death throes. Reiner felt the tension on the rope around his waist slacken as the bridge became free-floating debris, all of which was heading their way.

'Brace yourself!' Reiner cried to Pavel, and risked a glance toward Hals, Franka, Oskar and Giano. They were just pulling themselves onto the landing. Franka lay gasping on the flagstones. Giano was trying desperately to get a leg up. Then the wave hit, covering the landing in a waist deep blanket of water. As he was lifted and tossed about on the swell, Reiner saw Franka and Giano swept off the landing and back into the river with Oskar and Hals as if by a broom.

Their only piece of fortune - if it could be called that - was that the wave pushed the four toward Reiner and Pavel; almost drove them into them in fact. Reiner had to raise his hands to fend off Oskar's knees as he whirled past him.

'Catch them!' Reiner called to Pavel. 'Hold 'em fast!'

He and Pavel grabbed at the spinning mass of limbs and torsos. Through the splash and foam, Reiner locked eyes with Franka. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Pavel had Hals by the collar.

'At least,' choked Giano, spitting water, 'we all die together, eh?'

'Watch out!' shouted Franka.

Reiner looked back, and almost had his head caved in by a huge log rising and turning on the swell. He kicked it away and another struck him in the back. The remains of the bridge were bounding past them, tumbling and knocking together with great hollow thuds, ropes like spiderwebs tangling them together.

A rope caught Oskar across the chest, jerking him forward, which in turn dragged his companions. Hals pulled the rope up and over Oskar's head. The artilleryman was barely conscious. Hals and Pavel tried to hold him out of the water, but they were sinking as well.

Reiner caught a rope-draped log and clung to it. 'Climb on! All of you.'

The light, which had been dimming quickly as they sped away from the Kurgans torches, went out entirely as the river took them around a bend. Reiner pulled Franka to the log by feel and she threw an arm over it. Reiner heard the others doing the same as the current swept them further into the darkness at a terrifying speed.

SIXTEEN

Fellows Of The Brand

They clung silently to the log as it hurtled through the deafening black, the sound of their gasping breaths lost in the rushing roar of the river. All of them were too cold, too battered and too frightened to speak. There was no room in Reiner's head for wondering what might happen next, for making plans. He was a rat, clutching at flotsam, trying to keep his head above water, fighting for one more breath, all higher thoughts gone, surrendered to the unconquerable animal instinct to hold on to life while there was yet strength in his limbs.

Other pieces of debris glanced off them, causing fresh cries of pain and fear, and they careered bruisingly into the walls as the river whipped them around corners, each time making Reiner think that they had crashed into the invisible obstacle that would at last break their bodies and crack their skulls.

His brain was so numb that he failed to wonder what the steadily growing roaring in his ears might mean until he and the log and his companions flew helter skelter down smooth, stairstepped rapids and plunged into a roiling boil of leaping water.

After a frightening liquid battering, the log resurfaced and Reiner found that they were floating in relatively calm water. When he had caught his breath, he raised his voice. 'Are we all here?'

'Aye, captain,' said Pavel.

'Here.' said Franka.

'And where might here be?' grumbled Hals.

'We are swallowed by the dragon,' said Oskar. 'He will use us as fuel for his fire.'

'Shut you mouth, crazy man,' said Giano angrily.

From the echoes they seemed to be in a large cavern. There was still a current, pulling them insistently along, but there were no waves. A hollow knocking - almost musical - came from their left. It sounded to Reiner like enormous wooden wind chimes banging together.

Reiner had been in the cold water for so long he hardly felt it anymore, but he had a dangerous urge to sleep, to let go of the log and drift away. He shook himself.

'I don't suppose anyone's tinder is dry enough to...' He paused as the roar of the rapids, which had been growing gradually quieter, got louder once again. 'Are we coming to a second set of rapids?' he asked.

'I don't believe so,' said Franka, her teeth chattering. 'For the other sound is still to our left.'

The rapids roared in their ears and they were splashed with spray, then after a moment the rumble once again diminished, while the wood-on-wood sound remained a constant.

'We are travelling in a circle,' said Reiner, his stomach sinking. 'We are caught in a vortex, a whirlpool.'

There was a short silence as this sunk in, then Pavel spoke.

'So what's to be done? What d'we do?'

'Do?' Reiner laughed mirthlessly. 'My dear pikeman, we are doing it.'

'But captain,' said Hals uneasily. 'You must have a plan. Y'haven't failed us yet.'

Reiner cursed inwardly. Damn them and their confidence in him. In his mind he had failed them at every turn. Why couldn't they see it? 'I'm sorry, lad. I'm fresh out.'

The sound of the rapids came and went again, but this time not so loudly, while the hollow wooden knocking grew slowly but steadily louder. The current was getting stronger as well, pulling them around the vortex more and more quickly, while at the same time tugging them down as well. Their tired arms were finding it harder and harder to hold onto the log.

'Is no shore to swim?' asked Giano querulously.

'I know not.' said Reiner. 'But feel free to explore.'

The Tilean didn't seem so inclined.

As they passed the sound of the rapids for the sixth or seventh time Reiner noted a strange phenomenon. The surface of the water was not level. It sloped away on their left like the side of a soup bowl, and now the wooden knocking was drowning out everything else.

'The bridge.' said Reiner, understanding at last. 'All the timbers have gathered here, but wood doesn't sink.'

'Oh!' Franka cried. 'It's pulling me down!'

'By Sigmar.' said Hals. 'It has me too!'

'Hold fast!' Reiner cried, though he knew now it was hopeless.

The current pulled almost straight down now. Their log slid down the side of the soup bowl and smashed end-on into the others as they spun in a violent circle, held forever in agitated equilibrium in the centre of the vortex by the current that pulled them down and their buoyancy that forced them up. The impact jarred Reiner so hard his teeth snapped. He lost his grip and was instantly sucked down the whirlpool's maw. The swirling logs bludgeoned him as he sank, but he was soon below them, pulled inexorably down, as if some sea-serpent had him by the legs and dragged him to its underwater lair.

Once again animal instinct overcame him, and though he knew that struggle was useless, he clawed at the water, trying desperately to swim to the surface, to reach air again, while his lungs screamed in fiery agony.

The current angled suddenly sideways and his shoulder struck a rocky surface hard enough that he almost gasped. He was dragged into an airless tunnel, scraping along the rough roof at a furious pace. He could feel his clothes, and then his skin shredding. All became a jumble of pain and speed and disorientation. He knew not if he was alive or dead, cold or hot, in pain or unable to feel anything at all. Red lines wormed across the blackness of his vision. A rapid thumping pounded in his ears. His chest felt as if it were being crushed in a vice.

And then, suddenly, there was air.

And he was falling.

Into water.

Again.

The first thing Reiner thought when he broke the surface was, 'What is that Sigmar-cursed light?' For a unbearable brightness seared through his eyelids. Then he began coughing violently, retching out great quantities of water as he paddled his arms to stay afloat. He could hear others around him doing the same. His eyes watered. His nose ran. His throat felt like he had swallowed broken glass, but at last he cleared his lungs and looked around.

He and his companions were bobbing in a small mountain lake, surrounded by tall pines. A high waterfall dropped to the lake from a cleft in a crag. A pair of ducks skimmed into a landing on the water. He was outside. The bright light was the sun, setting over a carpet of evergreens. They were out of the tunnels at last!

Pavel gurgled beside him. 'Captain, I... Hals is... I can't...'

Reiner looked at him. The pikeman was thrashing around, trying unsuccessfully to keep his head above water. Hals floated face down beside him, not moving. Beyond them, Oskar was calmly paddling one-handed for the shore, while Franka and Giano recovered themselves.

'Giano, Franz,' called Reiner. 'Can you swim?'

'Aye,' they said in unison.

'Then help Pavel to shore.'

Reiner caught Hals around the shoulders and turned him face up, then swam him to the nearest landfall, a muddy bank, thick with rushes.

As they reached the shallows Pavel crawled out under his own power and Franka and Giano helped Reiner drag Hals out and lay him on his side. Reiner pounded him on the back.

For a moment Hals didn't move, and Pavel sat watching anxiously. But at last, with a violent convulsion, the pikeman began coughing and spewed an alarming amount of water out onto the mud. Reiner held his head until he was through.

'All right, pikeman?' asked Reiner.

Hals looked at him with bloodshot eyes. 'I'm... never bathing... again.'

Pavel grinned with relief. 'And why should ye start now anyway, y'old goat?'

Reiner patted Hals's shoulder and stood, looking at them all. He shook his head. 'A sorrier lot of wretches I have never seen.'

Hals laughed. 'Yer no beauty yerself, captain.' He sneezed and shivered.

They were all shivering. Franka's teeth were chattering uncontrollably and Reiner realised that his were doing the same. Tremors racked his body. His fingers were blue. Though there were buds sprouting on the nearby dogwoods it was only early spring yet, and they were still high in the mountains. 'Any missing fingers? Any bones broken?'

They all shook their heads, but it was clear that they had all been badly battered by the river and the vortex. Hals has lost his crutch. Pavel's eye-patch was missing and his eye socket gaped like a red cave. Oskar had a fresh wound on his brow. Giano's forearm was badly scraped and Franka's shirt was newly red, as if the gashes she had received from the warhound had reopened.

Reiner squinted at the nearby mountain tops, looking for familiar landmarks. 'Have we any idea where we are?' he asked.

Hals sat up and looked around. 'It don't look familiar,' he said. 'But by the sun we must be on the southern face of the Middle Mountains'

Reiner nodded. 'Wherever we are, we must find shelter. We need to dry off in front of a fire before we all catch our deaths.'

'There's chimney smoke down the hill, captain,' said Oskar. 'And do you still have the bottle?'

Reiner was loath to give Oskar any more of the juice. It already seemed to have him in its clutches, but he'd been most helpful of late. He put his hand in his jerkin. The vial was gone. 'Sorry, old son. I've lost the bottle.'

Oskar swallowed, and nodded. 'I see. Very well.' He hugged his arms and shivered.

Reiner coughed and sniffed. 'Right. Come on, you lot. Let us go take advantage of their hospitality, whoever they are.'

The party got to their feet and began limping and staggering down the piney slope.

Reiner looked back at the waterfall. It was as high as three houses. He shook his head. It seemed incredible they had survived.

'Water is a softer landing than rock.' said Franka, reading his thoughts.

Reiner grimaced. 'Not by much.' They started after the others.

Reiner stole a sidelong look at the girl, who walked contentedly beside him. Curse her for being so companionable, he thought. It was unnerving for a woman to be so easy to get along with, so much like a friend, and yet so...

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of her standing before him, naked to the waist.

It was only a short walk to the village - a good thing, for none of them were capable of a long walk, and they were ill-equipped to face any danger they might come across. In addition to being lame and sore, they were almost entirely unarmed. Though Reiner had his pistols - but no powder or shot - and he and Giano still had swords, the river had taken almost everything they hadn't lost earlier. Giano's crossbow was gone. Oskar's long gun, Franka's bow, Pavel's spear, Hals's crutch-that-was-once-a-spear, all lost in the darkness of the underworld, leaving them with only their daggers.

They reached the village just as the sun disappeared behind the mountains and the landscape shaded to purple. At first, as they came upon it through the trees, it seemed a quaint place, strangely untouched by the war - a few small stone and shingle cottages tucked in a fold of hills by the stream that wound away from the lake. Smoke rose from a few chimneys.

Reiner heard Franka choke back a sob beside him.

'It's so much like home,' she said, recovering herself.

Reiner knew just how she felt. After so long in such an alien place, these little huts, which he wouldn't have given a second look a fortnight ago, looked more welcoming to him now than the finest inn in Altdorf.

But as they got closer, the hair began to rise on Reiner's neck. Though he couldn't put a finger on it, something didn't feel quite right. Despite the smoke coming from the chimneys, the place had a neglected, deserted air. Weeds grew unrestrained around the houses and windows gaped open, their shutters hanging off their hinges. There was a disconcerting look of vacancy about the whole place.

The companions walked warily up the muddy street to the well at the centre. Not a sound of human occupation did they hear: not a voice or movement, not the crying of a child or the hammering of a smith. They looked around them, hands on the pommels of their swords and daggers. The empty windows stared back at them.

'Ahoy, the village!' called Reiner.

His voice echoed between the houses and away into the woods.

'Where are they?' asked Franka in a hushed voice. 'Where have they gone?'

'And whose smoke is that coming from the chimneys?' grunted Hals.

'Maybe they went for a walk,' said Oskar.

'And maybe you'll die finding out,' said a rough voice behind them.

The companions whipped around. A gaunt man with lank hair that hung over his forehead stood at the corner of a house. He was dressed in patched and filthy clothes and carried a bow, an arrow nocked and ready. He raised a hand and more ragged men stepped out behind him, and from behind every house that faced the square. All levelled bows at Reiner's men. They were surrounded.

The gaunt man stepped into the square with two lieutenants, a short, pug-nosed fellow with a tuft of sandy beard on his chin, and a grim, powerfully built warrior with long braids that hung to his chest. They gave the companions a once over. The leader grinned, revealing teeth like a horse's.

'Yer a sorry lot,' he said. 'What chewed you up?'

'Almost not worth jumping,' said pug-nose with a sneer.

Braids pointed at the Reiner's leather jerkin, then Hals's and Pavel's. 'Their kit's regulation, what's left of it. They're soldiers.'

The smirk died on horse-face's lips. His eyes turned cold. 'You hunting us?' he asked Reiner. 'You scouts?'

'Best to kill 'em, Horst,' said pug-nose. 'Just t'be safe.'

'Aye,' said horse-face, pushing his hair aside to rub his brow. 'Aye, I suppose we must.' As his hair fell back, Reiner thought he saw a familiar scar on his forehead. The bandit signalled his men and Reiner heard the creak of two-dozen bowstrings being pulled back.

'Wait!' cried Pavel.

'What we do?' gabbled Giano, anxiously. 'What we do?'

'Take off your gloves, quick!' said Reiner.

'Take off...?' echoed Giano, puzzled.

Reiner yanked off his still-damp glove with his teeth and held up his hand, showing the scar on the back. 'Brothers!' he shouted, smiling as wide as he could. 'How glad we are to see fellows of the brand.'

The men paused. Horse-face and his lieutenants squinted at his hand in the dying twilight as Reiner's companions tore off their gloves and showed their brands as well. The ring of archers relaxed their strings, but did not yet lower their bows.

'We... we are recently escaped from a convict column,' said Reiner, making it up as he said it. 'On the way to Middenheim to slave in the rebuilding of the walls. We were closely hounded by wolf swords, and nearly...'

Braids stepped forward, menacing. 'You have brought Knights of Ulric into our hills?'

'No, no,' said Reiner quickly, holding up his hands. 'No, no. We lost them a day ago, but then, alas, became lost ourselves. And many a misadventure have we had since. There was the bear...'

'And the waterfall,' added Franka, picking it up.

Reiner nodded. 'And the tumble down the cliff.'

Braids grabbed Reiner's hand in an iron grip and examined the brand closely. He rubbed it with his thumb, as if he expected it to smear. When it didn't, he grunted and turned away.

Horse-face grinned. 'You really are a sad bunch, ain't you? Tenderfoot flatlanders stumbling about in the hills like little lost babes.'

Reiner drew himself up. 'We are not yet hard-bitten brigands like yourselves. Our brands are still fresh. But we have all our lives to learn.'

Horse-face and pug-nose laughed and their men joined in.

'Well then, my young sprouts,' said horse-face. 'Let us start you off on the right foot. Let us show you the joys of the life of the outlaw.' He bowed. 'Welcome to our humble home.'

And as he said it, a few gaunt women and dirty children stepped out of hiding and peered from the windows and doors of the rundown huts to stare at the newcomers.

Reiner frowned, confused, as Horse-face led him and the others to the largest house. It was fully dark now. 'Are you bandits? Or is this your village?'

Horse-face grimaced. 'Well, both, really. A lot of us lived here before the war. Or here abouts. But then we went off to fight for Karl-Franz - and much thanks we got for it I can tell ye. Cut down in our thousands while the knights made fine speeches.' He waved a hand. 'But y'know all about that, yes? At any rate, when we returned, they're all dead, our mothers and fathers, sisters and sons...' He sighed and looked around. 'We'd love to live here again, but with them northern devils nesting up in the hills, we've to be on our guard. Can't set up anything permanent.'

'You do a good job of disappearing,' said Reiner.

'Aye,' said Horse-face. 'Plenty of practice.' He shrugged. 'If we could ask m'lord Hulshelft for protection he'd root the heathen out and make this land safe again, but, well, we're marked men, most of us, like you. He'd string us up sooner than help us.'

They entered the house. Reiner's visions of venison and boar roasting on spits and wine flowing from casks of stolen monastery wine were dashed as Horse-face offered him and his companions a place at the small fireplace and called for food. There was no furniture. They sat on the floor. The wind whistled through the missing windows and leaves and dirt gathered in drifts in the corners. The fire was barely large enough to warm Reiner's hands, let alone dry his clothes.

Though they had little, the bandits weren't stingy. They filled bowls and cups for them and refilled them when they were empty. There was no venison. No boar. Only stringy rabbits and squirrels crisping on sticks, and a thin gruel of oats and wild carrots that was mostly water. At least it filled their bellies and warmed their bones.

As he gnawed the last bits from the bones of a rabbit, Hals leaned in and murmured in Reiner's ear. 'Why don't we throw in our lot with these lads?' said the pikeman. 'They seem a likely bunch.'

Reiner made a face. In the light of the fire it was easy to see how malnourished the bandits were, their faces hollow and sickly. These were not merry outlaws living a life free from care. They were wanted men, hard hunted and longing to return to their former lives - a dream as impossible for them as flying to Mannslieb on the back of a griffin.

'Why not?' Reiner asked. 'Because I'd be at home here as you would be in the court of the king of Bretonnia.'

'Ah,' said Hals. "Tain't so bad.'

'You think not? Look at them. They're starving.'

'That's winter.' said Pavel, joining in. 'Things get a touch lean in the winter, certain. But it's spring now. There'll be food aplenty soon.'

'And another winter next year.'

Hals shrugged.

Reiner lowered his voice and hunched closer to them. He didn't want the bandits to hear. 'You're more than welcome to stay. I'll not stop you.' He held up his scarred hand. 'But there's a chance at the end of this journey to erase this mark and return to a normal life - for me to go back to my card rooms and taverns, for you to go back to your farms. That sounds better to me than mucking about in the woods eating coneys for the rest of our lives.'

Hals and Pavel frowned and sat back to whisper between themselves. After a moment Hals leaned forward again, looking sheepish. 'We're with ye, captain.' He shrugged. 'We... well, sometimes it's a mite hard to believe in going home, after everything what's happened.'

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'I know.'

A hand slapped his back and Horse-face sat down next to him with Pug-nose and Braids at his sides. 'Well, how do you like our homely fare?' he asked with a grin.

'The best we've had in days,' said Reiner truthfully. 'And we thank you for your hospitality.'

The bandit waved a dismissive hand. "Tisn't hospitality. Y'll pay for it, one way or the other. If you stay with us y'll pull yer weight. If you leave us, yer purses will be lighter.' He grinned. 'Have y'decided which it's to be?'

Reiner sighed. He had expected something like this. The men were bandits after all. 'I believe we will be moving on. You have been more than generous, but I can see that you have little to share. You have no need of six more mouths to feed.'

'Where will you go?' asked braids.

Reiner frowned and rubbed his hand. 'The man who gave us these brands rides with Count Manfred, who means to win back Nordbergbruche from the northers. We have unfinished business with that man, if we can find Nordbergbruche.' He grinned wryly. 'We're sorely lost.'

Pug-nose made a face. 'You would run back to the arms of your executioners? Are you mad?'

'We are willing to die, so long as our nemesis does as well.'

'They go to betray us,' said Braids. 'They hope to win clemency by turning us in.'

Reiner glared at him. 'Do you think I am such a fool, sir? I know the Empire's justice as well as any. There is no clemency for one who wears the hammer brand. They may spare me the axe, but only to give me a pick and shovel. I will die in chains one way or the other.'

Braids snorted, but Horse-face waved an annoyed hand at him. 'Leave off, Gherholt. You would suspect Sigmar himself.' He smiled at Reiner. 'You've picked a busy destination. We spied Manfred marching toward Nordbergbruche this morning, and Chaos troops have been coming down out of the crags to defend it. We mean to go there after the battle, to pick the bones of the dead.'

A thrill of fear ran up Reiner's spine. 'Do you think battle has already been joined, then? Did you see the troops of the count's brother, Baron Albrecht?'

'Afraid your nemesis might die without your help?' asked Pugnose.

'Precisely. I don't want some filthy norther cheating me of my vengeance.'

Horse-face shook his head. 'Manfred wouldn't have reached Nordbergbruche before dark. They won't form up until daybreak. We didn't see his brother.'

Reiner made a noise halfway between a sigh of relief and a moan. He was relieved that they hadn't come too late, but almost undone by the realisation of what they must now do. 'And how far is Nordbergbruche from here? Can we reach it by morning?'

Pug-nose laughed. 'In your condition? I doubt you'll make it at all.'

'Ye'll walk all night.' said Horse-face. 'But you'll be there before dawn.'

Reiner's companions groaned.

'Can y'tell us the way?' asked Hals.

'Aye, we can.' said Pug-nose.

They waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

'Will y'tell us the way?' asked Pavel.

Horse-face shrugged. 'Well, friends, that depends on the contents of your purses.'

Reiner smirked. He had known it would eventually come to this. Fortunately, unlike the cut and thrust of duelling, hard bargaining was a kind of melee he was comfortable engaging in. Here he could lead with confidence.

'Well, we don't have much to baiter with, do we? For if you don't like our offer you can just kill us and take what you want. Therefore I must call upon your honour as brothers of the brand to deal squarely with us, and to remind you that cornered rats bite. You will get a fair price for your help if we make a bargain. You will get more than you bargained for if you fight us.'

Horse-face exchanged a look with his companions, then nodded. 'Fair enough. Tell us what you want, and make your offer.'

In the end, they got away with their lives, but it cost Reiner all Veirt's gold crowns, one of his pistols, and the sword his father had given him to do it. He hadn't minded giving away the gold. Gold always came and went. That was its purpose. And if Count Manfred rewarded them as he hoped, they would all soon be knee-deep in gold. The sword however was a painful parting. Certainly he could buy a better sword with Manfred's gold, but it wouldn't behis sword, would it?

In addition to not killing them, the bandits had patched their wounds - though not as expertly as Gustaf would have - given them directions and provided them all with weapons: a lesser sword for Reiner, spears for Pavel and Hals - as well as a crutch - bows for Franka and Giano, and an enormous old blunderbuss for Oskar, but only enough powder or shot for a handful of charges.

As per the bandits' directions, they followed the stream down the mountain until it reached a rutted track, took that east until it crossed a main road, and then travelled north and east as fast as their bruised, exhausted bodies would carry them.

Franka grinned as she walked beside Reiner. 'Never have I heard someone lie like that. So fluently, so credibly. Hurrying to kill the man who branded us. Ha!'

'Well, isn't it the truth?' asked Reiner. 'We may not have the pleasure of killing Albrecht with our own swords, but if we succeed, we will certainly cause his downfall.'

'But that is not what you implied. You made us out to be the most bloodthirsty of villains, out for terrible vengeance. Never have I known such a master of deceit.'

Reiner smirked. 'Have you glanced in a looking glass lately?'

Franka punched him and looked around anxiously to see if anyone else had heard.

They followed the road all night, shambling like sleepwalkers for mile upon endless mile. Soon all conversations ceased. All pretences of vigilance fell by the wayside. Reiner felt in a dream. Sometimes it seemed he walked in place and the world rolled beneath him. Sometimes he seemed to float above himself, watching from the clouds the line of ragged, limping figures as they wound through the dark woods and moonlit wastelands. It grew colder as they marched into the early morning and the warmth of the fire became a distant memory. They huddled in their torn and threadbare jerkins, longing for the heavy cloaks they had been issued at the beginning of this mad journey.

Long after the moons had set, they reached the turning the bandits had mentioned and began to climb back into the hills. Their pace became even slower. More than once Reiner caught himself just before his knees buckled. He wanted more than anything in the world to curl up and sleep, right in the middle of the road, if need be. His chin sank to his chest at regular intervals, and there were a few times when he opened his eyes and couldn't be sure when he had closed them.

At last, just as a faint pink light was touching the snowy peaks of the mountains, they crested a pass and saw in the distance a massive stone castle looming like a vulture over a shadowed valley. The valley opened before Reiner and his companions like a Y, with the castle perched on a high crag at the intersection of the two arms. At the base of the Y, just below where they stood, was a village. No lights shone there, but further up the valley, a cautious distance from the castle, the morning campfires of a great army shone in the darkness.

'Come on, lads,' said Reiner. 'Journey's end.'

'One way or the other,' grumbled Hals, but he was too tired to put much feeling into it.

They marched wearily down the hill to the valley floor. As they reached the village they saw that it had been destroyed. Not a building had its roof, or all four of its walls. Most had been burned to the ground. The yawning holes of the burned-out windows stared at them reproachfully, like betrayed comrades come back from the dead. The silence was utter. Though dawn was breaking, not a bird sang. No wind stirred the blackened, leafless trees. It felt as if the world had died, had uttered its last breath, and lay cold and motionless at their feet.

As they trudged up the dirt road that ran up the middle of the valley, the camp began to appear over the intervening trees and hedgerows - the white tents in their ordered ranks, the banners of the knights or companies housed within hanging limp above them, Manfred's banner of a lion in white and gold rising over them all, and to Reiner's relief, no sign what so ever of the manticore banner.

Noise returned to the world as they got closer - pots and pans clanked, ropes and harnesses creaked, hooves thudded, grindstones whirred, sleepy soldiers coughed and grumbled. Smells followed the sounds: porridge and bacon, horse, man, leather and canvas, wood smoke and gunpowder. Reiner and his companions inhaled deeply. Though Reiner had enlisted with reluctance, and would have sworn that he'd hated every minute of his time in the army, the sounds and smells of the camp filled him with such homesick joy that there were tears in his eyes.

He had to swallow a few times before he could speak. 'Cover your brands. We don't want to be thrown in the brigbefore we see Manfred.'

At the perimeter of the camp a picket stopped them. 'Who goes there!' cried a sentry.

'Couriers, with news for Count Manfred,' said Reiner, with as much military brusqueness as he could muster.

The picket stepped out of the shadows, eight men led by a sergeant - a square-shouldered, square-jawed swordsman. He wrinkled his nose and gave Reiner's company a suspicious once over. 'You look more like tinkers. Where is your seal?'

'We have been set upon, as you can see,' said Reiner. 'And have lost almost everything, but we have urgent news of Baron Albrecht's advance that the count must hear.'

'I'll decide that. What's the news?'

'It isn't for your ears, damn your eyes!' said Reiner drawing himself up. 'Do you think I'd tell a mere sergeant what torture couldn't get out of me? My name is Captain Reiner Hetzau and I demand to see Count Manfred!'

The sergeant gave Reiner a dirty look for pulling rank, and turned to one of his men. 'Hergig. Take his lordship and his men to see Captain Shaffer. I've had enough of him.'

This comedy was repeated four times in front of various captains, lieutenants and knights - before Reiner and his companions were at last led to the majestic white tent with the gold and white pennons in the centre of the camp.

'Your men will wait out here,' said the captain of the count's guard. 'And you will hand over your sword and daggers.'

Reiner did as he was told and the knight ushered him through the canvas flap.

In the tent, Count Manfred Valdenheim was at his breakfast. He sat at a big table, wolfing down ham and eggs and ale while his generals stood around him, splendid in their brightly polished armour and colourful capes, debating positions and strategies on the map spread out under the count's plates and cups. Manfred was still in his small clothes and shirt, his hair rumpled from sleep. A soldier's camp bed heaped with furs sat unmade in one corner, the count's suit of gold-chased steel armour standing like a sentinel on a rack at its foot.

The count was much like his younger brother in size and build, a large, barrel-chested man with the general aspect of an all-in wrestler, but where Albrecht's face had a cruel, shrewd cast, Manfred, with silver touching his temples and streaking his beard, had a kindly, bemused look. He seemed, in fact, almost too gentle to be the leader of a great army. But when the captain who had ushered Reiner into the tent whispered in his ear and he looked up, the ice blue gaze he turned on Reiner showed the steel beneath his fatherly exterior. He wasn't a wolf in sheep's clothing, thought Reiner, for he sensed that the count's easy nature was not a pretence, but rather a sheep who ate wolves for dinner - a man to be wary of, a man it would not be wise to lie to.

'What news, courier?' he asked briskly.

Reiner dropped to one knee, as much from exhaustion as deference. 'My lord, I have news of your brother which I am afraid you will not want to hear or wish to believe.'

The generals paused in their muttering and looked up at him.

Manfred lowered his knife and fork. 'Go on, my son.'

Reiner swallowed. Now that it came time to speak, he was afraid to tell his tale. It seemed so damned implausible. 'My lord, a fortnight ago, I and my companions were ordered by your brother to escort the Lady Magda Bandauer, an abbess of Shallya, to a Shallyan convent in the foothills of the Middle Mountains, where she was to open a sealed vault and retrieve from it a battle standard of great power.'

'Valnir's Bane,' said Manfred. 'I know of it, though the nuns always denied they had it.'

'And well they might, my lord,' said Reiner. 'For it is no longer the mighty weapon for good it once was. The blood of Valnir has soaked into the very fibre of the banner and corrupted it, making it into a thing of great evil. But when we discovered this, Lady Magda was not dissuaded from taking it. Instead she attacked us with its malevolent power and escaped, killing our captain and leaving us to die.'

Manfred raised an eyebrow.

Reiner hurried on. 'My lord, at the beginning of the journey we were led to believe that your brother hoped to use the banner to aid you in retaking Nordbergbruche, but I believe now that this is not the case.'

The generals muttered in consternation. Manfred waved them silent.

'I do not wish to speak ill of your brother,' continued Reiner. 'But Lady Magda is an ambitious woman who longs for power, and I believe that under her influence, Albrecht has come to share her ambitions. It is my fear that he marches south under Valnir's Bane not to help you win back Nordbergbruche, but to take it for his own.'

'Lies!' cried a voice as the generals erupted in angry babbling. 'It's all lies!'

Reiner turned with the others.

Standing in the tent's opening were Lady Magda, once again the stiff, stern sister of Shallya, and Erich von Eisenberg, resplendent in beautiful blued steel armour, a plumed helmet tucked under his arm. It was he who had spoken.

SEVENTEEN

The Banner Has Enslaved Them

'This man is a traitor and a murderer,' said Lady Magda, pointing at Reiner. 'Arrest him immediately.'

'It is he, not the reverend abbess,' chimed in Erich, 'who tried to take the banner for his own. It is he who murdered the valiant Captain Veirt and nearly slew me when I came to Lady Magda's aid.'

'My lord,' said Reiner, turning to Manfred. 'I beseech you. Do not believe them. They mean you ill...'

'Enough!' cried Manfred. 'All of you.' He turned on Erich and Lady Magda. 'What is this intrusion? What is your business here?'

Erich saluted. 'My lord, we come from your brother. He bids you a good morning and wishes to inform you that he is an hour away with a force of two thousand men. They are well rested and will be at your disposal upon their arrival.'

The generals met these words with glad cries, but Manfred looked from Erich to Reiner and back with a scowl of uncertainty upon his brow. 'Until a moment ago I would have welcomed this news, for two thousand men will almost double our army, but now...'

'My lord,' said Erich, 'you mustn't believe him. This man is a traitor, a convicted sorcerer, charged with a hundred murders by witchcraft.'

'That isn't true, my lord,' countered Reiner. 'Your brother himself acknowledged that the charges against me were false.'

'If that is so,' said Erich, 'then ask him to remove his left glove and explain the brand he wears there.'

'You wear the hammer brand?' asked Manfred.

Reiner pulled off his glove and raised his hand for Manfred to see. 'We all do,' he said. 'Baron Albrecht chose all the men for the mission in secret from the brig at Smallhof - more proof that his intentions were less than above board. He branded us all to make it more difficult for us to desert. Master von Eisenberg wears it as well.'

Erich smiled. 'He convicts himself out of his own mouth, my lord.' He drew off his mailed gauntlet and held up his hand. 'I have no brand, as you can see.'

Reiner stared. The back of Erich's hand was smooth and unblemished. The scar was gone. Reiner thought he saw a cruel smirk flash across Lady Magda's haughty face.

'My lord,' Reiner cried. 'It was part of the bargain! Baron Albrecht promised us that he would have a sage of the Order of Light remove the brands when we returned with Lady Magda and the banner! Von Eisenberg is as much a criminal as any of us. He was to be hanged for murdering a child.'

'He piles lie upon lie, my lord,' said Erich. 'He knows not when to stop.'

'Nor do you, sir,' said Manfred, hotly. 'Now be silent both of you and let me think.'

Reiner closed his mouth on further protests and watched as Manfred eyed them both appraisingly. Reiner groaned. Though he hoped against hope, he knew he had lost. Erich's last thrust had struck home, and even if it hadn't, he looked the hero of the piece, with his shining armour and handsome face, his golden beard and noble bearing, he was every inch a champion of the Empire. While Reiner, though he was loath to admit it, looked like a villain, with his half-starved, unshaven face, his unwashed black hair and gambler's moustache, his filthy, shredded clothes, his ancient, rusty sword. Even freshly scrubbed and impeccably dressed he had always looked a bit of a rogue. In his present condition, he looked the worst sort of guttersnipe, an alley-basher and ne'er-do-well.

A knight burst through the tent flap. 'My lords! The Chaos troops are moving! They form up in front of the castle!'

'What?' cried a general. 'They leave the protection of the castle? Are they mad?'

'Mad indeed,' said Manfred, standing and wiping his mouth. 'They are warptouched. But there is method here.' He crossed to his armour, snapping his fingers for his valets to begin dressing him. 'If their look outs have told them of Albrecht's approach then they may mean to destroy us before we double our strength.' He looked at his generals. 'Call your men to arms. I will have all units in position within a half hour.'

The generals saluted and filed out of the tent.

The knight who had brought Reiner in stepped forward. 'My lord, what would you have me do with this one?'

Manfred glanced up at Reiner as if he had already forgotten who he was. He waved a hand. 'Hold him and his companions until the battle is over. I will decide what to do with them later.' He turned to Erich and Lady Magda. 'Return to my brother. Tell him to advance with all possible speed.'

Erich saluted. 'At once, my lord.'

As he and Lady Magda turned to leave, Erich caught Reiner's eye. He curled his lip in a triumphant sneer. Reiner tried to give him a rude gesture in response, but the knight grabbed his arm in a crushing grip and marched him out before he could get his fingers up.

There was no brig in the camp, so after they had been fed and their wounds seen to by a hurried field surgeon, they were placed under guard in a dry-goods tent behind the camp kitchen. They could see nothing but the sacks of flour they sat on and the jars of cooking oil and lard and the dried peas and lentils that were stacked around them, but through the thin canvas they could hear the cries and horn blasts of captains calling their companies to order, the thudding thunder of cavalry galloping by, the trot of infantry quick-marching into position to the sharp tattoo of regimental drums.

Pavel and Hals fidgeted at the sounds like the old warhorses they were, turning at every new sound, longing to be part of the action. Oskar sat huddled in a corner, shivering. He had asked Reiner twenty times for a sip from Gustafs bottle, forgetting each time that Reiner had lost it in the tunnels. In another corner Giano cursed and muttered to himself in his native tongue.

Reiner was too angry to sit. He paced back and forth between the hessian sacks.

'Damn Manfred,' he growled. 'Damn Karl-Franz. Damn the whole bloody Empire! Here we are, a bunch of villians and ne'er-do-wells, going against our nature and our self interest to do them a good turn, to save them from not one, but two grave dangers and do they thank us? Do they heap riches at our feet, feed us oranges and ambrosia? No! They ignore our warnings and fit us for the noose again.' He kicked a pickle barrel. 'Well, I for one have finished playing at heroes. Chaos can take Karl-Franz, Count Manfred and all the other high-born fools. From now on I am no longer a citizen of the Empire. I will be free of its grim pieties and stifling stoicism. From now on, I will be a citizen of the world. Who needs Aldorf when I have Marienburg, Tilea, Estalia, Araby, even far Cathay and all the mysteries of the unknown east? I will drink deep of freedom and call for more.' He turned to his companions, fire in his eyes. 'Who's with me? Who wants to walk a free man in a place where the hammer brand means nothing?'

The others stared at him, blinking.

'That was quite a speech,' said Hals. 'Almost as good as the one y'gave us about being homesick if we left the Empire, when you wanted us to stay with you.'

'Which one's the truth?' asked Pavel.

Reiner frowned. He'd forgotten the other speech. 'Er, why, both. I don't say I won't be homesick. I will. Altdorf is where my heart is, but as the Empire has turned its back on us, I will turn my back on it. And I'll be damned if I'll be miserable doing it. I'll go laughing, and to the depths with them all.'

Hals grinned. 'I hope y'never try to sell me a cow. I bet I'd end up giving ye my farm to buy it.'

'He's right all the same,' said Pavel. 'The jaggers have done us down. We owe 'em no favours. I'm in.'

'Oh, aye,' said Hals. 'Me as well.'

'And me,' chimed in Franka.

'You come to Tilea?' Giano grinned. 'I bring you my home. Cook you Tilean feasting, hey?' 'I certainly don't want to stay here.' said Oskar. 'I think they mean to hang us.'

'Good lads,' said Reiner. 'So where shall it be first? We'll need to make some money before we travel too far.'

'I vote for Marienburg,' said Hals. 'They speak our language. They pay good gold for willing pikes, and...' he nodded knowingly at Reiner. 'I hear their card-rooms rival Altdorf's.'

Reiner smirked. 'Hardly. But it is a port city. From there we can go anywhere. Are we agreed?'

The others nodded.

'Excellent.' Reiner looked around. 'Then we should find a way out of this tent.' He crossed to the tent flap and peeked out. The two guards who were meant to be guarding them stood well away from the opening, craning their necks, trying to see over the intervening tents to the field of battle. The camp seemed otherwise deserted, doused campfires smouldering and pennants flapping limply in a fitful breeze.

Reiner turned to his companions. 'Well, I don't think we'll have much trouble...'

A hair-raising noise interrupted him. It was the sound of five thousand savage throats raised in unison, roaring a barbaric war cry. The ground shook beneath Reiner's feet, and the muffled reports of cannon buffeted the tent.

'They've charged us,' said Franka. 'It's begun.'

Pavel and Hals were rooted to the spot. Giano's eyes darted around, anxious. Oskar flinched.

A second roar answered the first and the ground shook again. The noise rose to a continuous low rumble, pierced with shouts and trumpet blasts.

Reiner peeked through the tent flap again. Their two guards had almost disappeared around the mess tent. Their whole posture said that they longed to be supporting their fellows, not stuck far behind the lines.

Reiner turned back. 'Under the back wall. Our jailers will pay us no mind.' He paused as he saw Pavel and Hals's faces. They were stricken and grim. 'Have you changed your mind so soon?'

The pikemen were tortured with indecision. It was obvious that the idea of leaving their countrymen to fight the Chaos troops alone was odious to them, but at the same time, their sense of honour and justice had been wounded.

At last Hals shrugged. 'After the way they treated us? Let Chaos take them. I care not.'

'Nor do I,' said Pavel, but Reiner could tell he felt uncomfortable saying it.

'Then now is the time,' Reiner crossed to the back wall of the tent and began shifting sacks of flour out of the way. The others joined in. There was little danger of discovery. The air was filled with the sound of cannon fire, screaming horses, and the clash of arms.

When the sacks were cleared they pulled up on the bottom of the canvas wall until they loosened a tent peg, then wormed through the gap. Reiner stood watch behind the tent as the others squirmed out behind him. They were close to the south edge of the camp, in the stem of the Y-shaped valley. The sounds of the battle came from the north.

'Now,' said Reiner. 'Back to the road we came in on and west to Marienburg.'

'Wait,' said Giano, dragging a flour sack out of the tent. 'Prepare this time.' The sack had been emptied of most of its flour and filled with various dry goods. He grinned at them as he slung it over his shoulder and gestured around at the nearby tents. 'Store is open.'

Reiner smirked. 'You haven't a clear idea of the difference 'twixt mine and thine, do you, Tilean?'

He shrugged. 'If they want, they would take with them.'

Hals and Pavel scowled at him, but they joined in the hunt for weapons, clothes, armour, packs and cooking utensils. There was almost no one in the camp, only a few camp-followers and cooks - easily avoided, and though the soldiers had taken their main weapons to the battle, they had left all manner of swords and daggers, bows and spears behind. Reiner found a brace of pistols with powder and shot in a knight's tent. Oskar found a caisson full of handguns and took one, though he found it difficult to load with his left arm in a sling. Within the space of half an hour they were almost as well kitted out as they had been when Albrecht first freed them.

They assembled at the edge of camp, dressed in the colours of half a dozen companies, weapons bristling from belts and scabbards, and bulging packs over their shoulders.

'Now are we ready?' asked Reiner.

His companions nodded, though Pavel, Hals and Franka looked a trifle uncomfortable to be wearing gear stolen from their fellow soldiers.

'Then we march.'

They followed the path that had led them to the camp not two hours before. They were still dead tired, but their confinement had allowed them something resembling rest, and they were at least alert.

They had almost reached the village at the south end of the valley when Oskar pointed over the burned out buildings. 'Look.'

Winding down the hill beyond the town was a column of marching men, spearpoints and helms aglitter in the morning sun. The head of the column was hidden within the town, but there was no question as to whose army they must be.

'Albrecht,' said Pavel.

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'Come, we'll take cover 'til they pass.'

They hurried to a blackened barn on the outskirts of the town and hid inside it. Almost instantly they heard the tramp of marching feet and the clop of hooves. They stepped to the walls and peered through the charred boards as the head of the column emerged from the town. First to appear were Albrecht, Erich and Lady Magda, leading a company of more than a hundred knights. Erich rode between the baron and the abbess on a white charger clad in shining barding, but though Albrecht was splendid in his dark blue armour and a scarlet-plumed helm, and the company of knights was a magnificent sight that should have filled the hearts of men of the Empire with pride, the sight of the blood-red banner that Erich held aloft, couched in his lance socket, killed all emotions except an all pervading dread.

It was awesome and awful to look upon, slapping thickly against its pike, less like heavy cloth than a square of flesh cut from some umber giant, and though Reiner couldn't take his eyes off it, it was at the same time hard to look upon directly, for it radiated gloom and dread like a black sun. He felt at once physically sick, and at the same time compelled to join the column of men that followed it. Its power was a hundredfold greater than it had been in the crypt. Held by a hero at the head of an army, it had acquired at last its full allure. It tugged at Reiner like a magnet, and as he tore his eyes from it and looked around at his companions he could see that it affected them the same way. Pavel and Hals white-knuckled their spears. Franka and Giano stared, grimacing. Oskar was standing, stepping out from cover.

'Get down, you fool,' hissed Reiner, pulling the artilleryman back by his jerkin. He was glad of the distraction. Anything to keep him from looking at the banner again.

'Myrmidia,' breathed Franka. 'Look at them. The poor damned souls.'

Reiner reluctantly peered again through the wall. The knights had emerged entirely from the town and now companies of pike, sword and gun were marching out after them. In a way it was the most ordinary sight in the world, soldiers of the Empire on the march - simple farmers, millers, blacksmiths and merchants taking up arms in a time of war as they had done for centuries. But there was something about them, something almost indefinable, that was repulsive. They marched well enough, almost perfectly in fact, all in step, ranks dressed neat enough to warm a sergeant major's heart, but there was something about their gait, something loose and boneless, that reminded of Reiner of sleepwalkers. They stared straight ahead, jaws slack, eyes glazed. Not one of them looked left or right, or squinted at the sun to judge the time, or talked to his companions, or scratched his backside. Their eyes seemed fixed on the banner before them. They hardly seemed to blink.

'Zombies,' said Giano, making a warding sign.

'The banner has enslaved them,' said Franka, shuddering.

Reiner nodded. 'There is no longer any doubt of Albrecht's intentions. He comes not as his brother's saviour, but as his slayer.' He whistled out a breath. 'I'm glad we will be nowhere near when Manfred gets pinched 'twixt that hammer and the Kurgan anvil.'

The last of the mindless troops trailed out of the town. Reiner shouldered his pack and stood, but the others hesitated, gazing after the receding column.

'Captain.' said Hals, uncertainly. 'We can't just...' He trailed off.

'What do you mean?' asked Reiner.

Hals scratched his neck and made a face. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. 'Captain. I know what I said before. I care not a fig what happens to Manfred. I hope he and Albrecht tear each other to pieces, but those lads back there in the camp...'

'And the ones in the column...' said Franka.

'Aye.' continued Hals. 'Them too. Enslaved or not, they're our mates. It's them who'll be pinched 'twixt hammer and anvil. It's them what will die in their thousands.'

'It ain't right to see Empire men fighting one another.' added Pavel. 'Brother against brother. It's wrong.'

'This is no war to protect Empire lands.' said Franka. 'Those men go to die so that Lady Magda can be a countess. So that Albrecht can take from his brother what he was not given at birth.'

Reiner swallowed a curse. He didn't like where this was going. 'So, do you say that we go and die as well? What side do you suggest we fight on?'

'I say that we do what Captain Veirt was trying to do when he died.' said Franka. 'Destroy the banner.'

Pavel and Hals nodded emphatically.

'Maybe we get our rewards then, hey?' said Giano.

'But what about freedom?' asked Reiner. 'What about Marienburg and Tilea and all the rest? What about drinking the world dry?'

The others shrugged uncomfortably. Even Giano wouldn't meet his eye.

'Sorry, captain.' said Hals at last.

Reiner groaned and looked longingly toward the path that rose up out of the valley. On the far side of that hill was the road to freedom. He had only to climb it and Albrecht, Manfred and Lady Magda would be mere unpleasant memories. What did he care about the fates of a few thousand peasants? It wasn't he who was leading them to their doom. All he wanted was a quiet life, free from evil banners, power-hungry nuns and mad barons. All he wanted was to be back in Altdorf or, if he must, Marienburg or Tilea, parting fools from their money by day and dallying with delicious doxies by night.

And yet...

And yet, though he was reluctant to admit it, the banner and the mindless marchers who followed it had sickened him as well. He had always had a problem with authority. That, more than any faintness of heart was the reason he had done his best to avoid serving in the army. He valued his individuality too much to obey orders without questioning them. He knew too many noble idiots - his beloved father came to mind, not to mention Erich von Eisenberg - to think that a lord was always right just because he was a lord. The idea of some eldritch relic that could remove one's ability to question an order, that took away one's individuality entirely and made of one a mindless drone, enslaved to the will of one's leader, filled him with outrage.

The banner was an abomination. He could imagine the whole Empire falling under its sway. A whole nation blindly following the whims of its leader, taking over its neighbours until there were no more Marienburgs or Tileas to escape to, until at last Reiner too marched along with all the others, just one more sheep happily following the butcher to the slaughterhouse.

'Right,' he said suddenly. 'On your feet. We'll need to cut wide to avoid their line of march, then hurry back on the double to beat them there.'

Pavel and Hals let out great sighs of relief. Franka smiled. Giano nodded. Oskar looked upset, but fell in line with the others as they started across the muddy stubblefields north of the village.

EIGHTEEN

The Claws Of The Manticore

The journey cross-country was harder than they expected. Climbing fieldstone walls and hunting for openings in high hedges slowed them down, and they were still as sore as they had been the evening before. Hals winced with each step, not just from the pain of his broken leg, but from the raw skin under his arm from the rubbing of his makeshift crutch.

Reiner shook his head as he surveyed them. What chance had the likes of them to destroy the banner? They would most likely have to fight Albrecht to do it, not to mention Erich and a host of knights. It was ridiculous. They were like beggars planning to storm Middenheim.

They lost sight of Albrecht's column as they stole back through Manfred's deserted camp and came at last upon the battlefield. From their position far behind Manfred's lines it was difficult to see anything, just a confusion of men and horses and horned helmets appearing and disappearing through drifting streamers of smoke. Reiner couldn't tell which, if any, were Albrecht's men or if they had even arrived yet.

'We need a better view,' he said. The steep hills to the right of the camp seemed a good vantage point. 'Up there.'

Hals groaned, but with Pavel assisting him he gamely limped up the slope behind the others. After a while, they found a goat path that made the climb easier and led them along the side of the hill to a spot where the battle was laid out before them like a painting.

They stood facing west above the branching of the Y-shaped valley. Nordbergbruche castle was a little to their north, rising from the promontory between the angled arms of the Y. Manfred's camp was to the south, well within the stem of the Y. From the armies' current positions, it was easy for Reiner to picture how the battle had begun. The Chaos troops had spilled out of the castle's gate and formed a long line that spanned the valley just below the branching arms. Manfred had lined up to face them in the mouth of the stem. He was outnumbered two to one, and was downhill from the Kurgan force, but he had two minor advantages: the steep hills on either side of the valley made it difficult for the Kurgan to flank him, and a rocky hill with a small wooden shrine of Sigmar at its top jutted up out of a thicket of bare-branched trees just inside the mouth of the stem, further narrowing the front that the Kurgan could attack him on, as well as providing a perfect platform for his mortars and cannon. The hill was virtually a cliff at its northern end, but sloped away gently to the south, and Manfred's army was split, one half on either side of it.

Unsurprisingly, Manfred's army had been giving ground. The Chaos force were forcing them into the stem like a hand-gunner packing wadding into the barrel of his gun. They had not yet pushed Manfred so far south that he had lost the advantage of the rocky hill, though this looked likely on the east side of the hill, where Manfred's forces were stretched thinner and the Kurgan forces were heaviest. If this happened it would be disaster for Manfred, for the Kurgan would then be able to sweep around the little hill from the south and attack the forces on the west side of the hill from the rear.

Hals sucked air through his teeth. 'Looks grim.'

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'But imagine how much worse it would be if we hadn't tipped the northers' cannon into the river. If they were firing that monster from the castle ramparts it might be over by now.'

'Where's Albrecht?' asked Franka.

'There,' said Oskar.

Reiner and the others looked where he was pointing. Through the haze of smoke that wafted over the battlefield, Reiner could just see a troop of knights riding out of patchy woods on a hillside on the far side of the valley. Albrecht was at their head, a vexillary holding aloft his family banner beside him. Several companies of swordsmen and handgunners followed the knights, and four cannon crews began to wheel their pieces into position. Somehow the baron had found a path through the hills and had come out north of the battle line. A charge down the steep hillside and he could take the Chaos force in the rear.

'And there,' said Oskar again, pointing south.

Reiner looked left. Out of Manfred's camp came company after company of spearmen, all marching in the disturbing loose-limbed gait Reiner's companions had seen before. They formed a broad front two hundred paces behind Manfred's lines.

'Does he support Manfred after all?' asked Pavel, confused. 'Have we been wrong all along?'

A great cheer went up as Manfred's beleaguered army noticed Albrecht's forces, and they began to fight with renewed vigour. The Kurgan saw the fresh troops as well, and began frantically trying to manoeuvre men into position to meet Albrecht's knights. But the elation of the men and the terror of the Kurgan were both short-lived, for strangely, though they were in excellent positions to attack and support, Albrecht's troops, both on the hill and behind Manfred's lines, remained where they were, silent watchers to the bloody battle before them.

'What is he waiting for?' asked Hals angrily. 'He could have 'em on the run.'

'Where is the banner?' asked Reiner.

They looked for it, but couldn't see it.

Meanwhile, the few feet of ground Manfred's troops had won back when the Chaos force had become confused by the new threat were rapidly being lost again as the northers fought desperately to beat the foe they faced before the new foe attacked.

Beside Reiner, Franka choked. 'There it is! On the little hill.'

Reiner and the others followed her gaze. Riding up the rocky hill in the centre of Manfred's line was Erich, mounted on his white charger and holding the vile banner in his lance socket.

Reiner could see Manfred's gun crews advancing toward the young knight, weapons drawn, but they didn't attack. Instead, the men fell to their knees before the banner and let him pass.

Erich reached the crest of the hill and raised the banner high over his head. It flapped thickly in the wind. Though there was no change in the weather, a pall seemed to fall across the whole valley, as if the banner sucked up light. Reiner felt a chill shiver through him. Franka moaned. The effect on the troops in the valley was even stronger. Manfred's men faltered and fell back all along his line, stunned into inaction by the banner's dread influence.

The Chaos troops hesitated as well, confused by this strange symbol, but they seemed not to fear it as the men of the Empire did, and took advantage of their foes' numb horror to press their attack. Manfred's army defended itself, but it was clear that their morale was at low ebb, and they fought as if distracted.

'We've got to reach that banner before it's too late,' said Franka.

'Is already too late,' said Giano. 'I want to help, but they dead men. We go, hey?'

Reiner shook his head. It was strange. He could hear the screams of the dying and the bellowing of captains and sergeants trying desperately to rally dispirited troops. He knew the situation was hopeless. He knew riding into that mess was suicide. If he did what was in his best interest, he would be slinking over the hill with his tail between his legs, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't let that stiff-necked clot Erich win the day. He couldn't let Lady Magda and that overstuffed sausage Albrecht have their way either. 'No. We stay. Come on. Straight for the hill.'

He started down the steep hill with his companions limping and grunting behind him. They reached the valley floor just south of Manfred's line, where field surgeons and camp followers were dragging the dead and the wounded away from the fighting, and broken men moaned on the ground. A hundred paces to their left, standing in eerie silence, was Albrecht's infantry: rank after rank of spearmen and archers gazing blankly forward like flesh statues. Reiner's companions began picking their way across the body-littered field. Dressed as they were in Empire colours, none of Manfred's troops paid them any mind.

Halfway across, a movement out of the corner of his eye made Reiner look up. On top of the rocky hill, Erich was standing in his stirrups and waving the evil banner in a circle over his head.

'Sigmar's hammer!' grunted Hals. 'Here they come.'

Reiner looked to his left. Albrecht's infantry were advancing in perfect unison, spears lowered, eyes dead. Behind them, the archers aimed at the sky and loosed their arrows.

'Run!' Reiner cried. 'Run for the hill!'

The company ran as fast as they could, hobbling and stumbling and cursing as a cloud of arrows arched overhead, momentarily blocking out the sun, then fell to earth like black rain. Fortunately, the archers' target was Manfred's line, and only a few that fell short landed near them. It wasn't so fortunate for Manfred's men, who screamed in surprise and terror as the arrows cut them down.

'The traitor!' cried Franka.

Over the shoulder of the rocky hill, Reiner could see that Albrecht and his knights had answered Erich's signal as well. They were charging down into the valley, lances levelled. From Reiner's vantage, it was impossible to see who they were attacking, but the barbaric howl of rage that echoed across the valley gave the answer. Albrecht had lowered the boom on the Kurgan at last.

'He attacks both sides!' barked Hals as he limped on. 'What is the mad fool about.'

'Mad?' gasped Reiner. 'He has more genius than I credited him with. He wants the castle for himself, so he waits until each side has weakened the other, then attacks both.'

They reached the thin woods that surrounded the rocky hill just as Albrecht's spears overran their latitude. Manfred's battle line, already much depleted, had divided into two back-to-back fronts, one line continuing to face the Kurgan, the other turning to face their ensorcelled brothers, who at the last twenty paces broke into a charge.

It was a disturbing sight, for Albrecht's troops showed no emotion as they rushed forward. They raised no battle cry, snarled no challenge, only stared dead ahead as they drove their spears into Manfred's ragged line in perfect unison. And yet for all their lack of emotion, they were savagely bloodthirsty, slashing and hacking like butchers, biting and clawing and gouging eyes as they came to grips with their foes, and all the while gazing blankly into the middle distance.

Adding to the slaughter was the fact that Manfred's troops were hesitant to attack the spearmen. Cries of 'Erhardt, what ails you? Do you not know me?' and 'Beren, brother, I beg you, stop!' rose over the melee, only to end in gurgling screams. Reiner heard a sob beside him and saw that Hals was weeping. The only factor even slightly in Manfred's troops' favour was that Albrecht's spears, though unimaginably fierce and brutal, were also clumsy and awkward - puppets manipulated by a poor master.

'Up the hill,' said Reiner, turning Hals away from the battle and pushing him into the bare woods. 'Hurry.'

But before they got far, they saw that the base of the slope was guarded by a unit of swordsmen, all with the glazed look of the slaves of the banner.

'This way,' said Reiner, and quietly led the others north along the side of the rising hill until the swordsmen were out of sight behind them. The hill angled up like a board pried out of a plank floor and the sides were steep. Reiner pushed through brambles and brush until he reached it.

'Oskar, take my arm.'

He helped the artilleryman mount the slanting strata while Pavel did the same for Hals. Franka and Giano spidered up around them. They pulled themselves over the edge a third of the way up the slope and crouched in a clump of bushes, looking down to see if the swords had noticed them. The men continued to stare blankly into the woods. Further up the hill Manfred's gun crews were back at work at their cannons, and it was with a sick lurch of the heart that Reiner realised that they were firing on their own troops. The banner had turned them against their own. Beyond the gun crews, at the crest of the hill, Erich stood, facing out over the battle field, banner held high. His back was protected by six more swordsmen. Lady Magda stood beside him, watching the battle intensely.

A grunt came from the nearest cannon. One of the crew was shambling toward them, eyes dull, his ramrod raised like a weapon. Reiner looked down the hill. The swords hadn't yet noticed him.

'Shoot him,' he whispered.

Franka hesitated. 'He isn't our enemy. He is one of Manfred's men.'

The man's grunts were getting louder as he tried to warn his fellows. He waved the ramrod around his head.

'No longer. Shoot him.'

'But his mind is not his own.'

A dull thwack sounded beside them and the crewman dropped with a crossbow bolt in his chest.

Giano shrugged and reloaded. 'Any man try to kill me is enemy.'

But he had silenced the man too late. The swordsmen had heard him, and were lumbering up the hill, while more cannoneers were turning their way.

'That's torn it,' said Reiner. 'We'll be surrounded in a minute.'

'Just a moment,' said Oskar suddenly. 'I have an idea.' He hurried toward the approaching cannon crew.

'Oskar!' Reiner groaned, then started after him. 'Come on you lot,' he said over his shoulder. 'It's now or never.'

'Since when does that one have ideas?' growled Hals, as he and the others followed.

Oskar dodged around the gunners' clumsy swings and ran for their gun. Pavel clubbed one of the gunners aside with the haft of his spear and Reiner kicked the other to the ground, reluctant despite his orders to Franka to kill the befuddled soldiers.

At the cannon, Oskar uncorked a keg of black powder, stuffed a length of lit match-cord in the hole, and kicked it down the hill. It rolled and bounced down the slope toward the advancing swords, fuse fizzing, as he primed a second keg.

Reiner grinned. Itwas a good idea. He hadn't thought the gunner had it in him.

As Oskar started the second keg rolling, the first hit one of the advancing swordsmen in the chest, knocking him flat. The others turned somnambulantly to look at him - and paid the price. The keg exploded amidst them, blowing them all to red ruin.

Oskar gaped. 'They... they didn't run.'

Reiner grimaced. 'You haven't been paying attention.'

The second keg bounded past the troops' maimed bodies and exploded in the woods at the base of the hill. A dozen trees caught fire, and the flames began to spread.

'That'll keep reinforcements at bay,' said Pavel.

'They won't need reinforcements,' said Hals. 'This lot'll do for us.'

Reiner looked behind him. All the men on the hill had turned at the explosion. The gun crews were leaving their cannon and advancing on them, and Lady Magda, Erich, and his swords were staring at them.

'Scum!' cried Erich, stepping toward them. 'Do you still plague me?'

'No,' said Lady Magda, holding him back. 'The banner must stay here.'

'As you wish, lady,' said Erich, shrugging off her hand. 'There is no need to move. Back to your cannon!' he called to the gun crews. 'I'll handle this rabble.'

The artillerymen obeyed like sheep.

'Shoot him!' shouted Reiner, drawing his pistols, as Erich started to turn the banner. 'Kill him!'

Franka and Giano raised their bows as Oskar aimed his handgun by laying the long barrel across the splint of his broken wrist.

'Hold your fire!' Erich commanded, and to Reiner's chagrin, he found it impossible to disobey the order. He could not force his fingers to squeeze the triggers. The others were similarly affected, shaking with the effort to shoot.

Hands shaking, Giano finally fired his crossbow, but the bolt flew off at an angle. 'Curse it!' said the Tilean, frustrated. 'My hands no listen!'

'It's the banner,' said Franka, her arms trembling as she held her bow at full draw.

Erich laughed and raised the banner, pointing at them with his free hand as his six swordsmen advanced. 'Kneel, soldiers! Listen to your leader. I am your rightful captain, you must follow my orders. Kneel and bow your heads.'

To Reiner's left and right Pavel, Hals and Oskar fell to their knees. Their chins dropped to their chests, though he could see them struggling to raise them. Reiner felt an almost unconquerable urge to follow suit. Erichwas their rightful leader. He was the most senior officer now that Veirt was dead, and he was so strong and brave and had so much more experience than Reiner. It would be such a relief to let the mantle of command slip from his shoulders and let someone else lead again. Reiner's knees bent, but as he looked up to his beloved leader, he paused halfway to the ground.

Erich's face was twisted in a smug sneer, a jarring discontinuity with the noble image of him Reiner held in his head. He froze as his mind fought to reconcile the two pictures. To his left he saw that Giano and Franka were similarly halted in mid-genuflection.

Erich's swordsmen were closing, moving not like soldiers of the Empire, but like apes, hunched and menacing, eyes blank, mouths slack. Reiner tried to move, but his limbs couldn't answer the conflicting commands his mind was sending them.

The first swordsman reached Franka and raised his sword like an executioner. Franka shook with the effort to leap away, but could not. The sword was coming down.

'No!' barked Reiner, and fired his first pistol without thinking, blasting a ball up through the swordsman's jaw and out of the top of his head. The man dropped, gouting blood and spilling brains, and Reiner found that this small disobedience had broken the banner's hold on him. He could move.

The pistol's report had freed Franka and Giano as well. They stumbled back from the attacking swordsmen, gasping and cursing, but Oskar, Pavel and Hals were still frozen, sagging bonelessly to the ground. The swordsmen closed to cut them down.

Franka, Reiner and Giano jumped forward again to defend their comrades. Franka lunged under a swinging blade with her dagger, but was clubbed to the ground by the swordsman's elbow. Reiner blocked a sword that swung for Oskar's head, then shot its owner through the heart with his second pistol. Giano threw his crossbow in a swordsman's face and stabbed him through the heart with his sword.

'Kneel, curse you!' Erich bellowed, but they were too busy to listen.

'Hals! Pavel! Oskar!' cried Reiner as he parried two blades. 'Wake up!'

Franka stumbled up, dazed. A swordsman pulled back his sword to hack at her. She dodged unsteadily to the side and he missed. Reiner chopped through the man's shoulder to the bone. He looked up dully and stabbed at Reiner as if he hadn't felt the blow at all.

Surprised, Reiner forgot to parry, and had to drop desperately to the ground to avoid the thrust. The swordsman raised his sword for the killing blow, but suddenly a spear thrust up into his ribs. Reiner glanced to the side. Pavel clung to the spear like a lifeline.

'Thank'ee, lad,' said Reiner, rising. He hamstrung the swordsman and turned to face another.

Pavel was still too muddled to answer. Beside him, Hals was slapping himself in the face and cursing, fighting the banner with all his will. Reiner and Giano guarded them. Oskar crawled away from the melee, dragging his gun.

Three swordsmen remained. They fought with crude strength, but little finesse. If Reiner and his companions had been in good health and in full possession of their faculties they would have made short work of them, but dazed and wounded as they were, they were nearly as ungainly as their mesmerized opponents. The swordsmen's attacks smashed into their parries with numbing force, and they shrugged off wounds that would have had normal men screaming.

Franka helped Reiner kill another sword, cutting his throat with her dagger from behind while Reiner kept him busy.

'Go on, captain,' called Hals as the swordsman fell. 'We've these last two. Go teach that brainless jagger a lesson.'

Reiner looked to where Erich and Lady Magda watched the fight with anxious eyes. He didn't want to face von Eisenberg one on one, especially when the knight had the power of the banner giving him strength. But someone had to do it. With a sigh he plucked a pistol from the belt of a fallen swordsman and started up the hill as his companions fought on behind him. Smoke and sparks blew all around him as the woods that surrounded the hill burned like brittle hay. It was almost impossible to see the battlefield through the flames.

Erich thrust the banner at him. 'Kneel, dog! As Baron Albrecht's vexillary, I command you! Do as he ordered! Obey me!'

Lady Magda smirked as Reiner staggered, the force of the order like a yoke on his neck, bearing down on him. The urge to kneel and kiss the ground was nearly overpowering. But having fought it off once, it was easier to disobey a second time. He kept walking, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

'Sorry, von Eisenberg,' he said, forcing the words through his lips. 'You've picked the wrong troops to try your sorceries on. Brig scum are terrible at following orders.'

With a squeak of fear, Lady Magda backed away, then turned and ran to the edge of the cliff. She snatched up a yellow flag from the ground and began to wave it vigorously over her head.

Reiner paid her no mind. He raised his pistol and aimed at Erich.

'Put it down, Hetzau,' called Erich. 'I command you.'

Reiner fought the order and kept hold of the gun, but only just. Firing it was out of the question. His fingers would not obey him.

Erich laughed and slashed at him with his free hand. The knight was unarmed, and ten paces away, and yet Reiner flew back as if punched in the chest with a battering ram. He crashed to the ground, gasping, a fiery pain burning his ribs and abdomen. He looked down at himself. His leather jerkin was untouched, but blood was seeping through his shirt. He tore it open. Three deep gashes had opened the flesh of his abdomen. He could see the white of his ribs through one. He winced in agony.

'The claws of the manticore,' he croaked.

'The claws of thegriffin,' said Erich, smug. 'To rend the enemies of the Empire.'

He slashed again. Reiner rolled to the side and claw marks appeared in the turf where he'd lain.

'If you still think you're fighting for the Empire, you're more of a fool than I thought,' grunted Reiner. 'And griffin or manticore, it's still an unfair advantage.'

'Unfair?' said Erich, offended. 'This is a holy weapon.'

Reiner tied his jerkin as tightly as he could against his wounds. 'And I have only this sword.' He climbed unsteadily to his feet, hissing with pain, and glared up at Erich, who looked like a hero in a painting, his head haloed by the sun. 'I thought you were a man of honour, Erich. A gentleman. What's has become of level ground? Of fair play and a choice of weapons?'

'Why should I play fair when you cheated in our last encounter?'

'I did not cheat. Hals acted on his own. I was perfectly willing to fight another touch with you, only fate intervened.'

'A likely story,' sneered Erich.

'Think what you like,' said Reiner, 'but here I am, ready to go again, to prove who is the better man, and you attack me with invisible claws and muddle my mind with the power of the banner. Dare you call that fair? Dare you call yourself a gentlemen?'

'You question my honour, sir?'

'I do until you put down that banner and fight me man to man.'

'Don't listen to him, you fool!' cried Lady Magda, hurrying back from the cliff-edge. 'You must not put down the banner.'

'Lady, please,' said Erich. 'This is a quarrel between men.' He glared at Reiner. 'How do I know you won't cheat me again?'

Reiner put his hand on his heart. 'You have my word as a gentleman and the son of a Knight of the Bower. I will fight you in accordance with the rules of knightly combat. May Sigmar strike me down if I lie.'

Erich hesitated, frowning.

Lady Magda balled her fists. 'You clothheaded infant, I order you to hold fast to the banner and kill this man instantly.'

This seemed to decide Erich. He raised the banner high over his head, then jammed it savagely into the ground so that it stood on its own. He turned to Reiner, removing his sword belt and drawing his beautiful long sword. 'So,' he said. 'To the death this time?'

'Oh yes,' said Reiner, and shot him in the face. The ball smashed through Erich's nose and exploded out the back of his head with a spray of gore. The knight folded like a house of cards, an expression of surprise frozen on his ruined face. He was dead before he hit the ground.

'You were right after all, Erich.' said Reiner as he threw the pistol aside. 'Iam a cheat.'

NINETEEN

I Will Not Fail Again

Reiner looked from Erich's lifeless body to Valnir's Bane, stuck in the ground beside it. The banner was within his grasp, all he had to do was to throw it into the burning trees below and it would be destroyed, yet he hesitated to touch it. He forced his hand to reach for it.

'No!' Lady Magda shrieked and launched herself at him with a stiletto. He cuffed her to the ground and turned on her, raising his sword. 'Fine, I'll finish you first.'

She rolled out of reach, then laughed and pointed behind him. 'You insect. Turn and face your doom!'

Reiner looked over his shoulder. Bursting out of the wall of fire that cut off the base of the hill was Baron Albrecht and ten of his knights, their steeds mad with fear, manes and tails smoking.

Reiner's men, standing over the bodies of the swordsmen they had only just defeated, turned as well and stared at the squadron of knights advancing up the slope toward them. Hals lay on the ground, clutching a wound in his good leg, no longer good. Reiner noticed with superstitious dread that sparks from the burning trees had set the little shrine of Sigmar on fire and it burned like a torch. Not a good omen.

The knights lowered their lances and charged the companions. They stepped back wearily, too dazed to run. There seemed no way to prevent them from being run down. Unless...

Suddenly inspired, Reiner snatched up the cursed banner and ran forward, his slashed ribs screaming in protest at the awkward weight. The haft bit his hands with crackling black energy. It surged up his arms and made his joints throb in agony.

'Stop!' he shouted. 'Albrecht! Knights, I command you! In the name of Valnir, stop and turn back!'

Albrecht and his knights reined up hard, their chargers rearing and plunging, as if suddenly faced with a stone wall. One fell from the saddle.

Albrecht forced his horse down and reached for his sword.

'Fall back!' bellowed Reiner. 'Turn about! Down the hill.'

Albrecht froze, his hand halfway to his hilt, fighting the banner's influence with all his concentration, but his knights obeyed the order without a fight, wheeling their horses and starting down the hill again. At the base, the horses shied from entering the burning woods again, and would not continue. The knights spurred them savagely. The horses wheeled and bucked, throwing off their riders, who, horribly, picked themselves up and walked into the burning trees. Through the flames, Reiner could see their cloaks and tabards catching fire as the flames leapt at them. Reiner winced. It was horrible death.

Albrecht remained where he was, visibly shaking as he tried to ignore Reiner's order.

'Turn about, baron!' called Reiner. 'I am your leader now. I command you to charge down the hill!'

Albrecht began haltingly to turn, cursing and sweating as his hands jerked the horse's reins to the right against his will.

Reiner laughed. Baron Albrecht was obeying his commands! What a delicious joke. A giddy thrill ran up his spine. With the power of the banner coursing through him, he could make anyone do anything. A vision of ordering his father to kiss his own arse flashed across his mind, but that was mere childish vengeance. With power such as this he could do great things. It was a dark power, true, but if a man was strong enough to control it, it could be made to work for good. He could right grievous wrongs, depose cruel despots, force evil men to lay down their arms. Or better yet, he thought with a chuckle, he could turn them against each other, make evil fight evil for once, and slaughter each other to the last man. Wash the world clean with their blood. He would be king! Emperor! He would remake the world in his...

A searing pain erupted in his back. Something sharp ground between his ribs. He shrieked and dropped the banner. The here-and-now snapped back around him. Magda was drawing back her stiletto to stab him again. He backhanded her across the mouth. She fell on top of the banner.

Hissing in pain, Reiner turned, raising his sword, 'You should have cut my throat, sister.'

'Stand, villain!'

Reiner looked over his shoulder. Albrecht had returned to himself, and was dismounting his charger.

'Touch not the lady!' he said, striding forward and drawing his long sword. His blue-hued plate flashed darkly in the sun.

'The lady is a conniving seductress who has turned you against your brother and your homeland,' said Reiner, stepping back. But despite his brave words, he felt like a rabbit in the path of a chariot. Albrecht was stronger, fresher, better armed and armoured - not to mention a head taller. He braced for the baron's swing.

A shot rang out. Albrecht staggered as one of his shoulder pieces spun off, holed and twisted. Behind the baron Reiner could see Oskar, kneeling near the unconscious Hals, lowering his smoking handgun. Franka and Giano fired as well, but their missiles glanced off Albrecht's armour. Pavel was shambling forward, dragging his spear. Reiner's heart swelled. He had forgotten. He was not alone.

Albrecht recovered and closed with Reiner, swinging mightily. Reiner ducked and stepped past the baron to hack at his back. His sword bounced off the shining plate, ineffectual, and he had to twist away as Albrecht lashed out behind him.

'Hold him, captain,' called Pavel. 'We're coming.'

Oskar had dropped his gun and Giano his crossbow and they were limping after Pavel, swords drawn. Franka was circling wide, nocking another arrow.

'Lady Magda,' Albrecht shouted. 'Take cover. I will deal with these traitors.'

'No,' said Lady Magda as she pulled herself to her feet. 'The banner must fly or the battle is lost.' With an effort she lifted the Bane and staggered with it toward the crest of the hill.

'Someone stop her!' called Reiner, dodging a thrust from Albrecht. 'Knock down that banner.'

Pavel and Giano turned, but it was Oskar who ran after the abbess. 'I have failed you too often, captain,' he cried. 'She will not escape me again!'

'Be careful!' called Reiner, but Albrecht's sword was in his face and he could spare Oskar no more of his attention. He parried and, with Pavel and Giano, began circling the baron like dogs baiting a bull... They lunged in with their swords and spears as he spun this way and that.

'Dishonourable knaves,' Albrecht gasped, his face red within his helmet. 'Three on one? Is this how men of the Empire fight?'

Reiner danced in and cut Albrecht across the calf. 'Do men of the Empire enslave their subjects with sorcery and pit them against their brothers? Do men of the Empire slay their own kin to win power?'

'My brother is weak!' said Albrecht. 'He does Karl-Franz's bidding like a lap-dog, and refuses to join me in ridding the mountains of Chaos for good and all.'

'And so you bring a new evil to the land to fight the first?'

'You know not of what you speak.'

As he circled, Reiner saw, over Albrecht's shoulder, Oskar catch up to Lady Magda. The abbess turned at his approach, raising her hand to command him, but Oskar shielded his eyes and slashed at her with his sword. It was a weak strike, hardly more than a scratch across the back of Lady Magda's hand, but it was enough to cause her to yelp and drop the banner, which fell against Oskar's chest.

Lady Magda leapt at the artilleryman like a wild cat, stiletto held high. He blocked it with the haft of the banner and bashed her in the face with the pommel of his sword. She dropped like a stone.

'Magda!' cried Albrecht, as the sister sprawled limp on the grass. He started toward her, his own combat suddenly forgotten.

The three companions took advantage and lunged in together, but once again Albrecht's armour defeated them. Giano's sword caromed off his helmet. Pavel's spear pierced his leg guard, but not deep enough to wound him. Reiner's sword skidded off his chest plate.

With a howl of fury, Albrecht lashed out at them. He kicked Giano to the ground, cut a deep gash in Pavel's shoulder, then slashed back at Reiner and caught him a glancing blow to the scalp.

Reiner dropped, eyes unfocused with pain, the world spinning around him. He felt the ground hit his back, but wasn't sure where the rest of his body was. Albrecht was a blurry form above him, raising his sword over his head. Reiner knew this was bad, but couldn't remember why.

Franka's voice echoed in his ears. 'Reiner! No!'

The shaft of an arrow buried itself deep in Albrecht's armpit, sticking out of the gap between his breastplate and his rerebrace. Albrecht roared in agony and dropped his sword. It fell point-first, dangerously close to Reiner's ear. Reiner rolled up, weaving wildly, all balance gone, and stabbed blind at Albrecht with all his might. The tip impaled the baron's left eye. Reiner felt it smash through the back of the socket and enter his brain.

Albrecht dropped to his knees, wrenching the sword from Reiner's grip. He swayed but didn't fall. Reiner grabbed his hilt again, put a foot on the baron's chest and shoved. Albrecht's face slid off the blade and he crashed to the side like a wagon full of scrap metal tipping into a ditch.

'Cursed lunatic,' spat Reiner, and sat down hard, clutching his bloody, buzzing head.

'Reiner! Captain!' cried Franka, running to kneel beside him. 'Are you hurt?'

Reiner looked up. His vision cleared. The girl's face was so full of sweet concern that all at once Reiner wanted to crush her to him. 'I...'

Their eyes locked. There was an instant of perfect communication between them, where Reiner suddenly knew that Franka wanted to hold him as much as he wanted to hold her. This was followed by a second look, in which, still without speaking, they both agreed that this was neither the time nor the place, and that the charade must continue.

With a forced grin, Reiner broke eye contact and clapped Franka heartily on the shoulder. 'Why I'm fine lad, just fine. Nothing a needle and thread won't fix.'

Franka grinned in return. 'I'm happy to hear it.'

It sounded like bad acting in Reiner's ears, but Pavel and Giano were struggling to their feet on either side of them, so he carried on.

'And I am happy with your shooting,' said Reiner. 'You saved my bacon with that shot.'

'Thank you, sir.'

Pavel looked up the hill and groaned. 'Lady of Mercy, what's he done now?'

Reiner turned. At the crest of the hill, Oskar stood hunched, still holding the banner, his face twisted in a grimace of agony.

'Oskar!' called Reiner. 'Oskar! Drop it! Put it down!'

Oskar didn't move. He was frozen to the spot, shaking like a man in a high fever. His face was drenched in sweat, the yellow glow of the burning shrine of Sigmar shining upon it. He spoke through clenched teeth. 'I... cannot.'

Reiner and the others started toward him.

'No!' he cried. 'Come no closer! It makes me want to do terrible things.'

Reiner took another step. 'Come now. You must fight...'

Oskar swiped the banner at him. 'Please, captain! Stay back! I cannot control it!'

Reiner cursed. 'Oskar, you must put it down. While you hold it aloft it continues to control Albrecht's troops.'

'I know,' said Oskar miserably.

'I held it,' said Reiner. 'I know what it whispers to you. But you must fight it. You must...' Reiner trailed off as he realised that he hadn't been able to put the banner down of his own volition either. It was Magda's knife in the back that had saved him.

Tears ran down Oskar's frozen face. 'I cannot fight it, captain. I am weak. You know I am. I...' With an agonised cry he slashed at them again with the banner and staggered forward a few steps, then forced himself to stop. He looked like a man struggling to hold his ground against a giant kite. 'No,' he muttered furiously. 'I will not fail again. I will not.'

Straining as if he had the weight of a mountain on his shoulders, Oskar straightened and turned away from them. He took a step toward the shrine of Sigmar. Then another. He moved like a man in quicksand.

'Very good, Oskar,' said Reiner. 'Throw it in the fire. That's a good man.'

Oskar closed on the shrine at a snail's pace, but at last stood mere feet from the fire. He reached out, and Reiner and the others could see his arms shake with the effort of trying to let go of the banner. It remained in his hands.

'Sigmar help me,' he wailed. 'But I cannot. I cannot!'

Reiner stepped forward again. 'Oskar, be strong!' he called. 'Be strong!'

'Yes,' hissed Oskar, through his teeth. He closed his eyes. 'Yes. I will be strong.'

And as Reiner and the others stared, aghast, he walked slowly, but deliberately, into the roaring flames of the burning shrine.

Franka screamed. Reiner shouted something, but he wasn't sure it was words.

'Oh, laddie,' murmured Pavel.

They could see, through the sheets of flame, Oskar standing in the middle of the shrine, shoulders back, burning like a candle, his clothes and hair charring, his skin crackling and bubbling. The flames raced up the pike and the banner caught, first only at the edges, which burned with a weird purple light, then all at once. There was a sound that was more than the roar of flames, a deep rumbling howl of inhuman fury that made Reiner's hair stand on end, and then, with a deafening crack, the banner exploded.

Reiner and the others were knocked flat by a blast larger than all the battle's cannon shots put together. A huge ball of purple flame erupted above the shrine as its splintered timbers spun past them like straw in a tempest. The last thing Reiner saw - or at least thought he saw - as he lost consciousness was a daemonic face, screaming with rage, boiling out of the fireball. Then it was gone, lost in billows of thick, grey smoke, and the blissful black of concussion.

TWENTY

Your Greatest Service

Reiner opened his eyes. Thick smoke was still rising around him, so he couldn't have been out long. Groaning like an old man, he sat up and looked around. There was no trace of Oskar or the shrine of Sigmar except a patch of burned earth. Franka was getting to her hands and knees beside him. Giano was hissing as he pulled a dagger-long splinter of wood out of the meat of his arm. Pavel sat with his head between his knees, holding his face.

There was an irregular thumping behind them. They turned. Hals was crutching their way, the sleeve of his shirt tied around his head. 'So, we're alive then,' he said. 'Who'da thought, hey?'

'All but Oskar,' said Franka.

'Aye,' said Hals. 'I saw the end of that. Braver than we gave him credit for, I reckon.'

The boom of a cannon made them look up. Manfred's gun crews were at their pieces again, firing down at the battlefield below. Reiner and the others levered themselves to their feet and limped to the cliff edge, and discovered to their great relief that the crews were firing at the Chaos troops again.

'That's the stuff, lads!' cried Hals, waving his crutch. 'Give 'em some pepper!'

The same thing was happening all over the field. Though the battle was such a jumble that it was difficult to see what was happening, at last it became apparent that Albrecht's troops, finally free of the banner's evil influence, were coming to their senses and joining their brothers in Manfred's army in attacking the Kurgan and driving them back toward the castle. Where before there had been tangled knots of frightened men fighting any who approached them, now the clarion calls of horn and drum were rallying the men of both armies into cohesive units which attacked their common foe with renewed fury. The pall of gloom was lifting from the field with the clearing smoke. The sun shone brightly on the burnished helms and breastplates of the Imperial knights and the ranked spear points of the state troops. The Kurgan, who seconds ago had had the upper hand, now found themselves outnumbered, and fell back in confusion. All over the field, companies of marauders were breaking and fleeing before the newly ordered ranks of the Imperials.

Franka, Pavel and Hals cheered.

Giano gave a satisfied grunt. 'We do our job, hey? They paying us now? Give us reward?'

Reiner nodded. 'Aye, I hope so. We've done the hard work. Killed Erich and Albrecht and...' He stopped, then spun, cursing. 'The witch! Where is she? We've forgotten the evil harridan who was the cause of it all.'

The others turned as well, looking for Lady Magda. She was no longer where Oskar had laid her out. They looked down the slope. She was nowhere to be seen.

'Curse the woman,' said Reiner. 'She's as slippery as an Altdorf barrister. Find her.'

But though they combed the hill all the way down to the smouldering woods, Lady Magda was nowhere to be found.

'She's flown the coop, captain,' said Pavel as they all gathered at the crest again.

Hals spat. 'Wouldn't I have liked to have seen her burn at the stake?'

Franka nodded. 'Better her than poor Oskar.'

They surveyed the field again. While they had searched, the battle had come to an end. There was still some mopping up going on, but for the most part the Kurgan had retired from the field, scrambling into the hills above Nordbergbruche castle and back into their holes. A large force of Empire troops was marching up the causeway to the castle gates and meeting little resistance.

Reiner turned away from the scene with a weary grunt, looking for a place to sit and tend his wounds, when he saw movement at the bottom of the hill. Knights were advancing up toward them at a walk, supported by a company of greatswords. It was Manfred.

Reiner sighed. 'Here comes his nibs. Time to face the music.'

He tried to brush the soot and dirt from his jerkin and tidy up his kit as best he could. The others did the same. It was pointless. They all looked like they'd been dragged through a briar patch backwards.

Manfred reined to a stop before his brother's body, his generals around him. He gave the corpse a long, sad look.

Reiner swallowed, nervous, and saluted. 'My lord. I can explain. It is as I said before. The banner, which you must have seen, gave Albrecht...'

Manfred held up his hand. 'There is no need to explain, you blackhearts. 'Tis obvious what happened here. You have disobeyed me by escaping from the confinement I put you in, and you have killed my noble brother.' He turned to the captain of the greatswords. 'Captain Longrin, fetch a litter for my brother's body and bring him to his rooms in Nordbergbruche once they have been prepared. Be sure to drape the banner of our house over him, that all may know that a hero died today. Then arrest these men and see that their wounds are seen to. It wouldn't do for them to die before I had the pleasure of hanging them. When they are presentable, have them brought to me. I wish to interrogate them personally.' He reined his horse around. 'Now let us hurry. I want to see what those animals have done to my home.'

The greatswords advanced on Reiner and the others, who stood open-mouthed with shock. They had expected angry questions, or an argument over whether they had done right or wrong, but this curt dismissal flabbergasted them.

'Y'ungrateful bastard,' snarled Hals at Manfred's retreating back. 'Y'bleeding boil on Sigmar's arse. Y'don't know when somebody's done ye a favour, do ye? Well I hope y'get the pox and it falls off.' He spit. 'I wish I had it to do all over again. I woulda' took the hanging at the beginning and saved myself the trouble.'

Captain Longrin slapped Hals across the face with a mailed glove, knocking him to the ground. 'That'll be enough of that, gallows bird.' He motioned to his men. 'Bind 'em, lads. They've still some fight in 'em.'

The greatswords tied the wrists of the company and marched them down the hill.

'Curse all counts,' said Reiner bitterly. 'Never will I trust another.'

'Hear hear,' said Franka.

But Manfred was as good as his word, at least in one regard. Reiner and his companions received the best care. Their wounds were salved and bound, their broken limbs set and wrapped in plaster casts. They were fed and cleaned and dressed in plain, but well-made clothes, and then placed in an empty barracks tent to wait upon Manfred's pleasure, under a much more alert guard than before.

Pavel, Hals and Giano took advantage of the delay to lie on the cots and get some shut-eye, but Franka sat huddled in a corner, glaring at nothing. The company had been separated in the hospital tent as their various hurts had been seen to, and Reiner suddenly realised that Franka's masquerade might have been discovered.

He sat down next to her and spoke in a whisper. 'Er, has your, er, manhood survived?'

She shook her head. 'I fought them, but they gave me a bath.'

Reiner sighed. She choked out a sob and butted her head against his shoulder. 'I don't want to go back!'

He put an arm around her. 'Shhh, now. Shhh. You'll wake the others.' He chuckled bleakly. 'And there's no fear of you going back. They'll hang you with the rest of us.'

She fought to smile. 'Aye, there's a comfort.'

After another hour, as the sunset turned the walls of the tent a deep glowing orange, a captain of the guard opened the flap. 'File out, scum.'

They stood, hissing and groaning, their wounds stiff, and followed him out. A double file of greatswords flanked them as they marched through the camp and came at last again to Manfred's magnificent tent. The captain held the canvas aside and they entered one by one.

It was dark in the tent, only a few candles illuminating the rich fabrics and dark woods of Manfred's furniture. Manfred sat in a fur-draped chair. Three more men sat in the shadows behind him. All were dressed in fine clothes and fur cloaks. To Reiner's surprise, there were no guards present, and five empty camp chairs waited for them, facing Manfred.

The companions hesitated in the doorway.

'Forgive me for not seeing you in my home,' said Manfred. 'But the savages have made it unlivable. There is much cleaning to be done. Please sit.'

They sat, looking around suspiciously, afraid it was some new kind of trap.

'Gollenz!' called the count. 'Wine for our guests.'

A servant came out of the shadows with goblets of wine on a silver tray. Reiner and his companions took them as warily as they had taken their seats. Perhaps Manfred meant to watch them die in throes of agony from poisoned wine. Or perhaps he meant to drug them to make them talk.

When the servant had retired, Manfred leaned forward. He coughed, seemingly embarrassed. 'Er, I want to apologise for the deception I employed earlier. There was indeed no need to explain, for when that unholy banner appeared on the hilltop, I knew that you had told the truth, and that my brother did mean to slay me.'

'But then...' said Reiner.

Manfred held up a hand. 'I and the Empire owe you all a debt of gratitude that we can never repay. You, more than any others in my army, have won this day, and the destruction of the Bane has prevented its influence from spreading any further. You have saved the Empire from a long and fratricidal war.'

'So...' said Reiner.

Manfred coughed again. 'Unfortunately, in these troubled times, with the great war over but the cost not yet counted, and the rebuilding still to be done, the morale of the citizenry is low. It would not do for them to believe that their lords were so weak that they could be corrupted as Albrecht was corrupted. They must not learn of his betrayal and the falling out between us. It would shake their faith in the nobility just when they most need us to be strong.'

A cold coil of dread snaked around Reiner's heart. Something bad was coming.

'Therefore.' said Manfred. 'Though it pains me to do it, you will still charged with Albrecht's crimes.'

'What!' barked Hals.

'The public needs a villain, a focus for their hatred. A scapegoat who can be disposed of so that life can return to normal.'

'And we're it.' said Reiner hollowly.

Manfred nodded. 'It will be your greatest service to the Empire.'

Hals pounded the arm of his chair and rose. 'Y'twisty little worm! Y'admit we saved your skin, and the Empire's, and still ye mean to give us the drop? I'm starting to wonder if we're fighting on the right side!'

Manfred raised his hand again. 'I haven't finished.' He waited until Hals sank back into his chair. 'I said it will be your greatest service to the Empire, but it will not be your last. You will be hanged with great public spectacle in Middenheim in a week's time.'

Franka tried to hold in a sob, but failed.

'At least.' continued Manfred, 'the crowd will believe it to be you. In reality it will be some other garrison scum: deserters, saboteurs, the like.'

A spark of hope kindled in Reiner's chest. 'So you mean to free us after all?'

'You will be freed, eventually. But first you will have the honour of further serving your Empire.'

The spark of hope fizzled out, and the feeling of foreboding began to creep over him again. 'How so?'

Manfred smiled thinly. 'The more I thought about what you accomplished here today, and the lengths you went to achieve it, the more I came to believe that we could make use of you.' He leaned forward again. 'The Empire needs blackhearts like yourselves - men who will do things that would be beyond the pale to the average soldier, men who are not awed by rank or power, who think for themselves and keep their wits in desperate situations.' He took a sip of wine. 'Battles are not the only way the Empire stays strong. There are less honourable deeds that must be done to keep our homeland safe. Deeds no true-hearted knight could allow himself to undertake. Deeds only knaves, villains and dishonoured men could stomach.'

'Y'high-talking twister!' growled Hals. 'All yer fine manners and all yer asking is for us to do your back-stabbing for ye!'

'Precisely,' said Manfred. 'After your doppelgangers are executed, you will become invisible. No one in the world but myself and the men you see before you will know that you still live. You will be ciphers, able to enter any situation and become who we wish you to be. The perfect spies.'

'And what if your perfect spies decide they don't want to do your dirty work?' asked Reiner. 'What if they decide to slip their leashes? These brands are only a death sentence within the Empire.'

'Aye,' said Giano, crossing his arms. 'I be my own man. No one control me.'

'Do we not?' asked Manfred. 'My brother had the right idea, branding you, but his methods were crude.' He motioned to the man behind him on his left, a white-bearded ancient in the black robes of a scholar. 'Magus Handfort is a member of the royal college of alchemy. He has developed a poison that can be activated from afar, at any time he chooses. While the surgeons were tending to your wounds, they rubbed this poison into your cuts.' He raised his hand as Reiner and his friends began to stand and protest. 'Take your ease, please. The solution is perfectly harmless until the magus reads aloud a particular incantation. Only then will you die a horrible agonising death.' He smiled, as warmly as if he were wishing them a happy and prosperous new year. 'And he will only read the incantation if you fail to report back to me at the end of the assignments I shall give you.'

'You swine,' said Reiner. 'You're worse than your brother. At least he offered a reward if we completed our mission. At least there was to be an end to our bondage.'

'My brother never intended to honour his end of the bargain, as you well know,' said Manfred. 'And he used you for his own interests, whereas now you will be working for the good of the Empire.'

'He said that too,' said Pavel.

'You will be well rewarded,' continued Manfred. 'When duty does not call you, you will live well indeed, within the walls of my castle. And when this time of crisis is over and the terror is at last vanquished, you will be freed from your service and given riches enough to build entire new lives. In addition, as you have all died, all your crimes will die with you.' He gave Franka a significant look. 'Your secrets will remain buried in your past, and you may live as you choose, new men.'

Reiner and his companions looked blankly at Manfred as he sat back and folded his hands in his lap.

'So,' he said. 'What have you to say? Do you take my offer? Will you help the Empire in its hour of need?'

'I'll say what I said to your brother,' sneered Reiner. 'We haven't much choice have we?'

'No,' said Manfred. 'You have not.'

A short while later, riding toward Nordbergbruche castle in a coach with heavily curtained windows, Reiner and his companions looked at each other glumly.

'That some loads of horse mess, hey?' said Giano.

'Aye,' said Pavel. 'Until the terror is vanquished, he says. The Empire has stood for two thousand years and there's always been some terror or other banging on the gates.'

'We're in it for the duration all right,' said Hals.

'Isn't there anything we can do?' asked Franka.

Reiner shook his head. 'Not unless we can find a way to flush the magus's poison from our system. But until then...'

'Until then,' said Pavel, 'they have us.'

'Aye,' growled Hals. 'By the short hairs.'

Reiner laughed and couldn't stop. His life might have become a never-ending nightmare, but at least the company was good.

ROTTEN FRUIT

Nathan Long

It isn't often a man gets to witness his own hanging, but Reiner Hetzau was being given the privilege. He didn't much care for it.

It was a week after the battle of Nordbergbruche, where Reiner and his companions had helped Count Manfred Valdenheim reclaim his family castle from the Kurgan who had occupied it since the Chaos invasion. This despite the fact that Manfred's younger brother Albrecht had turned on him, attacking him with two thousand troops, all under the spell of the cursed banner, Valnir's Bane, which had turned them into bloodthirsty automatons. If Reiner and his companions hadn't slain Albrecht and destroyed the banner, the day would have been lost. And for this great service to Manfred and the Empire, Reiner and his companions were to hang. At least it was to appear so.

'Poor damn butcher lambs,' said Giano, the Tilean mercenary, as he peered through the slats of the louvre-windowed coach Reiner shared with his fellow condemned. 'Bet they sorry now they born with our faces, hey?'

Pavel, the scrawny pikeman, swallowed and blinked his one good eye. 'There but for the grace of Sigmar...'

Reiner nodded, squinting at the scene outside. The coach sat amidst Manfred's retinue of twenty knights in the square before the Middenheim gaol. A great crowd surrounded them, all looking towards the gallows in the centre - a gallows that could hang five at once. The crowd was in a cheerful mood. There was nothing like a hanging to break up the monotony of rubble clearing and rebuilding that had become the daily life of Middenheim, the site of the final battle of Archaon's aborted invasion. Sellers of pinwheels and sweetmeats wound through the crowds, while on the gallows, five frightened men with passing resemblances to Reiner and his companions were about to dance on air.

'Why do I feel guilty it isn't us up there?' asked Franka, a dark-haired archer who only Reiner knew was not the boy she pretended to be.

'Because yer a soft-hearted fool,' said Hals, a bald, jut-bearded pikeman. 'They're villains. They'll be guilty of something.'

'But not guilty of what they're to hang for,' Franka pressed. 'They're being hanged for looking like us.'

'They're being hanged because Manfred doesn't want his family name besmirched by his brother's infamy,' said Reiner. He affected Manfred's statesmanlike tones: 'It would not do for the citizenry to believe their betters could be corrupted as Albrecht was.' Reiner snorted. 'I'm sure if Albrecht were someone else's brother, Manfred wouldn't be so concerned with the morale of the citizenry.'

A drum roll began. The crowd fell silent. Reiner and his companions stared through the narrow louvres.

On the gallows, Middenheim's chief magistrate read the charges as Manfred and a host of dignitaries looked solemnly on. 'Reiner Hetzau, Hals Kiir, Pavel Voss, Giano Ostini, Franz Shoentag, you are charged with the foul murder of Baron Albrecht Valdenheim; of bewitching his troops by means of heathen sorcery; and causing them to attack his brother, Count Manfred Valdenheim, thereby bringing about the deaths of countless innocent men. For these and sundry other bestial crimes you are to be hanged by the neck until dead. May Sigmar have mercy on your souls.'

As the hangman pulled sacks over the condemned men's heads, Reiner looked at the man chosen to be his replacement, a debauched-looking villain with a pencil-thin moustache. Reiner wasn't flattered by the comparison.

Beside him, Franka sobbed. 'He's only a boy.'

Reiner looked at the lad who had been picked to die for her. It was doubtful he'd seen sixteen summers. He wouldn't see seventeen. His face was frozen in a mask of dumb incomprehension as the bag was tugged down over his head.

The drums stopped. The trap banged open and the five men dropped and jerked at the end of their ropes until the hangman's apprentices jumped up and hung from their knees to make certain of the deed. The crowd cheered.

'There's another five deaths on our consciences,' sighed Pavel.

'Speak for yourself,' said Hals. 'I put 'em square on Manfred. He's the one ordered 'em hung.'

But the reason he'd hung the impostors instead of us, thought Reiner, was that we were too damned clever for our own good. Manfred had gone to the trouble of all this subterfuge because he had been impressed by the guile Reiner and his companions had demonstrated in their defeat of Albrecht, and wanted to employ it for himself. As he'd told them, winning battles was not the only way the Empire stayed strong. There were less honourable deeds that had to be done to keep the citizenry safe, deeds no true-hearted knight could undertake, deeds only blackhearts could stomach. Reiner and his companions were those 'Blackhearts'.

Manfred was having them 'executed' so that they would be invisible men - perfect spies who did not exist in the eyes of the world. But because he also feared they might abandon their new duties at their earliest opportunity - a not unreasonable fear - the count had insured their cooperation by magical means.

'We are just as much hanged men as those poor devils,' said Reiner. 'For the cursed poison Manfred put into our blood is a noose around our necks - and he could drop the trap at any time.'

Outside they heard Strieger, the captain of Manfred's retinue, call 'Forward!' and the coach lurched into motion. As they rode out of the square Reiner took a last look at the five hooded bodies swaying in the breeze.

They were bound for Altdorf, where Manfred had a townhouse and where he advised the Emperor on matters of state. The road travelled south from Middenheim through the depths of the Drakwald Forest until it at last crossed the Reik and entered Altdorf. Reiner and the other Blackhearts saw none of it. Locked in the louvred coach, the world passed them by only as light, shadow and sound, the monotonous symphony of creaking wheels, clopping hooves and jingling harnesses lulling them into a state of torpidity. At least they were alone, with no one to overhear them, and this allowed them to plot their escape, however fruitlessly.

'Why not we kill the mage who know the poison spell?' suggested Giano.

'Manfred would get another, and have him unleash the poison,' said Reiner.

'What if we broke the mage's fingers until he removed the poison?' asked Hals.

'And if he said the spell that killed us instead of the spell that freed us, would you know the difference?' countered Reiner.

Pavel folded his arms, 'Alright then, captain. If yer so smart, what do we do? Let us poke holes in your ideas for once.'

'Well,' said Reiner, leaning back, 'perhaps we could pay a hedge witch to remove the poison.'

'If we could find one, and that would require a lot of gold,' said Franka. 'Something we are sorely lacking.'

Reiner nodded. 'True. But fortunes change. While helping Manfred we may find opportunity to help ourselves.'

'But a hedge witch could cheat us as well,' said Hals. 'He could spout any sort of mumbo jumbo and we wouldn't know if he'd removed the poison until we tried to run and fell dead on the spot.'

And on and on it went, an endless circle of argument as monotonous as the sound of the wheels rolling below them. Only occasionally would the monotony be broken when Reiner would look up to find Franka's eyes hot upon him.

She and he had first shared that look after they had killed Albrecht. Since then, each time they locked eyes, visions of Franka's lithe body stripped of her boyish trappings danced through Reiner's head. But even these pleasant dreams led to frustration, for none of the others knew Franka was a woman, so their desire could not be acted upon, and the cycle of lust stirred followed by lust denied became as grinding and dull as everything else.

The agony continued for three days, with the Blackhearts only let out of the coach when the company made camp. The coach had become thick with the smell of their unwashed bodies and their conversation had been reduced to ill-tempered grunts, when, late on the afternoon of the third day, the sudden booming of the coach wheels rolling over wood woke them from their stupor.

All five crowded to the slatted windows. The narrow view told them little more than they were crossing over a drawbridge into the courtyard of a castle. After a moment the coach came to a stop amid hails and responses from Manfred's retinue and the house guards.

One voice rose above the rest. 'Count Manfred! Well met, my lord.'

'And you, Groff,' came Manfred's voice. 'I see you survived the troubles.'

'Barely, my lord. Only barely.'

The coach door was unlocked and the guard in charge of the Blackhearts' transport, a sour veteran named Klaus, swung it open. 'Fall out, vermin,' he growled. 'And no nonsense. We're staying with quality tonight.'

'We'll be on our best behaviour,' said Reiner stepping out. 'Lay out my finest suit and ruff, won't you?'

'That's just the sort of thing I'm talking about,' snarled Klaus.

He lined them up at attention as Captain Strieger talked over their lodging with the head of Groff's house guard, and Manfred and Groff continued their conversation.

'We were hit very hard, my lord,' Groff was saying. He was a short, dark-haired man with a flabby, careworn face. 'We held supplies for Baron Hegel's cannon, and somehow the devils got wind of it. Tried for three days to force their way in before Boecher's garrison came up and chased them off, by the grace of Sigmar. But by then three-quarters of my men died, and as you can see...'

Groff gestured around at his castle, which was in terrible disrepair. Crews of peasants laboured to close up holes in the outer walls that one could have led a company of lancers through, but they were making little progress. The roof of the stables had burned away, and one of the keeps towers had collapsed, and now lay across the courtyard like the corpse of a dragon.

Groff nodded at the ruined tower. 'Lost my older son when that fell. He was fighting some horror with bones for skin. It called lighting from the sky and...' He swallowed.

Manfred put a hand on his shoulder. 'At least he died as Sigmar commands us to, fighting corruption.'

'Aye, he died well,' said Groff sadly. 'But we seem to have bested one evil only to have another spring up. Indeed, I am glad you have graced us with your presence, m'lord, for something's brewing in the forest that I would have you warn Altdorf about.'

Manfred looked up. 'Remnants of the Chaos horde?'

Groff shrugged. 'Something in there is carrying off the villagers and driving the woodsmen mad. I'd appreciate you asking Altdorf to send reinforcements. We're in no state to face any-'

'Right, you lot,' said Klaus at Reiner's side, drawing his attention away from the lords' conversation. 'We've got your lodgings sorted. This way.'

But before they could follow, there was a clatter of hooves at the gate and everyone turned to face the potential threat. It was a single horseman, a flush-faced youth in black and silver, with fevered excitement in his bright blue eyes.

'Father!' he cried as he reined his horse to a halt. 'Father, I saw a white stag in the woods just now. It was beautiful. You should hunt it with me.'

Manfred's knights relaxed. Their hands dropped from their hilts.

Groff looked embarrassed. 'Udo, pay your respects to Count Valdenheim. My lord, may I introduce my son, Udo.'

Udo dismounted and bowed distractedly to Manfred. 'My lord count. Forgive me. Welcome to our humble house.' He turned back to his father. 'So, may we have a hunt, father?'

As Klaus led the Blackhearts away, Reiner looked back to see Lord Groff bowing Count Manfred towards the main door and shooting angry looks at his son. Udo seemed oblivious. He followed his father into the keep with a far-away smile on his too-red lips. It looked like he had been eating cherries.

That evening, while Count Manfred and his knights dined with their host in the great hall, Reiner and his companions ate with Klaus and the coachman and Lord Groffs servants in the castles kitchens. It was a much less formal affair than the dinner upstairs, but undoubtedly warmer. Apparently, during the battle for Groff's castle, the horde's weird lightning had set fire to the great hall's roof, and half of it was open to the cold spring night.

The Blackhearts ate in silence at the long kitchen table, more interested in food than conversation, after their cramped, claustrophobic journey. The servants talked enough for all of them anyway.

'Hans the baker disappeared last night,' said a serving maid. 'Third this month.'

The groom snorted. 'Disappeared? Everyone knows where he's gone. Off to join them in the woods.'

The cook nodded. 'His woman said he woke up from a dead sleep sayin' he heard music, and just ran off.'

'Yestere'en when I was huntin' coney deep in the woods, I seen Laney, the carpenter's daughter what disappeared the other week,' said a young potboy. He giggled. 'She weren't wearin' no clothes.'

The head footman laughed. 'Youdreamed that, I'm thinking, laddie. As we all have.'

'Even you, husband?' asked the cook sharply.

The servants laughed as the head footman blushed. Some of the Blackhearts smiled.

Reiner was too busy trying to manoeuvre his left foot through the forest of booted legs under the table so that he could lay it beside Franka's. It would be highly embarrassing to lovingly stroke Hal's foot, or Pavel's. Very difficult to explain. At last he was rewarded with a surprised glance from Franka, and then a private smile and a return of pressure from her foot. His heart leapt, then he chuckled. He, who had spent so much of his youth in brothels where the girls stuck their tongues down your throat as a casual greeting, being aroused by such schoolboy flirtation. Ridiculous. Aye, but undeniable as well.

He glanced around the room, suddenly desperate to discover a way to be alone with Franka that night. They would be back in the coach on the morrow and he had no idea how they would be lodged in Altdorf. Tonight could be their only chance at intimacy - their only chance even to speak privately.

'Tain't funny, young Grig.' said a burly huntsman to a grinning young footman. 'Those fools are dangerous as well as mad. They'd eat you as soon as look at you. And the wood ain't the same neither. The trees are changing. Honest Drakwald oaks growing thorns and...' he made a face, 'fat purple plums. It ain't natural.'

'If there's a danger in the forest,' asked Hals, his garrulous nature surfacing, 'why are yer walls still all a jumble?'

'There's not many left to build 'em, friend.' said the footman. 'The war took so many. The village was nearly deserted even before this business in the woods begun. Now-'

'Even the bandits what used to steal our sheep are leaving.' said the cook. 'And there's those who won't work at Castle Groff because they think it an unlucky house. Hard to build walls when nobody will.'

'Less of that, foolish woman.' snapped the head footman. 'There's no need to be airing our dirty linen.'

'I don't say 'tis unlucky.' answered the cook. 'I'm still here, ain't I? It's only what they say in the village. What with the young master dying, and m'lord's lady taken away by fever, and master Udo taking on so queer...'

'There's nothing wrong with master Udo.' barked a long-faced fellow who hadn't spoken before.

Reiner looked up at him. He was a long-faced fellow in the garb of a manservant. A lock of prematurely grey hair hung over one eye.

The man chuckled, trying to smooth over his outburst. 'The boy's moon-eyed over a girl in the village is all.' He winked. 'She wears him out.'

'He don't go to the village, Stier.' said the groom. 'He goes to the woods.'

'Don't talk of what you don't know, boy.' Stier snapped. 'I'm his manservant. I think I should know what he does.' He stood, stiff. 'It will be time to serve the port. Come, Burgo.'

The footman wiped his lips and joined Stier as he unlocked the wine cabinet. They selected a few bottles, and went upstairs.

Reiner stared at the cabinet. They had left it open. He smiled.

'You lot are lucky they ain't got a full complement of servants,' said Klaus as he herded them into a below-stairs dormitory. 'You'd be sleeping in the stables else.' He turned on Reiner. 'And I'll be right outside the door, you, so no sneaking out windows, no sneaking in serving girls, no gambling with the grooms. We're on our best behaviour. Understand?'

Reiner looked suddenly contrite. 'Actually, sergeant, if I might have a word alone, I have a confession to make.'

Klaus sighed and beckoned him into the hall, then closed the door behind them. 'What is it now, Hetzau?'

Reiner slipped a bottle of wine from under his jacket. 'Well...'

'What's this?' asked Klaus suspiciously. 'You trying to bribe me?'

'Bribe you?' said Reiner, astonished. 'Sergeant, bribery was the furthest thing from my mind, I assure you.'

'Then...?'

'I, er, well, I nicked this to share with the lads, but your admonitions have shamed me, and I want you to return it to its rightful place. I don't want to embarrass Manfred with any bad behaviour.'

Klaus looked longingly at the bottle. 'Why, that's damned decent of ye, Hetzau. I'll put in a good word for you with Count Manfred for this.'

Reiner gave Klaus the bottle. 'I was just hoping you wouldn't report me.'

'No fear,' said Klaus, not taking his eyes off the bottle. 'No fear.'

Later, after the other Blackhearts had gone to sleep, Reiner slipped out of his cot and peeked into the hall. He was gratified to see Klaus sprawled in his chair snoring like a lumber mill, the wine bottle empty beside him. Reiner tiptoed to Franka's bed and shook her gently. Like a good soldier, Franka came awake without a murmur, merely opening her eyes and reaching for her dagger - which she didn't have, as Manfred had disarmed them.

Reiner put his finger to his lips and nodded towards the door. Franka looked around, frowning when she saw the other Blackhearts still asleep.

'What's this foolishness?' she mouthed.

He winked and motioned to the door again. Franka hesitated, then, with a shrug, swung out of bed, tugged on her boots and doublet, and joined him. He checked the hall again, then eased out. She followed and closed the door behind her. The latch clicked and they both turned to look at Klaus, ready to fight, but he did nothing but snore.

Reiner led Franka quietly through the dark hallways and twisting stairs of the silent castle until he found the musicians' gallery above the main hall. He pulled her in and sat her down on a long wooden bench. Sheet music was strewn underfoot, and moonlight from the huge hole in the great hall's roof shone through the gallery's lattice work, casting geometric patterns of light and shadow on Franka's sweet face. Reiner was overcome.

'Alone at last,' he breathed, leaning forward to encircle her in his arms.

Something stopped him. He looked down to find Franka's small hand pushing firmly on his sternum. 'You presume much, my lord.'

'Do I?' asked Reiner, genuinely surprised. 'Er, I thought, from your glances, from your coming away with me...'

'I came so that we might speak of... all this.'

'Speak? You want to waste these few precious moments we have speaking? This may be our only opportunity to...'

'My lord, please.' said Franka. 'It's true that I have discovered, er, feelings, for you that I did not expect, and I too desire to, er, be closer to you, but...'

'Then be with me now,' said Reiner reaching for her again. 'There's no telling how things will be when we get to Altdorf.'

Once again her hand held him away. 'Let me finish, my lord. I am not the sort of woman you are used to trafficking with. I am a miller's daughter, not a harlot. The thing you ask I do not give lightly.'

'You aren't exactly a proper Talabheim matron either,' countered Reiner. 'They don't join the army. And I doubt you and your Yarl ever crossed hands under the Hammer.'

Franka looked at the floor. 'We were married in our way. In Sigmar's eyes if not those of the law. And that is one of the reasons I beg you to wait a while.' She looked up at Reiner. 'I made a vow on Yarl's death, in honour of my love for him, that a year would pass before I took a husband, or another lover. I intend to honour that vow.'

Reiner fought to keep the frustration from his face. 'And a year hasn't yet passed?'

'There are five months left before I may love again.'

'Five months!' The words echoed through the great hall and Reiner and Franka froze, listening for a challenge. None came. Reiner lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. 'Five months? We could be dead in five months! Sigmar knows what madness Manfred has in store for us. He could send us to the Chaos Wastes, for all we know.'

'Please, m'lord. You are cruel to press me like this.'

Reiner sighed and sat back. 'Very well. I won't make a fool of myself. But could we not at least share a single kiss - as chaste as you like - as acknowledgement of our feelings toward one another?'

Franka chuckled. 'And one kiss won't lead to another?'

'Upon my honour, lady, I...'

Franka held up a hand. 'Don't. It would pain me to be disappointed with you, so I won't give you the opportunity to lie.' She opened her arms. 'Instead, I will grant you your kiss, and be ready to defend myself.'

'You wound me, lady.'

'You will recover, I'm sure.'

They closed each other in an embrace. Franka raised her face to Reiner's. He lowered his lips to hers. It was a chaste kiss, at first, but after a moment the tension went out of their arms and they pressed closer, melting into each other as if the boundaries between them were blurring. Franka moaned in her throat and her hands ran down Reiner's back. Her lips parted. Reiner gripped her hips and pulled her into him.

'No!' Franka was suddenly pushing back, turning her head away. Reiner thought he saw tears in her eyes.

'But why?' asked Reiner urgently. 'Your need is obviously as great as mine. Why do you deny yourself?' 'Because I have made a vow. I would dishonour Yarl's memory if I broke it.'

'Damn all vows,' growled Reiner, reaching for her again. 'You dishonour your true nature by denying-'

'Hist!' said Franka, turning. 'I heard a noise.'

'None of your tricks,' said Reiner, but now he heard it too: a rustling and bumping. He and Franka stepped to the lattice that screened the gallery from the great hall below and looked down.

Shuffling somnolently through the patches of moonlight that illuminated the big room, dressed only in his night shirt, was Groff's son Udo. His eyes were open, but he moved like a blind man pulled forward by some invisible rope.

'He sleepwalks,' murmured Reiner.

'We... er, we should follow him,' whispered Franka. 'And make sure he doesn't do himself a mischief.' She turned towards the door.

Reiner gave her a sly look. 'Are you concerned for his safety or your own?'

Franka smirked. 'You are very perceptive, sir.' And before he could pull her back, she evaded his arms and slipped into the corridor. Reiner sighed and followed.

As they started down the stairs to the hall, they saw Udo coming up. They backed around a corner until he topped the stairs and walked away down the corridor.

Franka started after him. Reiner cursed. He had felt her desire. It would only have been a matter of time before she succumbed. Now who knew when they could come to grips again. Five months? Unthinkable.

Udo turned a corner. When Reiner and Franka reached it, Franka peeked around, then pulled quickly back.

'What is it?' asked Reiner.

'A... a woman,' said Franka, frowning.

'What?' Reiner eased his head around the corner.

At the end of a short hallway, open doors revealed a scene from some old romantic painting - a couple embracing on an ivy-covered balcony, the lovers haloed softly in the moonlight - except in the painting, the man would undoubtedly have worn breeches.

The woman was shockingly beautiful, a voluptuous succubus in a plum velvet dress, with glossy black hair and a full-lipped, heart-shaped face. Udo was fully under her spell, trying to close with her like a lust-crazed schoolboy while she held him off.

'Later, beloved.' she was saying. 'We must speak of other things first.'

The scene felt familiar, but Reiner was so beglamoured by the woman's beauty he couldn't remember why. He only wanted to continue to look at her.

A hand pulled him roughly back. 'Do you want them to see you?' hissed Franka.

'I was, er, well...'

Franka rolled her eyes.

The woman's voice floated around the corner: a throaty contralto. 'No, beloved. First you must tell me what was said at dinner. Why is Valdenheim here? Does he mean to destroy us?'

Reiner and Franka froze at the mention of Manfred's name.

'Dinner be damned.' whined Udo. 'You don't understand how much I need you. I ache for you.'

'I know exactly how much you need me, silly boy. Now tell me or I shall leave.'

Udo yelped. 'No! You mustn't! I will tell! Though they said little enough. Father begged Valdenheim for help fighting the "horror" in the forest, but Valdenheim put him off, saying the Empire hasn't the resources.'

'So he hasn't come to hunt us down?'

'No. He's only passing through. Taking spies to be questioned in Altdorf, he said.'

Reiner and Franka heard the woman's relieved sigh. 'Very good. Now did you tell your father of the white stag as I asked? Has he agreed to the hunt?'

'I told him, but... but, beloved, is it really necessary to kill him? I know he's a fool, but he is my...'

'He will never consent to our union, my sweet. Or to the kingdom of pleasure we hope to found here. It is best...' She stopped suddenly, then murmured something Reiner and Franka couldn't hear.

'What?' said Udo loudly. 'Overheard?'

Reiner and Franka began backing hastily away, but before they could take three steps Udo was around the corner, swinging his fists wildly. 'Assassins!' he cried. 'Spies!'

'Hush, beloved!' hissed the woman, following him. 'You'll wake the house.'

Reiner and Franka dropped Udo with a few well-placed fists and knees, and he rolled away, groaning. The woman was another matter. She flashed towards them like an oiled shadow, a stiletto glinting in her hand. Reiner and Franka dropped their hands to their belts, forgetting again that they had no daggers.

The woman lunged at Reiner, her blade seeking his neck. He grabbed her wrist, trying to force it back. It was like trying to bend iron. He looked in her eyes. They shone with a weird light. His mind began to swim. Franka kicked the woman in the stomach. The beauty snarled and backhanded her, breaking eye-contact with Reiner. Franka flew back, head bouncing off the wall, and she slid to the floor.

Reiner caught the woman's arm as she stabbed again, this time averting his eyes, but even using his whole body to hold the stiletto away, still it inched towards his neck.

Sounds of doors opening echoed down the hall.

'Unhand her, villain!' cried Udo, staggering up. Franka grabbed his legs. He kicked her in the face.

'Idiot child!' hissed the beauty. 'Be silent!'

Udo pummelled Reiner. His blows were weak, but a lucky punch to the kidney made Reiner's knees buckle and the witch's stiletto jerked forward, gashing his collar bone.

With a look of triumph, she ripped her arm free of Reiner's grip and raised the stiletto, but feet were running towards them and they heard the scrape of unsheathing swords. The beauty looked up, cursing, then jumped back, eyes flashing angrily at Udo. 'Fool! I told you to be silent.' With a frustrated hiss, she ran to the balcony and leapt over. Reiner half expected her to fly away like some bird of prey, but she dropped out of sight and was gone.

Udo's fist caught Reiner on the cheekbone. 'Spoilsport! You've chased her away!'

Reiner ducked back and grabbed Udo's arms. Franka lurched up and caught Udo's collar from behind, pulling his shirt down over his shoulders to trap his arms. Reiner was about to head butt the youth when he saw a livid mark on Udo's exposed chest. A small puncture wound, purple-black with infection, rose directly over his heart. It looked like a third nipple.

'Ware,' muttered Franka, looking past Reiner. 'Manfred and our host.'

Reiner looked back. Manfred and Groff were hurrying towards them in robes and nightshirts, swords drawn, leading a handful of knights and house guards.

Udo shoved Reiner back and pulled his shirt closed. 'Father,' he cried. 'These men have assaulted me! Arrest them!'

'What is the meaning of this?' demanded Groff, bustling up. 'Manfred, aren't these your prisoners?'

'They are,' said Manfred. 'And I promise a reckoning when I discover who let them out.'

'My lords,' said Reiner quickly, 'there is greater evil afoot here than our petty truancy. Your house is infiltrated, Lord Groff. There is a witch on your grounds. She came to meet your son and just now leapt over the balcony. If you hurry-'

'What nonsense is this?' barked Groff. 'You try to draw attention from your crimes by accusing my son of witchcraft? Manfred, slay these insolent-'

'But 'tis the truth, my lord,' said Reiner. 'She has marked him. You have only to look at his...'

'Enough,' said Manfred. 'What are you doing out of quarters, and who let you out?'

'My lord,' said Franka, imploring. 'She is getting away.'

'Answer my question, curse you!'

Reiner ground his teeth. 'Here's your answer, y'damned fools.' And before anyone could stop him, he grabbed Udo's collar and ripped his nightshirt clean off.

Groff jumped forward, shouting and swinging his sword as Reiner dodged back. 'He assaults my son before my eyes! Stand, villain, I will...'

But Manfred was staring at Udo, who stood dumbly, with the unclean wound exposed for all to see. Groff followed his gaze and choked as he saw it.

'Groff,' Manfred said quietly. 'Lock up your son. He has been tainted and cannot be trusted.' He turned to one of his knights. 'Strieger, rouse the others and make ready. And lock the prisoners in the carriage. We ride within the hour.'

'You're not leaving?' exclaimed Lord Groff. 'Not now?'

'We must.' said Manfred. 'This was obviously an attempt to corrupt your house from the inside, but now that they know we know of their existence and their intent, they will try to stop us from warning Altdorf. We must be away before they surround us.'

'But they'll slaughter us!' cried Groff.

'Twenty knights would do nothing to change that outcome,' said Manfred, striding down the hall. 'We will pass Boecher's garrison on our way south. I will ask them to send reinforcements.'

Groff trotted after Manfred, mewling his distress, as Manfred's knights took Reiner and Franka in tow while Groff's guards did the same with Udo.

'But my lady doesn't wish to hurt anyone,' whined Udo. 'She wants us all to live only for pleasure.'

A half hour later, the Blackhearts were back in the cramped coach, bouncing and jolting uncomfortably as they raced down the rough track that led to the main Altdorf road. The thunder of Manfred's knights riding at full gallop drowned out all other sound and made conversation impossible.

A quarter of an hour out, there came a cry of 'Ware, bandits!' and the Blackhearts heard the knights draw steel.

Reiner and the others crowded to the slatted windows. On both sides of the road was a large, hastily-made camp. Bandits caught in the act of raising tents and starting fires were backing towards the woods as they gaped at Manfred's retinue. Others were snatching up weapons and preparing to fight. But when it became clear that the knights didn't intend to stop, some of the bandits waved their arms and called out after them.

'What they say?' asked Giano.

Pavel swallowed, nervous. 'They said, "Turn back".'

Only a few minutes later there was another cry from the knights, and the coach reined to a sudden, slewing stop. Reiner and his companions again pressed to the windows. It was impossible for them to see forward, but they heard anxious muttering from the knights, and on both sides of the coach the forest crowded too close to the road.

'It's blocked,' said a knight.

The forest was changed. Choking the tall pines and stout oaks were twisted vines, black of leaf, and heavy with purple, pendulous fruit, that gave off a cloying odour.

'The vines,' whispered Giano. 'They move.'

Reiner wanted to chide him for his foolish imaginings, but when he looked at the tendrils stretching toward the road he couldn't be sure the Tilean wasn't right.

'Dortman!' came Manfred's voice. 'See if a way can be cut.'

'Yes, my lord.'

Hooves trotted forward and the Blackhearts heard a thwacking of sword on vine. 'It is very thick, my lord. And I can see no end to-'

His words were cut off by a whistling thud, and a crash of armour hitting hard-packed dirt.

'Archers!' cried a knight, and suddenly the air was hissing with arrows. They thudded and rattled off the coach and the Blackhearts jerked back from the windows and dropped to the floor in a frightened pile.

'Fall back!' cried Manfred. 'Back to the castle!'

As the coach lurched around awkwardly, arrow heads splintered through the back wall. They glistened with green putrescence.

Hals hissed. 'Poison.'

Three knights died in the ambush, and two more were dying from cuts that barely bled, screaming in agony as poison burned through their veins. The coachman too had died. Klaus had manned the reins in their headlong flight to the castle.

Now Manfred conferred again with Groff in the courtyard while his knights stood by, and the Blackhearts waited with Klaus.

'How many men do you have?' asked Manfred.

'Sixteen knights, my lord,' said Groff. 'And forty foot, most with bows and spears, And I've pressed the staff into service, though they've to make do with pitchforks and fire-irons. Isn't much, I'm afraid.'

Reiner followed Manfred's gaze as the count surveyed the broken walls, where a collection of peasant conscripts, cooks and pot-boys made an inadequate defence. Groffs 'knights' - beardless youths pressed into armour after their older brothers had died in the recent conflict - guarded the widest, most easily breached gaps in the walls. They were spread very thin. Manfred looked grim. Reiner wanted to throw up.

'Pull half those boys off the wall,' Manfred said, 'and set them to tearing apart that scaffolding. Sharpen the ends of the poles and plant them at an angle before the gaps in the walls. Next, use the wood of the stables to make bonfires fifty yards from the walls in all directions so we may see the enemy before they're at our throats. Pour all the lamp oil you have into the moat and be ready to light it when they attempt to cross. It will not be enough. We will die, but at least we will take as many with us as...'

'My lord,' said Reiner. 'Might I make a suggestion?'

'You may not,' snapped Manfred.

'A suggestion that may allow us to win, my lord.'

Manfred turned on him, glaring. 'What is it?'

'The bandits, my lord. They are trained men, armed with bow and sword. If...'

'Absolutely not,' said Manfred. 'They are deserters. We cannot count on their loyalty, or their courage.'

'They are trapped just as we are, my lord. They have little choice but-'

'Silence! I have said no.' Manfred gestured at Klaus. 'Voorman, arm the prisoners and guard the north wall with them. You are their captain.'

Voorman saluted. Reiner snarled under his breath.

'Stiff-necked fool,' said Reiner, furious. 'His righteousness will get us killed.'

The Blackhearts sat on a pile of rubble in a gap in the north wall. The rubble spilled down into the moat, almost creating a bridge to the far side, but there were no blast marks to indicate that the wall had been brought down by artillery. Instead the rocks were cut with great gouges, as if from something impossibly strong had torn them down with its claws. The thought made Reiner shudder.

'Don't know why he cares,' said Hals. 'He don't have a problem using us, and I'll lay odds we're a nastier lot than them bandits.' 'Aye.' said Reiner. 'But he doesn't have the leash around their necks he has around ours.'

'We should just light out for Marienburg and leave him in the lurch.' said Pavel.

'The poison would reach us even there.' said Reiner. 'Even if we could escape the net of vines this sorceress has woven around us.'

'I no want to die.' said Giano. 'Not for foolishnesses.'

'Nor do I.' growled Hals.

'What are you lot jawing about?' said Klaus, from the tower of rubble above them where he stared vigilantly into the night.

'Nothing, sergeant.' said Reiner. 'Only plotting mutiny. That sort of thing.'

'None of your lip, Hetzau.'

Reiner looked below them where Groffs conscripts were wedging sharpened poles into the rubble. Beyond the moat, a wagon full of scrap lumber and brush was crossing the field as more conscripts built bonfires at regular intervals. He sighed. 'I think it's up to us to save ourselves, lads. What do you say we go find those bandits? It's a poor chance, but it's better than sitting here waiting for death.'

The others shot nervous glances up at Klaus, then leaned in.

'I'm in.' whispered Hals. 'If you've a way.'

'Won't Manfred unleash the poison?' asked Franka.

'Not until he knows we're gone,' said Reiner. 'And when the battle begins, he'll be too busy to check on us.'

'Or so you hope.' said Franka.

Reiner shrugged. 'Wemight die if we try. We willcertainly die if we don't.'

Pavel swallowed. 'I'm in.'

'And I.' said Franka, at last.

'And me too also as well.' said Giano. 'But what we do about...?' He jerked his chin toward Klaus. 'If he tell on us, then...' He drew his finger across his windpipe.

'We'll have to dispose of him.' said Reiner.

'Kill him?' asked Franka uneasily.

Reiner smirked. 'No need to go so far. Plenty of places in all this mess to hide him until we get back.' He looked up. 'Hoy, sergeant. I seem to have cut myself. I don't think I can participate in forthcoming conflict.' 'Hey?' cried Klaus. 'Not participate? Damned if you won't. Let me see this cut of yours.'

Hals grinned and balled his fists as Klaus climbed down to them.

'Stand where you are, dead men!'

The Blackhearts raised their arms as a score of spears and five times as many arrows pointed their way.

After binding and gagging Klaus and tucking him behind a fall of rubble, then crossing the moat with the help of a scaffolding ladder, they had stolen one of the wagons which had been building the bonfires, and rode towards the bandit camp. Now, having found it, Reiner was having second thoughts.

A huge, broad-chested villain with matted grey hair and a filthy beard stepped through the outlaws, a scrawny boy at his side who had the swaying gait and roving eye of an idiot.

'Brother,' said Reiner. 'We come...'

'Shut yer gob!' said the giant. He urged the boy forward. 'Sniff 'em out, Ludo. See if they've the taint.'

The boy wove to the Blackhearts' wagon like a dreamer and reached out limp hands. Reiner recoiled. Giano made the sign of Shallya, but they dared not move. The idiot sniffed and fondled them like a dog with hands, then with a whimpering sigh lay his head on Reiner's leg. At this the outlaws relaxed a little.

'Well,' said the giant. 'Yer not touched ones at any rate. What do y'want?'

'We come to ask a boon,' said Reiner, trying not flinch from the idiot's fawning. 'The touched ones, as you call them, mount an attack on Lord Groff's castle, which is grievously undermanned. He and Count Manfred need your help.'

The outlaws roared with laugher.

'Groff needs our help?' asked the leader. 'Groff, who hangs us for hunting the deer of the forest. And another jagger who's no doubt just as bad? Why should we help the likes of them?'

'Because the alternative is worse.'

'Yer mad. I'll dance a jig when Groff is dead.'

'Would you rather the touched ones ruled here in Groffs stead?' asked Reiner. 'Where would you be then?'

The outlaws were silent.

'Groff may hang you now and then,' Reiner continued, 'but at least that death comes quick. How many have you lost to the dark lady's seduction? Good men gone rotten, running naked in the woods, stealing your children to sacrifice to their daemon masters. Is that what you want?'

The outlaws muttered among themselves.

The giant crossed his arms. 'Nobody wants that. But we don't care to walk into a noose either. What's our guarantee that Groff, or this Manfred, won't turn around and hang us after we've saved their worthless hides?'

'I can offer you no guarantee,' said Reiner, 'but I have some sway with Manfred at least, and I will do what I can. Count Manfred is an honourable man. He may even reward you.'

Franka shot him a look at that. Reiner shrugged. He hoped it wasn't a lie, but he had to say something.

After a moment's conversation with his lieutenants, the big man turned back to Reiner. He nodded. 'Alright, silver-tongue, you've convinced us. Lead on.'

A red glow above the trees as the Blackhearts and the bandits approached the castle gave evidence that battle had already been joined. The noise came next. The clash of steel on steel, the cries of men and the screams of horses. When they reached the fields, Manfred's bonfires illuminated a grim scene. The massed cultists - one couldn't call them an army - attacked the ruined castle from all sides, undisciplined but bloodthirsty. They had bridged the moat with tree-trunks, and pressed Groff's meagre forces and Manfred's few knights fiercely at every gap in the walls.

Hals gaped when he saw them. 'The madmen! What're they about?'

Franka giggled.

Reiner grimaced. 'Some things are better covered by darkness.'

The cultists, despite the cold of the spring night, were naked, their only covering swirls of purple and red, which looked more like smeared fruit and blood than paint. But, though naked, they were armed. Men and women, young and old, wielded swords and spears and clubs and bows, and though many seemed unlearned in their use, there were so many of them, and they were so frenzied in their unholy ecstasy that even alone they might have carried the day.

Unfortunately they were not alone.

Leading them were troops of a different calibre altogether. Fighting at the wall were immense warriors in black and purple armour, while, further out, purple-clad bowmen cut down defenders with impossible accuracy. 'Northmens,' whispered Giano.

'We fought that sort at Brozny,' said Pavel, shuddering. 'Their swords had spikes in the hilts which pierced their own hands as they fought.'

Hals nodded. 'Pain was like drink to them. They loved it.'

'Well,' said Reiner. 'There ain't enough of them to take the castle without their followers. If we can drive them off we'll at least give Groff a fighting chance.'

Loche, the bandit leader, smiled. 'You leave that to me.'

Loche brought his men to the wood's edge and spread them out.

'You'll never hit them from here,' said Reiner, priming his handgun.

'No,' said the bandit. 'Groffs cut the woods back two bow shots for that very reason. We'll have to come up to the first hedgerow.'

He signalled his men forward and they and the Blackhearts advanced at a jog. Fortunately, the cultists, expecting no reinforcements, had posted no rear guard. The bandits reached the hedgerow with no alarm raised.

'Ready boys?' asked Loche.

The bandits put arrows to strings and flexed their bows. Franka did as well. Reiner and Giano raised their handguns. Hals and Pavel, pikemen with no skill with a bow, stood by with second guns, ready to reload while Reiner and Giano fired.

'Fire.'

With a thrum like a hundred guitars, the bandits loosed their shafts. Reiner's and Giano's guns cracked like snare drums. The arrows disappeared into the night, but reappeared as if by magic in the bare flesh of the cultists, who screamed and fell by the score.

It took the madmen a moment to understand their plight, and by then, more feathered shafts were cutting them down. A wave of panic overcame them and they ran in all directions, dropping their weapons. Reiner wondered that men so frenzied that they stormed a castle naked would lose courage under fire, but facing an enemy you can see is very different from invisible death speeding from the night.

'Don't waste arrows on the runners, boys,' said Loche. 'Let's circle and strike at another...'

But suddenly it was the bandits who were falling and screaming as feathered death whistled among them. Worse, even those only scratched were falling and writhing in agony, clawing at their wounds as if they were on fire.

Reiner looked at the arrows. They were the same that had riddled the coach on their flight from the ambush.

'The purple archers,' growled Loche, as his men pressed into the hedgerow. 'Concentrate yer fire, boys.'

Reiner sited along his gun barrel as the bandits nocked fresh arrows, but something behind the purple archers caught his eye. Below the north wall, a handful of Northmen, their black armour flashing red in the light of the bonfires, crossed the moat on a plank, and crept toward the postern gate. There were no troops to stop them. Most of the fighting was on the far side of the castle. If this little force could somehow break down the iron-bound door...

Reiner checked as the postern gate swung suddenly open. What treachery was this? Reiner squinted, trying to identify the shadowed figure who let the warriors into the castle. It was impossible. He cursed. The Blackhearts looked around.

Reiner pointed. 'Our efforts may be for naught. Someone lets the Northers in by the back gate.'

Loche looked up. 'Hey?' He peered forward.

Franka groaned. 'We'll have to stop them,' she said. 'Unless we wish to die in this cursed wood.'

Reiner glared at the girl. She was right, but the last thing he wanted to do was hunt through dark corridors after Northern marauders. They'd faced their like before, and nearly died of it. 'It'll take more than the five of us to bring those monsters down. Loche, we...' 'Not to worry.' said the big man. 'I ran from them once, and won my coward's brand for it. I'll not run again. Murgen, Aeloff, pick ten men and come with me.'

'Ten and five.' Hals swallowed, nervous. 'I hope it is enough.'

Reiner and Loche and their men entered the open postern gate and peered into the empty kitchen garden. Sounds of the battle echoed around the bulk of the keep, but it was quiet here.

'Where are they?' whispered Pavel.

'Shhh!' hissed Giano, cupping his ear.

They held their breath. From over the garden wall they heard a closing door.

The party started cautiously forward, but Franka slipped quickly ahead. 'I'll keep 'em in sight.' she said.

'Frank... Franz! Wait!' called Reiner, but the girl had already slipped into the garden.

'Come on.' growled Reiner. Damn the girl. He'd had enough of her foolish bravery.

As they entered the kitchen they saw Franka waving them towards the cellar stairs. They followed, and caught up with her at the door to the dungeon.

'What are they doing?' asked Reiner.

'Forcing a cell door.' replied Franka.

'Ah. Udo.'

The sound of steel biting into wood echoed down the narrow hall. Lantern light flickered from a door at the end. Franka started ahead. Reiner stopped her and went forward himself. She gave him a dirty look.

Reiner peered into a low-ceilinged guard room with stout oak doors on each wall. The Northmen had just broken the lock of one and were swinging it open. Udo stepped out and embraced the smallest warrior, who Reiner suddenly realized was the sorceress, dressed in black armour of barbaric splendour. Her six companions wore black and purple as well, and disturbingly, though they were as fiercely bearded as any Northman, were as rouged and painted as Marienberg streetwalkers. Udo's manservant, Stier, stood with them, holding a lantern. It was he, Reiner realized, who had let them in.

After receiving Udo's enthusiastic kiss, the sorceress stepped back. 'It is time, beloved, to seize your destiny. Are you ready?'

The boy nodded, unable to look away from her eyes. 'I am ready.'

The beauty removed a jewelled broach from her cloak. The pin was covered in black crust. 'Then take this and go to your father. A mere scratch and he will fall. When Manfred and his knights turn to assist him, prick as many of them as you can. We will be nearby, ready to protect you from any survivors.'

Udo hesitated, looking at the broach. 'Will it be... painful?'

'Worry not, my sweet,' said the witch, caressing his cheek. 'Your father will not suffer. In fact he will die of an excess of pleasure.'

She turned towards the door with Udo. Her men fell in around her. Reiner backed down the corridor to the waiting bandits.

'Bows out,' he hissed. 'Pin 'em inside the room.'

He and Giano shouldered their guns as the others raised bows. Two warriors filled the door, eclipsing the room behind them with their bulk.

'Fire!'

The warriors bellowed as the barrage battered them. Most of the arrows glanced off the ebony armour, but a few struck home, and Reiner and Giano's shots smashed through brains and bone. The Northmen fell. Behind them, Udo stared at an arrow sticking from his arm.

'I... I am... hit!'

The sorceress snatched him back into the room as one of her warriors leapt forward, sword drawn, and the last three backed up, protecting her.

'Fire!'

Reiner dropped his handgun and fired his pistol as the bandits' bowstrings thrummed in his ears. The massive warrior took the ball and a thicket of arrows full on. He kept coming, eyes blazing with ecstatic fury.

'Fire!'

But the Northman was on them before they could reload. Pavel and Hals shouldered Reiner and Giano aside and jammed their spears into the warrior's chest just as he reached their line.

The force of his charge drove them skidding back, but at last he stopped, blood erupting from his painted mouth as he fell.

'Die hard, don't they?' said Loche, swallowing.

'Aye,' agreed Hals.

The bandits stood with bows flexed, waiting for the rest of the warriors to spill from the room, but they didn't come.

'Don't advance,' said Reiner, reloading his pistol. 'We're in a better position here than fighting them in an open room.'

'No fear, Silvertongue,' said Loche. 'No fear.'

A noise returned their attention to the guard room. Reiner aimed his pistol, but no berserk warriors spewed forth. Instead, stepping into the hall was the sorceress, arms raised... and naked.

'Hold,' she said. 'I would parlay.'

Reiner and the Blackhearts and the bandits stared, open-mouthed, as she paced forward, her ripe curves swaying with every step. 'You wouldn't shoot an unarmed woman, would you?'

Reiner began forming a joke about the woman being better equipped than most armies, but it died in his throat as a delicious scent reached his nose. It wafted from her like musk - vanilla and jasmine - and drifted into his brain like fog.

He tried to tell the others to shoot her before she ensorcelled them all, but found himself unable to speak or raise his gun. The others seemed similarly affected.

The sorceress continued forward, smiling sweetly. 'In fact, you would kill any man who tried to harm me, wouldn't you? You would defend me to the death.'

She stopped in front of them. Reiner fought to free his mind, but her beauty was all-consuming. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He would do anything for her - die for her - if she would only take him into her arms. He heard bows and guns clatter to the floor as they fell from slack hands.

'You, boy,' she said, pointing at Franka. 'Your captain raised his gun to me. Will you protect me? Will you cut his throat?'

Franka nodded and wove towards him, drawing her dagger, glassy-eyed. Reiner raised his chin obligingly. It was true. He had tried to kill the sorceress. He deserved to die.

The woman smiled at Franka. 'Of course you will,' she said. 'No man can resist me.'

Franka stepped to Reiner, raising her dagger. The sorceress licked her lips, her eyes eager.

Suddenly, Franka spun and stabbed the dark beauty in the throat. She stared, open mouthed, more shocked at Franka's disobedience than at the dagger in her neck.

Franka smirked. 'Fortunately, I am no man.'

The woman fell, blood pouring down over her alabaster breasts. The spell was broken. Reiner shook his head. The others did the same, cursing and groaning.

'No! Beloved!'

Reiner looked up. Udo was racing at them, sword above his head. 'Murderers!' he cried. 'Savages!'

Behind him came the three remaining Northmen.

Reiner fired but missed. The bandits were still picking up their dropped weapons and got off only a few shots. Reiner drew frantically, and met Udo sword on sword as Pavel and Hals thrust their spears at the Northmen and the bandits rushed to back them up.

'Foul defiler!' shrieked Udo. 'To kill such a gentle-'

Reiner ran him through. The boy curled in on himself and fell. Reiner felt unexpectedly guilty. There was no glory in killing fools.

Around him, the Blackhearts and the bandits were attacking the Northmen with all their might, but the corridor was too narrow and too crowded to make a good swing, and the warriors' armour was too strong. The men could hardly dent it.

The warriors, on the other hand, swung mailed fists and axes held high on the haft. Reiner saw Pavel reeling back from a fist to the shoulder. An axe sheared off a bandit's arm at the elbow.

'Fall back!' shouted Reiner.

The Blackhearts and the bandits ran up the stairs, leaving their dead and wounded behind, the Northmen hot on their heels. A bandit went down, his skull crushed as he turned to flee.

The men emerged into a corridor and ran across it into the kitchen.

'The table!' cried Reiner. 'Block the door!'

But before they could drag the heavy oak board more than a step, the painted berserks were upon them again, and the bandits, in full rout now, ran out of the kitchen door. Reiner and the Blackhearts followed, inches ahead of the Northmen's blades.

As they burst into the yard, Reiner was momentarily afraid that they had run into more Northmen. The place was full of men in blood-caked armour. But then he recognized Manfred and Groff in the crowd. The knights raised a shout as the Northmen roared out of the kitchen, and a fierce battle erupted as the two sides slammed together.

Reiner was happy to observe from the sidelines, as were the bandits and the Blackhearts, who sucked in deep breaths and mopped at their wounds.

After it became certain that the knights would be victorious, Hals turned to Franka and gave her a curious look.

'What meant ye,' he asked, 'when y'said "fortunately you wasn't a man"?'

'What?' said Franka. Reiner swallowed nervously. The girl was turning bright red. 'I... er, I, well, I merely meant that I am but a boy.'

Hals scowled. 'When I was your age, laddie, I was twice as likely to fall for a woman's wiles.'

But before he could pursue the question further, the last of the Northmen fell and Manfred was striding their way, glaring.

'Hetzau, what is the meaning of this?'

'My lord,' said Reiner as he thought how to answer. 'We are most glad...'

'Never mind that, villain. I...'

Behind the count, Groff suddenly raised a cry. All turned. Servants were carrying Udo's body into the garden. Groff hurried forward and took the boy in his arms. 'Who has done this?' he cried. 'Who has slain my son?'

Manfred glared at Reiner. 'Hetzau?'

'My lord, you wound me.' said Reiner. He crossed to Groff and bowed. 'Lord Groff, the sorceress came to free your son so he might assassinate you, but he refused. They slew him for it.'

Groff looked at him with grateful eyes. 'He resisted then?'

'Yes, my lord. I only regret we were not able to stop them.'

Manfred gave Reiner a cool look. 'Regrettable indeed. And who are these gentlemen with you, who were yet not enough to save Lord Groff's son?'

Reiner swallowed. 'My lord, this is Captain Loche, leader of the noble woodsmen who helped you hold the castle this night.'

Loche touched his forelock to Manfred. 'M'lord.'

'A leader of bandits, you mean,' said Manfred, ignoring Loche. 'Who you recruited against my orders.'

'I thought your lordship might be pleased to find yourself alive at the outcome.'

'I am never pleased to be disobeyed.' He turned to the captain of his retinue. 'Strieger, arrest these outlaws, and all who have remained on the field.'

'What?' said Loche, surprised.

'But, my lord,' cried Reiner as the knights began to surround the surviving bandits. 'They have saved your life. You must admit that. You would be dead if not for their help.'

'That may be,' said Manfred, 'but certainly they aided us not out of any loyalty to the Empire, but only to save their own skins. They are still outlaws. They must still hang.'

'Hang? My lord!' Reiner was sweating now. 'My lord, it took all my gifts to convince these men to come to your aid. I promised them that you would be grateful - that you might even reward them for their service.'

Manfred raised an eyebrow. 'Ah. Then they have no one to blame for their fate but you, who promised things it was beyond your power to grant.' He motioned to Strieger. 'Take them. In these troubled times the laws of the Empire must be firmly upheld.'

As the knights took the bandits in tow, Loche shot a look at Reiner that pierced him to his soul. 'Y'dirty liar,' he rasped. 'I hope y'rot.' He spat on Reiner's boots. The knights jerked him forward and marched the bandits out of the garden.

Reiner hung his head, more ashamed than he'd ever been. He felt like a trained rat who had led his wild brethren into a trap. He wanted to tear Manfred's throat out, but - more shame - he was too much of a coward. He valued his life too much.

Franka put a hand on his arm. It didn't help.

The next morning the Blackhearts were locked back into their coach and Manfred and his knights continued south to Altdorf. As they rode from Groffs castle, Reiner and the others peered back through the slotted windows. Hanging from the battlements were scores of bandits and cultists, mixed together as if the hangmen had made no distinction between them - rotting fruit hanging from a stone tree.

Reiner's heart clenched when he saw Loche's massive body swaying among them. He closed his eyes, then sank back in his seat. 'And that, my lads,' he sighed, 'is fair warning of how Lord Valdenheim will deal with us when he no longer finds us useful.'

Pavel nodded. 'The swine.'

Giano shook his head. 'We dead soldiers, hey?'

'There must be a way out,' said Franka.

'But how?' asked Hals.

And so the endless conversation began again, all the way to Altdorf.

THE BROKEN LANCE

Nathan Long

ONE

An Untested Tool

The hammer brands were gone. The shameful scars that had been burnt into their flesh had been removed at last by a sorcery so painful it made the original branding a pleasant memory by comparison. The skin of their hands was clean, unblemished, as if the red iron had never touched it. But the blood beneath that skin, that was another story.

Reiner Hetzau and his convict companions; the pikemen Hals Kiir and Pavel Voss, the Tilean crossbowman Giano Ostini, and Franka Shoentag, the dark-haired archer who only Reiner knew was not the boy she pretended to be, had been given the deserters brand by Baron Albrecht Valdenheim as a way to force them to help him betray his brother, Count Manfred Valdenheim. He had promised them that when their service to him was done, he would remove the brands. But after they learned that he intended to betray them as well as his brother, they had helped Manfred instead, in hopes that he would make good on Albrecht's promise.

And he had. Manfred had been so impressed by the unorthodox ways in which Reiner and his companions had escaped their predicaments, by their ability to adapt and survive in any situation, and by their utter disregard for what respectable men might call right and wrong, that he had decided to make them agents of the Empire whether they wished it or not. The country, he said, had need of blackhearts who would not flinch at dishonourable duty. So he had ordered his personal sorcerer to remove the brands - which marked them deserters who could be shot on sight, and therefore useless as spies - and instead bound them to him with a much more subtle leash.

He had poisoned their blood.

It was a latent poison, which would lie dormant within them unless they attempted to leave Manfred's service or betray him. Then a spell could be read that would wake the poison and kill them wherever they might run, within the Empire or beyond.

There might be some, Reiner thought, as he folded his compact frame into the bay of a mullioned dormer window and looked out over the moonlit rooftops of Altdorf, who would be happy with the arrangement. Manfred had installed them in his townhouse and given them the run of the place, allowing them to read in the library and practise at swords in the garden, and had provided them with warm beds, fine food and obsequious servants - a soft life in these days of hardship and war, when many in the Empire were maimed and starving and hadn't a roof over their heads to call their own - but Reiner hated it.

The townhouse might be the epitome of comfort, but it was still a prison. Manfred wanted their existence kept a secret, so they were not allowed beyond its walls. It tortured Reiner that Altdorf was just outside and he couldn't reach it. The brothels and gambling halls, the dog-pits and theatres he called home, were within walking distance - on some nights he could hear singing and laughing and perhaps even the rattle of dice. But he couldn't get to them. They might as well have been in Lustria. It was agony.

Not that the others didn't suffer as well. When Manfred had recruited them, he had promised the Blackhearts action - secret missions, assassinations, kidnappings - but for the last two months they had done nothing but sit, waiting for orders that never came, and it was driving them stir crazy. It wasn't that Reiner relished the thought of risking life and limb for the Empire that had falsely branded him sorcerer and traitor, but endlessly waiting to be sent to one's death was a misery all its own - an edgy, endless boredom which set him and his companions at each other's throats. Casual conversations suddenly erupted into shouting matches, or broke off into sullen silences. Though he liked them all, Reiner's companions' tics and mannerisms, which he had once found amusing, now grated like brick on flesh: Hals's incessant barbs and jokes, Pavel's little clearing of the throat before he asked a question, Giano's moaning about how everything was better in Tilea, Franka's...

Well, it was Franka that was the real problem, wasn't it? Reiner had made a terrible mistake falling for the girl. He hadn't thought it would happen. After he had gotten over the shock of learning her true sex he hadn't given her a second thought. She wasn't really his sort - a wiry hoyden with hair shorter than his own - nothing like the laughing, lusty harlots he usually favoured, with painted lips and voluptuous hips. But that day on the crag above Nordbergbruche, when together they had killed Albrecht, they had exchanged a look that had awakened a flame of desire in him he knew could only be quenched in her arms. The trouble was, though she had admitted to him that she shared his passion, had in fact kissed him once with a fervour that had nearly carried them both away, she refused to consummate their lust. She...

The latch in the door behind him clicked. Reiner turned from the window as Franka entered the room, candle in hand. He held his breath. She closed the door, set the candle on a dresser, and began unlacing her jerkin.

'Slowly, beloved,' said Reiner, twirling his moustaches like a stage villain. "Tis too nice a job to rush.'

Franka gasped, covering herself, then let out an annoyed breath when she realized who was sitting in the window seat. 'Reiner. How did you get in here?'

'Klaus was asleep again, as usual.'

'And so should you be.'

Reiner grinned. 'An excellent idea. Turn down the covers and let's to bed.'

Franka sighed and sat on a divan. 'Must you continue to persist?'

'Must you continue to resist?'

'The year of my vow is not yet up. I still mourn for Yarl.'

Reiner groaned. 'Is it still two months?'

'Three.' 'Three!'

'Only two days have passed since you last asked.'

'It feels like two years.' He stood and began to pace. 'Beloved, we could be dead in three months! Sigmar knows what madness Manfred has in store for us. He could send us to Ulthuan for all we know.'

'A man of honour would not press me on this,' said Franka, tight-lipped.

'Have I ever said I was a man of honour?' He sat on the divan beside her. 'Franka. There is a reason for a soldier's loose morals. He knows every day that he might die tomorrow, and therefore lives each night as if it were his last. You are a soldier now. You know this. You must seize what stands before you before Morr snatches it from your grasp forever.'

Franka rolled her eyes as he opened his arms in invitation. 'You make a compelling argument, captain, but unfortunately I have honour - or at least stubborn pride - enough for the both of us, and so...'

Reiner dropped his arms. 'Very well, very well. I will retire. But could you not at least grant me a kiss to dream on?'

Franka chuckled. 'And have you take advantage as always?'

'On my honour, beloved...'

'Did you not just say you had no honour?'

'I... er, yes, I suppose I did.' Reiner sighed and stood. 'Once again you defeat me, lady. But one day...' He shrugged and stepped to the door.

'Reiner.'

Reiner turned. Franka was beside him. She stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Now go to bed.'

'Torturer,' he said, then turned the latch and left.

Unsurprisingly, Reiner found it difficult to sleep, which was unfortunate, for he was woken much too early the next morning. He had been dreaming of Franka unlacing her jerkin and pulling off her shirt, and it was a rude shock to open his eyes to the ugly face of dear old Klaus, the guard in charge of watching over him and his companions, glaring down at him.

'Get yer boots on, y'lazy slug,' Klaus barked, kicking Reiner's four-poster.

'Piss off.' Reiner pulled the covers over his head. 'I was with a lady.'

'None of your sauce!' Klaus kicked the bed again. 'His lordship requests yer presence in the yard, on the double.'

Reiner poked an eye above the blanket. 'Manfred's back?' He yawned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 'Thought he'd forgotten about us.'

'Manfred never forgets nothing,' said Klaus. 'You'd do well to remember it.'

'What happenings?' asked Giano as the Blackhearts shuffled sleepily down the curving mahogany staircase behind Reiner and Klaus to the townhouse's marble-floored entryway. The curly haired Tilean was still doing up his breeches.

'No idea,' said Reiner. Klaus motioned them through a service door and they entered the kitchen.

'It's something different, though,' said Pavel. He stole a pastry from a tray and stuffed it in his mouth. 'Makes a change,' he said, spitting crumbs.

Reiner chuckled at the sight. The pikeman was as ugly as a wet rat, and utterly unconcerned about it: long necked and scrawny, with a patch over his lost left eye and a scarred mouth that was missing three front teeth.

'Probably just sword drills again,' said Hals, Pavel's bald, burly, red bearded brother-in-arms. 'Or worse, horsemanship.'

Klaus opened the kitchen door and they stepped into the gravelled stable yard. 'Maybe not,' said Franka. 'Look at that.'

Reiner and the others looked ahead. A coach with louvred windows sat just inside the back gate. Two guards stood before it. The Blackhearts groaned.

'Not the coach again,' said Hals.

'We'd all kill each other before we got where we were going,' agreed Pavel.

Klaus stopped in the centre of the yard and called them to attention. They straightened, but only half-heartedly. Months of enforced familiarity with him had bred contempt for his authority. They waited. The morning fog hid the world beyond the stone walls in a pearly embrace, and though it was summer, the sun was not yet high enough in the sky to chase the night's chillaway. Reiner shivered and wished he had thought to don his cloak. His stomach growled. He had become used to a regular breakfast.

After a quarter of an hour, the gate to the garden opened and Count Manfred stepped into the yard. Tall and broad, with silver in his hair and beard, the count looked the part of a kind, wise king out of legend, but Reiner knew better. Manfred might be wise, but he was hard as flint. A bright-eyed young corporal in the uniform of a lancer followed in his wake.

Manfred nodded curtly to the Blackhearts. 'Klaus, open the coach, then retire to the gate with Moegen and Valch.'

'M'lord?' said Klaus. 'I wouldn't trust these villains near yer lordship...'

'Obey my orders, Klaus. I am perfectly safe.'

Klaus saluted reluctantly and crossed to the coach. He took a key from one of the guards and unlocked it. Reiner expected Manfred to order them into it, but when Klaus opened the door, four men ducked out and stepped down to the gravel. The Blackhearts exchanged uneasy glances. The men were filthy, unshaved, and half starved, and wore the remains of military uniforms.

'Fall in,' said Manfred.

The four men shambled over and lined up next to the Blackhearts, squaring their shoulders reflexively.

Manfred faced the Blackhearts. 'We have work for you at last,' he said, then sighed. 'There have actually been many jobs on which we would have liked to have used you. There is much turmoil in Altdorf at the moment. Much finger pointing over our losses in the recent conflict, and much clamouring for changes at the top - particularly among the younger barons. It would have been nice to have used you to "calm" some of the more strident voices, but we were hesitant to try an untested tool so close to home where it might fly back into our faces.' He clasped his hands behind his back. 'Now a perfect test has presented itself. Of utmost importance to the well-being of the Empire, but far enough away that you will not embarrass us if you fail.'

'Your confidence in us is inspiring, m'lord,' said Reiner wryly.

'Be thankful I have any at all after your insubordination at Groffholt.'

'Did you not recruit us particularly for our penchant for insubordination, m'lord?' asked Reiner.

'Enough.' said Manfred, and though he didn't raise his voice, Reiner did not feel inclined to push his insolence any further.

'Listen well.' said Manfred. 'For I will not repeat these orders and they will not be written down.' He cleared his throat and looked them all in the eye, then began. 'Deep in the Black Mountains is an Empire fort which guards an isolated pass and protects a nearby gold mine. The mine helps the Empire pay for reconstruction and defence in these troubled times, but in the last few months its output has slowed to a trickle, and we have not received from the fort satisfactory answers to our queries. I sent a courier two months ago. He has not returned. I do not know what has befallen him.' Manfred frowned. 'All that is certain is that the fort is still in Imperial hands, for an agent of mine saw recruitment notices for the fort's regiment going up in Averheim not a week ago.' He looked at Reiner. 'This recruitment is your opportunity. You are to sign on, install yourselves in the fort, discover what is occurring, and if it is treasonous, stop it.'

'You have reason to suspect treason?'

'It is possible.' said Manfred. 'The fort's commander, General Broder Gutzmann, is rumoured to be angry that he was kept in the south when the fate of the Empire was being decided in the north. He may have become angry enough to do something rash.'

'And if he has?'

Manfred hesitated, then spoke. 'If there is a traitor in the fort, he must be "removed", no matter who he is. But know that Gutzmann is an excellent general and loved by his men. They are fiercely loyal. If it is he you must remove, it should look like an accident. If his men discovered that he was the victim of foul play, they would revolt, and the Empire is stretched too thin now to lose an entire garrison.'

'Pardon, m'lord.' said Reiner, 'but I don't understand. If Gutzmann is such an excellent general, why not bring him north and let him hunt Kurgan like he wants? Would that not stop his grumbling?'

Manfred sighed. 'I cannot. There are some in Altdorf who feel that Gutzmann is too good a general, that if he won great victories in the north, he might begin to have ambitions - that, er, he might seek to be more than a leader of soldiers.'

'Ah,' said Reiner. 'So he was kept in the south on purpose. He has reason to be angry.'

Manfred scowled. 'No "reason" can excuse stealing from the Emperor. If he is guilty, he must be stopped. Do you all understand your orders?'

The Blackhearts nodded, as did the newcomers.

Manfred glanced at the new men, then back to the Blackhearts. 'This will be a difficult mission, and it was felt you should be returned to full strength. Therefore we have found you some new recruits. These four men will be under your command, Hetzau. Corporal Karelinus Eberhart,' he indicated the young junior officer who stood to his left, 'will also obey your orders, but is answerable only to me. He is my eyes and ears, and will report to me at the end of this venture on...' He paused, then smirked. 'On how true and useful a tool you and your Blackhearts are. His report will determine whether we will be able to employ you in the future, and consequently, whether we will suffer you to live henceforth. Do you understand me?'

Reiner nodded. 'Yes my lord. Perfectly.' He shot a look at Corporal Eberhart, who was gaping at Manfred with wide blue eyes. Reiner chuckled. The poor lad didn't expect Manfred to be so open about his role in the enterprise. He was unused to the count's bluntness. Reiner was not. Manfred was not accustomed to hiding his cannon behind roses.

'Are these men subject to the same constraints as we, m'lord?' asked Reiner, indicating the four new recruits. 'Have they been...'

'Yes, captain,' said Manfred. 'They have agreed to the same conditions. Their blood bears the same taint as your own.' He laughed. 'They are now your brothers. Blackhearts one and all!'

TWO

We Are All Villains Here

Not two hours after Manfred gave them their orders, the Blackhearts left Altdorf for Averheim, largest city of the south-eastern province of Averland, and the closest to the Black Mountains and the pass General Gutzmann's fort guarded. The count, with his customary thoroughness, had arranged everything: fresh clothes and weapons for the new men, horses for those who rode well, a cart for the others. The cart also carried the company's equipment: weapons, armour, cooking kit, tents, blankets and so on. It looked to be a much more comfortable journey than when last they had been recruited into skulduggery, thought Reiner. Then they had crept into enemy territory during a freezing Ostland spring, and packed only what they could carry on their backs. Now they travelled openly through the heart of the Empire, with inns and towns at every stage. Perhaps this was a good omen. Perhaps this foretold an easy duty. This job certainly didn't seem as difficult as the last.

Reiner breathed deep as they took the south road out of Altdorf and began riding though the farms and freeholds that surrounded the city. What a treat to be out of doors again. Just the passing of the scenery was thrilling to him. The simple act of moving was such a wonderful feeling that for a moment he almost felt free.

So enthralled was he by these novel sensations that it wasn't until Altdorf's walls were fading into the morning haze behind them and the dark line of the Drakwald was rising ahead that he noticed that no one had yet spoken. An awkward silence hung about the party, the old Blackhearts and new eyeing each other uneasily. Reiner sighed. This wouldn't do.

'Now, sir,' he said, turning to the new man who rode behind him to his right, a slight fellow with a mushroom cap of mousey brown hair above a sad, sharp face. 'How did you come to be in this sorry fix?'

'Hey?' said the man, startled. 'Why pick on me? What do y'need to know for?'

Reiner chuckled with as much good humour as he could muster. 'Well sir, If I'm to lead you, it would seem advisable to know something of you. And don't worry that you will shock us. We are all villains here, aren't we, lads?' He turned to each of his old companions in turn. 'Pavel and Hals killed their captain when he proved incompetent.'

'We didn't, though,' said Pavel.

'Kurgan killed him,' said Hals.

They both laughed darkly.

'Franz murdered his tent mate for making unwanted advances.'

Franka blushed.

'Giano sold guns to the Kossars.'

'Who know is crime?' asked Giano, turning up his palms.

'And I,' said Reiner, putting his hand to his chest, 'am charged with sorcery and the murder of a clergywoman.' He grinned at the man, who stared around at them all, blinking. 'So you see, you're in good company.'

The man shrugged, suddenly shy. 'I... My name is Abel Halstieg. I am, er, I was, quartermaster for Lord Belhem's Cannon. They claim I bought poor quality powder and pocketed the savings, thereby causing the destruction of the unit.'

'How so?' asked Reiner.

'Er, the guns misfired and our position was overrun. But it rained that day. The powder may have become damp.'

'And since it was cheap powder in the first place...' drawled Pavel from the cart.

'It wasn't cheap powder!' insisted the quartermaster.

'Of course it wasn't,' said Reiner, soothing. 'So, can you aim and fire a field piece then?'

Abel hesitated. 'With help. If pressed. But my talents fall more on the supply side.'

'So it appears,' said Reiner, and turned away before Abel could contest the inference. 'And you, sir?' he asked the other mounted newcomer, a sturdy, stone-faced veteran with long, dark hair pulled back into a braided queue.

The man looked briefly at Reiner, then returned his gaze to his horse's neck, where it had been since the journey's beginning. His brows were so heavy that his eyes remained in shadow despite the brightness of the day. 'I took money to kill a man.'

The man's brevity took Reiner off guard. He laughed. 'What? No protestation of innocence? No extenuating circumstances?'

'I am guilty.'

Reiner blinked. 'Ah. Er. Well. Will you tell me your name, then? And in what capacity you served the Empire?'

There was a long pause, but at last the man spoke. 'Jergen Rohmner. Master-at-arms.'

'An instructor of the sword?' asked Reiner. 'You must be quite the blade.'

Rohmner did not reply.

Reiner shrugged. 'Well, welcome to our company, captain.' He turned to the cart, where the other two new recruits sat amongst the gear. 'And you, laddie,' he said, addressing a smiling, gangly archer with a thatch of red hair and jug ears that stuck from his head like flags. 'How come you here?'

The boy laughed. 'Heh. I killed a man too. Nobody had to pay me for it, though.' He shied a pebble at a passing fence post, startling a pair of crows. 'Me and my mates was posted in some muddy Kiss-leff berg, drinkin' their cow piss liquor, when this fool of an Ostland pike bumps me elbow and spills me drink. So I...'

Reiner rolled his eyes. It was a very old story. 'So you and your mates hit him a little too hard and he had the bad manners to die.'

'Naw, naw,' said the boy, grinning. 'Better'n that. I followed him back to his billet, trussed him up in his bedroll, and set his tent afire.' He laughed, delighted. 'Squealed like a skinned hog afore he died.'

There was silence as the rest of the company stared at the youth, who carried on skimming pebbles into the wheat field on their left, oblivious.

At last Reiner cleared his throat. 'Er, what's your name, lad?'

'Dag,' said the boy. 'Dag Mueller.'

'Well, Dag. Thank you for that illuminating story.'

'Aye, captain. My pleasure.'

Reiner shivered, then turned to the last of the new recruits, a round bellied old veteran with apple cheeks and extravagant moustaches, gone a little grey. 'How about you, sir. What's your tale of woe?'

'Not a patch on the last, I assure you, captain,' said the man with a sidelong glance at Dag. 'My name is Helgertkrug Steingesser, but ye may call me Gert. The brass named me deserter and instigator, and the charge fits well enough, I suppose.' He sighed, but his eyes twinkled. 'Y'see, there was a girl, a big, fine girl. Lived on a farm near where I was billeted in Kislev with the Talabheim City crossbowmen. Her man had died in the war. In fact, all the men of her village had died. It was a village of women. Lonely women. Big, fine women. And it came to me, y'see. The land was fertile, the country beautiful. A man could do worse, I said to myself, than settle down here and raise big, fine children.' He leaned back against their baggage, chuckling. 'And maybe I said it to more than myself, for when I decided to go, a score of my lads came with me, to fill in, so to speak, for the women's dead husbands. Unfortunately, the Empire didn't feel it were done with us. There were a battle the next day and we was missed. When the brass caught us up they accused us of running 'cause we was afraid. I take exception to that. We wasn't afraid. We was... er, eager for companionship.'

The Blackhearts laughed, partly because it was a funny story, but mostly out of relief that it wasn't another horrible one.

Reiner grinned. 'Welcome, Gert. And if y'find another village of lonely women on our way, don't keep it to yourself, hey?'

Franka shot Reiner a sharp look, but the rest laughed. Reiner turned at last to the fresh-faced blond corporal, Karelinus, who rode at his side. 'And you, corporal, how did you come to be minder for such a pack of reprobates? In Manfred's black book, are you?'

'Eh?' said Karel. He had been staring at Dag, and seemed to find it hard to turn away. 'Er. Actually, no. I, er, I volunteered.'

Reiner almost choked. 'You...?'

'Oh yes,' he said, turning on his horse to face the others. 'You see, I am betrothed, or at least I would be betrothed if it were possible, to Count Manfred's daughter, Rowena. But a count's daughter can't very well marry a lowly lance corporal. I must be a knight at least, mustn't I? Unfortunately, my father has had some reverses lately, and wasn't able to pay the tithe to win me a place in one of the knightly orders.' He grimaced. 'I'm afraid I made a bit of an ass of myself when I found I couldn't get in, cursing my fate and vowing to Rowena that I would win my colours on the battlefield or die trying.' He brightened. 'But then m'lord Manfred very helpfully suggested that I take this assignment. He promised me there would be plenty of opportunities to achieve my vow before we returned. That it was just the thing. A real gentleman, Count Manfred. Not every father would do as much for his daughter's betrothed.'

Reiner coughed convulsively, and he could hear Pavel and Hals mumphing with suppressed laughter. Even Franka, who knew well how to hide her thoughts, was having difficulty suppressing a smile.

'I beg your pardon, corporal,' said Reiner when he had recovered. 'A touch of congestion. Very decent indeed of the count to give you such a plum assignment. He must think very highly of you. Very highly indeed.'

They rode on through the rolling farmland, and the ice having been broken, the conversation began to flow at last. Hals, Pavel and Giano traded war stories with the crossbowman Gert, while Reiner and Franka listened with bemused wonder as young Karel prattled on about his close relationship with Count Manfred and how nice everyone was in Altdorf. Abel, the artillery quartermaster, hung at the edge of their conversation, trying to turn it to questions about their arrangement with Manfred and what was expected of them. The swordsman Jergen rode on in silence, his eyes never lifting from his saddle bow, while on the cart, Dag, the lanky archer, out of pebbles, lay on his back and watched the clouds sail by as if he hadn't a care in the world.

* * *

They camped in the woods that night, for though there were inns aplenty along the way, Manfred had forbidden them to sleep under a roof on their journey. He wanted them to appear hungry dogs of war when they arrived in Averheim, desperate to sign on to service as far from the centre of the Empire as possible, and hungry dogs hadn't the gelt to buy a cot by the fire.

The next day passed much as the first, riding at a quick but not punishing pace through league after league of thick oak forest, the gloom of which pressed in on them and stifled their conversation. They passed fewer travellers here; a heavily guarded train of merchants travelling together for protection, a company of knights trotting by double file, pennons flying from their lance tips, a group of Sigmarite fanatics on pilgrimage from Nuln to Altdorf and travelling every inch of the journey on their bare knees. It seemed to Reiner proof of Sigmar's grace that the mad holy men hadn't yet been set upon by the horrors that lurked in the trees.

On the third day, just as the sun was beginning to burn away the morning haze, they at last came out of the Drakwald and into the Reikland, the heartland of the Empire, an endless plain cross-hatched with fields and orchards. After so long in the forest, it was a beautiful verdant sight. But the initial impression of fertile plenty was proved an illusion when they got closer. The fields were green, yes, but as often green with weeds as with crops. The Empire had had a great army to feed these last few years, and fields that in happier times had been allowed to lie fallow to replenish the soil had been exhausted as the farmers tried to meet the demand for fodder. The crops that did grow were meagre and stunted, and the pigsties and cow pastures the Blackhearts passed were nearly unpopulated.

It was all so fragile, thought Reiner. And so precious. For if this died, if the fields withered and the cattle became skin and bones, then the Empire died. The knightly orders might prate about blood and steel and the Drakwald being the hard oaken soul of the Empire, but the knights ate beef and bread and cabbage, not acorns and squirrels, and no one ever fought to defend a forest as fiercely as a farmer defended his farm.

Late that afternoon they travelled along a stretch of road with pear orchards on both sides. The pears weren't quite ripe, it being only the middle of summer, but in the rays of the westering sun their rosy blush was enticing. Reiner felt his stomach growling.

On the cart, Dag sat up, sniffing. 'Pears.' he said. And without another word, he hopped down and started trotting towards the trees.

Reiner grunted, annoyed. 'We've plenty of fodder.' he said. 'No need to forage.'

'I only want one or two.' Dag said, and ducked through the first rank of trees.

Reiner sighed.

'Not much on obeyin' orders.' said Hals.

'Well, he's mad, ain't he?' said Pavel.

Gert harrumphed. 'T'ain't no excuse.'

A few moments later barking erupted from the orchard. The company looked up and saw Dag laughing and running through the trees, arms full of pears, with a big farm dog at his heels. He stumbled over a root and the dog caught him, sinking its teeth into his calf.

Dag fell, crying out and dropping the pears. He rolled onto his back, and before Reiner knew what he meant to do, drew his dagger and jabbed the dog in the belly. It squealed and recoiled, but Dag tackled it and held it down, stabbing it repeatedly in the eyes and neck.

'Sigmar!' choked Karel. 'What's he doing?'

'Mueller!' bellowed Reiner. 'Stop!'

The others cried out too, but before they could dismount, their cries were echoed.

'Hie, ye brigand!' came a voice. 'What do ye to my dog?'

Six farm hands ran out of the trees, armed with pitchforks and clubs, and surrounded the archer. There was a boy with them, who stared blankly at the dead dog. A farmhand clubbed Dag across the back.

Reiner cursed. 'Come on, then.' He dismounted and jogged into the orchard with the others following. 'Hoy!' he shouted.

The combatants didn't heed him. Dag was up, a mad grin splitting his face as he squared up to the farmhand who had struck him. 'And what was that for, yokel?' He held his bloody dagger in a loose grip.

'For? Why, ye killed my dog, ye madman!'

'Then yer in need of killin' as well, for letting him bite.' And before the farmhand could answer, Dag flicked blood at his eyes. The man flinched, and Dag lunged, slashing.

'Stand down, Mueller!' screamed Reiner. 'Stand down!'

The farmhand reeled back, clutching a bleeding shoulder, but as Dag followed, the other farmhands rushed in, swinging their bludgeons. Reiner sprinted forward. Damn the boy! There would be murder done, and Manfred's job botched before it began.

There was a scrape of steel beside him and Jergen blurred past. He hauled Dag out of the ring of farmhands with one hand and swung his sword in a circle with the other. Pitchfork tines and the tips of staves dropped to the grass around him, lopped off like dandelion heads. He ended on guard, Dag hurled behind him, and the point of his longsword touched the wounded farmhand's neck. The man froze, as did his companions, staring at their truncated weapons.

Reiner and the others stared as well, stunned by Jergen's speed, strength and terrifying precision.

'Well... well done, Rohmner,' said Reiner, swallowing. 'Now stand down, all. We'll have no more dramatics if you please. I...'

'Who put his hands on me?' cried Dag, bouncing up. 'No man puts his hands on me and lives!'

'Enough, Mueller!' shouted Reiner, turning on him. 'Shut your fool mouth.'

Dag glared at Reiner, eyes blazing, but Reiner, more by instinct than intent, glared right back, forcing himself not to blink or look away. Dag's anger seemed to surge. He growled in his throat and raised his dagger, but after a long moment, he shrugged and laughed.

'Sorry, captain,' he said. 'Ain't mad at you.' He sneered at the farmhands over his shoulder. "Tis these gape-gobbed yokels who can't keep their curs to heel that...'

'Ye were stealin' our pears, ye thievin' murderer!' cried the farmhand Dag had wounded - though he didn't move, for Jergen's blade was still at his throat. 'T'ain't bad enough we've to send all our crops north to feed Karl-Franz's army - for starvation prices, too - now ye uniformed bandits come south to snatch the food from our mouths?' 'And kill our dogs.' said another.

'Snatch the food from yer mouth?' retorted Hals. 'Look at all the plenty around ye. Livin' in luxury while we been freezing our fundaments off in a Kislev snow bank, protecting yer worthless hide. There's gratitude for you.'

Reiner's men, who had up to this point sided with the farmhands against Dag, were beginning to range behind Hals.

'And why didn't you pick up a pike?' asked Pavel.

'Aye,' said Abel from behind him. 'Cowards.'

'Because someone had to stay behind and feed ye, y'ass!'

The two sides began to edge forward, drawing daggers and hefting clubs.

'Hold, curse it! Hold! All of you!' cried Reiner. 'Let us not all go mad. There's been enough blood shed already. Adding to it won't solve anything.'

'But he killed my dog,' said the farmhand. 'He cut me!'

'Aye,' growled Hals. 'So take it up with him. It weren't nothing to do with Captain Reiner and...'

'It is to do with me,' said Reiner. 'For, much as I could wish otherwise, I am your captain, and if I cannot control you then I am to blame.'

'Like him and his dog,' said Dag, triumphant. 'If he'd have kept him to heel...'

Reiner spun on him. 'His dog was doing its job. You, you stone skull, were disobeying orders. You were in the wrong, do you understand me?'

Dag frowned for a moment, looking from Reiner to the farmhands and back, then seemingly light dawned. He grinned and gave Reiner a broad wink. 'Oh aye, captain. I understand ye perfectly. I've been bad. Very bad. And I won't do it again.'

Reiner groaned. It was like talking to a post. 'I shall make certain of it.' He turned back to the farmhands. 'So, since I am to blame, I will be the one to make amends. Now, I know no one can put a price on the loyalty of a dog or the pain of a wound, but gold is all I have and not much of that, I'm afraid. So what will you ask in recompense?'

Reiner was worried that there would be difficulties over who would tent with whom that night, since he was sure no one would want to sleep next to Dag, but surprisingly, Jergen volunteered - with a monosyllabic grunt - and the rest of the company breathed a sigh of relief.

Reiner and Franka tented together; a boon for Franka, who would therefore not have to guard the secret of her sex both night and day, but torture to Reiner, who would have to endure her nearness without being able to touch or kiss her.

As they curled up in their separate bedrolls Franka rose up on her elbow. 'Reiner.'

He looked up when she didn't continue. 'Aye?'

She sighed. 'You know I'm not one to advocate murder in cold blood, but... but this boy is dangerous.'

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'But I cannot.'

'But why not? He's mad. He'll kill someone.'

'Is he mad?' asked Reiner.

Franka raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?'

Reiner leaned in and lowered his voice. 'Do you think Manfred is a fool?'

'What has that got to do with it?'

'Manfred admitted as we left that this job was a test, aye?'

'Aye.'

'So, if you were Manfred, and you wanted to know what we did, how I led, if we betrayed you or the Empire, is Karelinus Eberhart the man you would ask to bring you your report?'

Franka frowned for a moment, then a look of comprehension spread over her face. 'You think there is a spy.'

'There must be. Karel can't be anything but a decoy. He's a babe in the woods. One of the others must be working for Manfred as well.'

'And you think it is Dag? You think he only pretends to be mad?'

'No. But I can't be certain. It could be any of them. And if it is him and word gets back to Manfred that I killed him...'

'He'll think you discovered his spy and killed him,' said Franka, then sucked in a sharp breath. 'Any of them? We'll have to watch our tongues.'

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'No talk of running away, or killing Manfred, or flushing the poison from our veins.'

Franka groaned. 'We must find out who it is, and quickly.'

Reiner nodded. 'Aye.'

They stared into the dark corners of the tent for a moment, thinking, then Reiner noticed that their shoulders were touching. He turned and his lips brushed Franka's hair. He nuzzled her neck. 'Let's have a kiss.'

Franka jerked away from him and punched his shoulder. 'Don't be daft. Do you want to be caught?' She rolled over and pulled her blanket up over her shoulders. 'Go to sleep.'

Reiner sighed and lay back. She was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier to control himself. It was going to be a very long journey.

THREE

The Finest Army in the Empire

They reached Averheim without further incident. Whether Dag had been cowed by Reiner's scolding, or it was just that there was nothing to tempt him to violence, the boy remained calm and cheerful, watching the clouds and whistling tavern songs.

At twilight on the fourth day they passed close enough to Nuln to see the orange glow of the great furnaces illuminating the undersides of the black smoke that belched from its many hundred forges. There had been a time, thought Reiner, that the city known as Karl-Franz's anvil, the city that made the guns and swords and devastating cannon that protected the Empire, and that housed the College of Engineers and their wondrous weapons of war, had filled him with a sense of pride. Its superior warcraft was what set the Empire above all other lands. Now, however, the place only inspired in him a chill of dread. All the smoke and flame reminded him too much of the last time he had seen such furnaces and such forges. He could almost feel their heat, and the walls of that terrible red cave closing in on him again.

Two further days of dusty roads and sunburned necks, and they saw at last the grey stone walls of Averheim rising behind bare-branched arbours and patchy wheat fields. The spires of the temples of Sigmar and Shallya, and the towers of the elector count's castle, jutted over the walls and glinted in the noon sun.

Reiner stopped the Blackhearts before they came within view of the main gate. 'Right, lads,' he said. 'Here's where we part company. I don't want the recruiters to know we know one another. Too suspicious if we come in as a group. Sign up where you fit. Pavel and Hals as pikemen, Karel as lancer, and so on. Franz will play at being my valet. When we get to the fort, talk to your comrades, listen, and if you hear interesting things - murmurs of mutiny, treason, what have you - you will "befriend" Franz in the mess and tell him what you have heard, and he will relay it to me. Are we clear?'

A chorus of 'Ayes' answered him.

'Then luck be with you. And remember,' he added, 'no matter how tempting it might be to escape with my eye not upon you, Manfred's poison is still in our veins. His leash is still around our necks. It would bring you up short if you ran. It would choke the life out of you.'

The Blackhearts nodded, grim.

Reiner smiled, trying his best to look the brave commander. 'Now be off with you. When next I see you, we will all be honest soldiers again.'

An hour later, Reiner and Franka rode through Averheim's broad city gate and began winding their way through the cobblestone streets to the Dalkenplatz, the great market in the city's centre. There in the shadow of the city jail was spread a sea of bright stalls and tents where one could buy fruits, vegetables, freshly butchered meat, and meat on the hoof. There were knife sharpeners, candle makers, tanners and cloth sellers, farmers, fishmongers, potters and tinsmiths. Bread and pastries were for sale, as well as sweetmeats, cider and beer. Rotund halflings from the Moot rolled wheels of cheese almost as tall as themselves through the crowd. It made Reiner hungry.

'Franz,' he said with a wave of his hand. 'Go and buy us some meat pies and a jug of cider.'

'What's this?' said Franka, looking up sharply. 'Putting on airs?'

Reiner smirked. 'If we are to be master and servant, we should practise a bit, hey?'

Franka rolled her eyes. 'Trust you to take advantage.' She dismounted and bowed flamboyantly. 'As your lordship desires.'

Then she stuck out her tongue and disappeared into the confusion of tents.

After they had finished their snack, the two sought out Gutzmann's recruiters. They were not hard to find. They had taken over a tavern on the side of the square, a sway-roofed two storey building with mullioned windows. Tall banners had been raised on either side of the door - the griffin of the Empire and the white bear on deep blue that was Gutzmann's standard - and a cheerful, bearded fellow in a shining breastplate and blue breeks and doublet stood outside, looking every young man who passed in the eye saying, 'Yer a strapping lad. How'd you like to string yer bow for good old Karl-Franz?' and 'Three squares a day in General Gutzmann's army. And a bonus just for making yer mark.'

There were precious few young men left in the local population, which seemed almost entirely made up of women in widow's grey, children and old men. Still, there was a slow, steady stream of volunteers shuffling through the tavern's doors. Some indeed were young men - some too young by far - but many more were hardened professional soldiers, wearing the colours of every city in the Empire, men with missing eyes and ears and fingers, men with hard-used faces and well-used swords, who wore their leather jacks and their dented helmets and vambraces as if they had been born in them. And there were some of an even rougher sort: gaunt, thick bearded villains in buckskins and rags, with no weapons but bows and daggers, men with the clipped ears and noses of felons and clumsy burns meant to cover the fact that they had been branded murderer, deserter or worse.

As Reiner and Franka rode up to the tavern the friendly sergeant saluted, grinning. 'Welcome, m'lord. Come to lend a hand?'

'Aye, sergeant. That I have.'

'Yer an officer, m'lord?'

'Junior officer,' said Reiner as he and Franka dismounted. 'Corporal Reiner Meyerling. Late of Boecher's pistoliers. Seeking active duty.'

'Very good, m'lord. Right this way.'

Reiner handed the reins of his horse to Franka. 'Wait here, boy.'

'Wait...?' Franka's fists curled, then relaxed as she remembered her role. 'Yes, my lord.'

The sergeant ushered Reiner through the tavern door, elbowing aside the lesser recruits. Reiner saw Pavel and Hals in the line and gave them a wink. They hid their smiles.

The pikemen's line led to a table where more smiling soldiers in polished armour talked to each recruit in turn, asking them where they had fought before and why they had left their previous service. The recruiters didn't seem too picky. A majority of the men were asked to raise their right hands and pledge to serve the Empire 'unto death,' then sign their names in a big, leather-bound book, or at least make an X if they couldn't write. Once pledged and signed, they were given a few coins and a blue and white cockade to pin to their caps. Only a few men were turned away. A few others were taken away in irons, cursing.

The sergeant led Reiner around this scene to a table at the back of the tavern where a lance corporal sat with his spurred boots up, tapping his teeth with a quill pen. At Reiner's approach he abruptly sat up and affixed a big smile to his face.

'Corporal Bohm,' said the sergeant, 'may I present Corporal Reiner Meyerling. A pistolier.'

'Welcome, corporal!' said Bohm, sticking out his hand. 'Matthais Bohm, bugle with General Gutzmann's third lance.' He was a handsome youth with a swoop of brown hair over bright, eager eyes. He had the height and brawn of a knight, but not yet the hardness or gravity that came with experience.

'Well met, sir,' said Reiner, shaking his hand.

Bohm motioned Reiner to a chair, and they sat on opposite sides of the table.

'So,' said the youth, opening a small leather book. 'You wish to sign on with us?'

'I do,' said Reiner. 'Can't have my barking irons rusting, can I?'

Bohm laughed agreeably. 'Well, we can help you there, I think. But if you wouldn't mind telling me of your previous service. And, er, your reasons for coming here.'

'Certainly,' said Reiner, relaxing back into his chair. Manfred had ordered him to assume a false identity for the mission, and Reiner had spent much of the journey thinking of the tale that would be most pleasing to Gutzmann's ears. 'Before Archaon's invasion, I was stationed with Boecher's Pistols at Fort Denkh, and when that monster Haargroth came racing through the Drakwald on his way to Middenheim, we joined with Leudenhof's army to stop them. Quite a set-to as you can imagine.'

'We've heard stories.' said Bohm, enviously.

Reiner sighed. 'But though I did my part.' he coughed, 'and I think I can modestly say that I pulled more than my weight - I continued to be passed over for promotion.'

'Why so?'

Reiner shrugged. 'I hate to make a charge of nepotism against so august a name as that of Lord Boecher, but it seemed that his sons, and his sons' circle, won the lion's share of honours and commands. And when I was foolish enough to bring a complaint, it only got worse.' He spread his hands. 'The Meyerlings are a small country family. No influence at court. Not enough money to buy what can't be honourably won, and so when I at last realized that there would be no advancement for me under Boecher, I took my leave.'

Bohm shook his head. 'You'd not credit how often I hear that tale. Good men ignored in favour of bad. Well, you've come to the right place. General Gutzmann knows too well the perils of politics and preference, and has made a vow that merit only will be the way of advancement in his army. We welcome all who have felt slighted in other regiments and companies. We are the home of the dispossessed.'

'That is why I sought you out.' said Reiner. 'Lord Gutzmann's fairness is spoken of across the Empire.'

Bohm beamed. 'It is gratifying to hear.'

He turned the little book toward Reiner. 'If you would put your name and rank on this line, and pledge to serve General Gutzmann, Sigmar, and the Empire to the best of your abilities unto death, you will be instated in Gutzmann's army at your full rank, privileges and pay.'

'Excellent.' Reiner raised his right hand and made the pledge, smiling inwardly as he noted that General Gutzmann came before Sigmar and the Empire.

After he had signed Bohm's book, the young corporal shook his hand, smiling broadly. 'Welcome to the finest army in the Empire, Corporal Meyerling. It is a pleasure to have you with us. We leave tomorrow morning from the south gate. Be there at daybreak.'

Reiner saluted. 'A pleasure to find a home, corporal. I will be there without fail.'

As he was leaving, Reiner bumped into Karel coming in. The fool boy grinned at him and almost spoke, but Reiner kicked him in the shin and he yelped instead. A born spy that one, Reiner thought.

The next morning, Reiner rode, slumped miserably in his saddle, through winding cobbled streets to Averheim's southern gate with Franka at his side. A moist, pre-dawn mist made looming half seen monsters of the brick and timber tenements that leaned their upper storeys over the narrow lanes. The fog without was mirrored by a fog within. Reiner had hoped, since he and Franka were separated from the others, that they would at last be able to get a room together alone, but maddeningly, there had been no private quarters available. With all the recruits in town, and it being market day, the city had been full to bursting. Even with all Manfred's reikmarks, Reiner and Franka had had to settle for sharing a cramped room with four longswords from Talabheim who spent the night singing marching songs. Reiner had drowned his frustrations in too many jars of wine, and now had a throbbing head as thick as army porridge.

He was not alone. Gutzmann's recruitment bonus had been nicely calculated to be just enough to get drunk on but not enough to tempt one to leave town, so the men who formed up before the tall, white stone gate under Gutzmann's banners and amidst supply wagons loaded with sacks of wheat, barrels of cured meat, apples, and cooking oil, as well as bags of oats and bales of hay, were a sad, quiet bunch, clutching heads and puking behind rain barrels. The sergeants, so friendly and cheerful the previous afternoon, were showing new faces now; pulling barely conscious recruits out of doss houses and taverns and bullying and kicking them into line. Other soldiers herded reluctant groups of fellows who, having thought better of joining up, had tried to sneak out through other gates, but hadn't been wise enough to remove the blue and white cockades from their caps.

As they made their way through the crowded square, Reiner saw a few of the other Blackhearts. Giano gave him a wink, and Abel a slight tip of the head. Pavel and Hals were hanging on their pikes like they were all that held them up. Hals had a black eye.

At the head of the line, Reiner joined Matthais and Karel and the other junior officers.

'Good morning, Meyerling!' said Matthais cheerily.

'The only thing good about it,' said Reiner, rubbing his temples, 'is that it will eventually be over.'

'Are you unwell, sir?' asked Karel, concerned.

Reiner gave him a withering look.

'Reiner Meyerling,' said Matthais. 'May I present Captain Karel Ziegler of Altdorf.'

'A pleasure to make your acquaintance for the very first time, sir,' chirped Karel.

Reiner closed his eyes.

After a quarter of an hour in which Reiner stared blankly into space, the sergeants at last chivvied the supply wagons and the new recruits into a rough marching order, Matthais bellowed 'For'ard!' in Reiner's ear, and the column staggered out the gate and into the fog. Reiner wished he were dead.

Reiner recovered considerably after the first meal stop. Whether Matthais's claim that Gutzmann's was the finest army in the Empire was true or no, the general certainly did well by his men as far as rations went. Reiner didn't know what the foot soldiers were being fed, but Franka served him cold ham and cheese and black bread with butter, as well as beer to wash it down with; all of better quality than he'd had in other regiments. The beauty of the day was a restorative as well. They rode through rolling farmland with the buzz of insects all around them and the young wheat rippling in the breeze. A broad blue sky soared above, piled high with fluffy white clouds.

When he at last felt human enough to talk in complete sentences, Reiner urged his horse up to the head of the line, where Matthais was singing the praises of Gutzmann to the new junior officers with the fervour of a fanatic.

'The Empire has yet to use him to his full potential,' said Matthais, 'but rest assured, General Gutzmann is the greatest commander in the field. His victories over the orcs in Ostermark and over Count Durthwald of Sylvania are held up as models of strategy among the knightly orders, and his reduction of the Fortress of Maasenberg in the Grey Mountains when the traitor Brighalter made his rebellion has never been equalled for speed and brilliance.'

'Indeed,' said Karel. 'I have studied it myself. The way he drew Brighalter out from cover was masterful.'

Matthais smiled. 'Consequently, he has won the undying loyalty of his men, for his brilliance keeps losses at a minimum. No one dies unnecessarily in General Gutzmann's battles, and the men love him for it. Also, he shares out the spoils with magnanimity. His men are better paid and better cared for than any others in the Empire.'

'Is there anything this paragon doesn't excel at?' asked Reiner dryly as he swatted at a mosquito on his wrist.

Matthais failed to hear the irony. 'Well, the general is nothing with the bow or the gun, but with sword and lance he is nigh unbeatable. His feats of martial valour on and off the battlefield are legendary. He defeated the orc chieftain Gorslag in single combat and led the charge that broke Stossen's line at Zhufbar.'

Reiner groaned to himself. And this was the man he must kill if it proved that he meant to betray the Empire? To stem the tide of praise, he decided to change subject. 'And what will our duties be when we arrive? What is the situation in the pass?'

Matthais took a sip from his water skin. 'I'm afraid there is presently little chance for glory, though that could change. Our little pass is not of the same strategic importance as the Black Fire. It is much smaller and closed for much of the year by snow and ice. And it is buffered from the dead lands beyond by the small principality of Aulschweig, which has been a good neighbour to the Empire for five hundred years, and is enclosed entirely within one valley. We also protect the gold mine situated at the north end of the pass.'

'There's a gold mine?' asked Reiner, feigning surprise.

Matthais pursed his lips. 'Er, yes. The mine is a primary source for the Empire's treasury.'

Reiner laughed. 'And the officers' retirement fund, no doubt!'

'Sir,' said Matthais stiffening. 'We do not joke about such things. The gold belongs to Karl-Franz.'

Reiner straightened his face. Was the boy pretending, or did he mean it? 'No. No, of course not. My apologies. A poor jest. But if that's all there is to our duties, it sounds a bit sleepy. You promised when I signed on that I'd get some use of my pistols.'

'And you will,' said Matthais, brightening. 'You'll not lose your saddle calluses under General Gutzmann's command, never fear. There are bandits in the hills to be chased down, trading caravans to be escorted across the border, and squabbling among the rulers of Aulschweig to keep an eye on.' 'And,' he grinned, 'when there's nothing else to do, we have games.'

Reiner raised an eyebrow. 'Games?'

FOUR

'Tis Always the General

Reiner learned what Matthais meant by games four days later, when at last they reached the fort in the pass.

The journey there was uneventful, a dull slog due south from Averheim through farm and dairy land with the Black Mountains rising like a row of rotting teeth beyond them the entire way. Just after noon on the third day they reached the foothills and felt the first chill breezes nosing down from the heights above. By nightfall, when they stopped to make camp in a thick pine forest, summer had fallen away completely and Reiner was pulling his cloak from his pack and wrapping it around his shoulders.

'Why couldn't Manfred send us somewhere warm?' he muttered to Franka as they lay shivering in their tent that night. 'First the Middle Mountains, now the Black. Isn't trouble to be found on the plain?'

It only got colder the next day, as the long column of recruits wound along a torturous path deeper and deeper into the jagged range. At least the sky remained blue and the sun hot, when they weren't in the shadow of some crag.

That afternoon the path tipped down into a small cleared valley and widened into a well-maintained road. Meagre freeholds appeared on the left and right, where stunted cattle grazed on scrubby grass. At the end of the valley the column passed through the mining town of Brunn, which, though small, was still able to support a large, garishly painted brothel. Reiner smiled to himself. That alone proved that there was a garrison nearby.

On the road beyond the village they began to come across parties of men with picks over their shoulders. Those heading south whistled and chatted as they marched. Those coming north were covered in dirt and trudged along in weary silence. Reiner was thus not surprised when, a short time later, Matthais pointed out a branching path, well worn with cart tracks, that he said was the way to the gold mine.

Not a mile beyond that, the steep, thickly wooded hillsides of the ravine opened up, slowly revealing the column's destination. Coming upon it from the north, it was an odd looking fort, for it was one-sided. There were almost no defences on the Empire side, only a low wall and a wide open gate. Beyond that rose various barracks, stables and storehouses, and an imposing inner keep on the right where Matthais said the senior officers had their quarters. Beyond that were the massive southern battlements, a thick, grey stone wall almost as tall as the keep and stretching the whole width of the pass. The top was notched and crenellated with slots for archers and sluices for boiling oil. Squat catapults sat atop four square towers, all pointing south. In the centre was a great gate - a wide tunnel through the thickness of the wall - with massive, iron-bound wooden doors and an iron portcullis at both ends.

As they got closer, the new recruits were startled to hear a great cheer echo through the pass. Reiner's eyes were drawn to the broad, weedy expanse on the Empire side of the fort that stretched between the two walls of the pass. On the right were neat rows of infantry tents - many more than were needed to house the fort's original compliment of troops. To the left, the ground was devoted to horses. There was a fenced off area for them to roam free, a training ring, and a proper tilting yard, with lanes for jousting and straw dummies for practising lance charges. It was from here that the cheer had rung.

Reiner and the other new officers shot questioning looks at Matthias.

He smiled. 'The games. Would you care to see?'

'Certainly.' said Karel.

So, while the veterans began herding the foot soldiers to their new quarters and assuring them that they would be fed and given their new kit in short order, Matthais led the new sergeants and junior officers toward a big crowd of soldiers of every stripe who ringed the tilting field, whistling and shouting.

There was a canopied viewing stand on one side, to which they made their way, turning their horses over to squires and stepping up onto the wooden platform. A handful of men sat on the long benches - infantry captains by their uniforms - but unlike the enlisted men who watched so avidly in the sun, the officers hardly looked at the field, talking instead amongst themselves in low voices.

'Greetings, sirs.' said Matthais, bowing to them. 'I return with the new blood.'

The officers looked around and nodded, but there were no glad cries of welcome.

'Any for us?' asked one.

'Yes, captain.' Matthais indicated three of the new men. 'Two sergeants of pike and a gunnery sergeant.'

'And ten lance corporals.' said another captain dryly.

The captains returned to their conversation.

Matthais grinned sheepishly at the new men and indicated that they should sit along the first bench.

Once seated, Reiner turned to the field and discovered that Matthais's game was 'tent-pegging', an old parade ground drill where riders took turns trying to pluck brightly painted wooden tent-pegs out of the ground on the tips of their lances while at full gallop. It was a difficult trick, for the pegs were short, and broom stick thin, and it was more dangerous than it first appeared, for if one lowered one's lance just the slightest bit too much, one could catch it in the ground and be catapulted from the saddle.

This happened just as Reiner thought it. A knight flew through the air and landed in a cloud of dust on the hard-packed earth. The crowd of soldiers erupted in cheers and jeers as the knight pulled himself stiffly to his feet. He saluted the soldiers, then walked his horse off the field.

Reiner frowned, puzzled, for the fellow was no youthful lancer, but a hardened knight, in his middle years, long past his training days. He looked around at the other men on the field. There were many young men among them, but just as many looked to be senior officers.

Reiner turned to Matthais. 'Who are the players in this game?'

'Why, all officers corporal and above. The general insists every man be fighting fit.' He sat down next to Reiner. 'We run in sets of five, with all who share the lowest score dropping out before the next heat. Any man unhorsed is out as well. We play until there is only one.' He laughed. 'And 'tis always the general.'

Reiner nearly choked. 'The general plays as well?' He squinted out at the field, the lowering sun harsh in his eyes.

Matthais pointed. 'In the dark blue sleeves. You see him? With the cropped hair and the dented breastplate?'

Reiner stared. The man Matthais had indicated couldn't possibly be a general. He looked hardly older than Reiner himself, a laughing, handsome knight in simple armour, who slapped the backs of those who had made their pegs and joked with those who lost. A captain or obercaptain? Certainly. But a general? He lacked the gravitas.

New pegs were set and a bugle blared. Gutzmann and another knight took their places in their lanes. A soldier dropped a flag and they spurred their mounts into a gallop, lowering their lances as one. As they reached the end of their lanes there was an audible 'tock' and Gutzmann raised his lance high, a bright red peg squarely pinned on his shining lance point, while the other man came up empty. The crowd of soldiers cheered uproariously. It was obvious who their favourite was. Reiner decided that the fellow was a general after all, and one to be reckoned with. These lads would follow him into the maw of Chaos without a qualm. Woe to the fool who brought him low and let his troops discover it. Reiner shivered, hoping fervently that it wasn't Gutzmann who was stealing the gold.

As Gutzmann circled back to the top of the lane, he saw the new men in the stands and trotted over. The infantry officers fell silent as he approached, watching him.

'Well met, Corporal Bohm,' he said, reining up. 'So these are our new companions?'

Matthais bowed. 'Aye, m'lord. And a likely lot they are. Ready for anything.'

'Excellent,' said Gutzmann. He bowed from the saddle to the new recruits, his eyes merry. 'Welcome, gentlemen. We are glad to have you.'

Up close, Reiner could better see the general's age. Though he was as fit as a man half his years, skin drum tight over corded muscles, there were deep lines around his pale grey eyes and silver in his neatly trimmed beard and at his temples.

A knight called from the field and he turned his horse, but then looked back. 'If any of your lads would care to try his luck, he would be more than welcome. We've only recently begun.'

Matthais laughed and held up his hands. 'My lord, we have been riding since before dawn. I think the gentlemen are more interested in rest and a hot meal than tilting at pegs.'

'Of course,' said Gutzmann. 'Foolish of me even to ask.'

'No, no,' said Karel, standing. 'I for one would love to play.'

Reiner and the other new cavalrymen glared murder at the boy. If he had said nothing, there would have been no shame in allowing Matthais's excuse to speak for them, but now that one had volunteered the rest would look weak if they demurred.

'And I.' said Reiner through gritted teeth.

The others followed suit as well, and were quickly brought fresh horses and lances. As Reiner trotted out to the lanes he realized that this had become a test. Whether Gutzmann and Matthais had staged it on purpose or not, they and the other officers would now be watching the new men - to judge their martial skills, of course - but more importantly, Reiner thought, to see how game they were, how much enthusiasm and energy they could muster in the face of an unexpected and unwanted challenge. To see how well they 'played the game.'

It was a game Reiner needed to win. If he wished to learn the fort's intrigues, he would have to become part of the inner circle, and with so horse-mad a garrison, this seemed the best way to do it. Fortunately, though Reiner was only an adequate sword, riding had always come naturally to him, and he had been even more skilled with the lance than the pistol. Only his slight frame had stopped him from becoming a lancer instead of a pistolier. He hoped at least to best Karel. The boy needed a lesson.

Gutzmann's officers watched as the general assigned the new men lanes. They were impressive specimens, tall and broad shouldered to a man, with proud faces and regal bearing. Even though Reiner was of an age with many of them, he felt a boy beside them. And though they called friendly welcomes to the recruits, their expressions remained noncommittal.

Reiner missed his first peg - unsurprising, since neither the horse nor the lance was his own and the ground was unfamiliar, but he made his second, the impact with the peg sending a pleasing shock through his arm and shoulder. Then, after missing on his third and fourth runs, he caught the fifth square in the centre. It was gratifying how quickly the old skills came back. He hadn't couched a lance since before the war, but what his mind had forgotten his body remembered, and soon he was riding just as old master Hoffstetter had instructed him to - rising in the saddle before impact, letting the lance glide along the ground at the correct height, so that instead of stabbing desperately at the peg at the last second, you guided your lance easily into line.

Many of the new officers took only one peg. Some took none at all. So Reiner and Karel, with two apiece, made it into the next round with several of the others. But they would have to improve if they wanted to stay in the game long. Gutzmann's knights all took three or four pegs. Gutzmann took all five.

After three more runs Reiner and Karel were all that were left of the new men. And after another two, Karel was gone as well, having knocked the peg out of the ground that would have tied him with Reiner, but failing to keep it on his lance tip.

Gutzmann gave Reiner an approving nod at the start of the next round, and the other officers began sizing him up. A bearish knight with a bristling black beard pulled up beside him. Reiner had noted him before. A loud, hearty fellow with an ear-splitting laugh and a steady stream of jokes - the sort of man Reiner would have left a tavern to avoid.

'You do well, sir,' said the knight, sticking out a thick-fingered hand. 'Lance Captain Halmer, third company.'

Reiner recognized the name. 'A pleasure, sir. You are the captain of Matthais's company. He spoke highly of you.' Reiner shook the man's hand, then winced in his crushing grip. 'Meyer...ling. Pistolier.'

'Welcome, corporal. It's not often a new man gets this far. Luck to you.'

'And to you.'

Have to watch that one, thought Reiner, wringing the pain from his hand.

Reiner stayed in the running for two more rounds, getting three each time while others got two or less. But the round after that he took only one peg on his first four runs. As he watched the other knights make their fourth runs and bring their tallies to three or four, he knew this would be his last run. Halmer only had two, but he had yet to take less than three and always seemed to come through in the clinch.

Only this time, he didn't. On his fifth run, Halmer's horse stumbled a bit and his point went wide. He had only taken two pegs. Reiner's heart thudded in his chest. His turn was next. If he took his last peg, he would tie Halmer for last, and they would both drop out - petty vengeance for Halmer's crushing handshake - but Reiner had never claimed to be above petty vengeance. He could feel the lance captain's eyes upon him as he circled back to the top of the lanes. He knew the situation as well as Reiner did, and his anger was palpable.

Reiner could barely keep himself from grinning. Suddenly he knew he could take the peg. He had never felt more alive and in command of his abilities. Then he checked himself. He had been commanded to worm his way into the fort and learn its secrets. Making enemies of the officers wouldn't further that aim. He would have to miss the peg and let Halmer win. The temptation to ride his last run with his lance at parade rest had to be fought off too. Halmer would not love him for letting him win, and neither would Gutzmann. The general wasn't the sort of man who would tolerate a man not trying his best. So Reiner must make it look good.

As the soldier dropped the flag, Reiner spurred his horse forward and lowered his lance. It whispered through the sparse weeds of the field like a shark through a shallow sea, homing in on the peg. He knew his aim would be true. He knew he could pink the peg right in its centre. It took every ounce of self control to twitch his lance just a hair to the inside, and he almost played it too close. The peg spun from the ground as he hit its edge.

Reiner reined up, laughing and cursing, then rode back, rueful, to the top of the lanes. 'I had it, my lords.' he said. 'Truly I did. It was the wind from my horse's nostrils blew it aside.'

Gutzmann and the knights laughed, and Halmer joined in, but Reiner felt the captain staring after him, cold eyed and suspicious, as he turned in his lance and rode back to the sidelines.

Franka glared out at the field as she took his reins and helped him from the saddle. 'I wish you'd beaten him. Boasting bully.'

'I wish I could have allowed myself the pleasure.'

Franka turned big eyes on him. 'You let him win?'

'I let Manfred win.' said Reiner, sourly. 'Even from Altdorf he makes me dance.'

FIVE

Paragons of Martial Virtue

After Gutzmann had won the game to the cheers of the soldiers, the officers retired to the fort's keep for dinner in the great dining hall. The new sergeants and corporals were invited to eat with their new comrades, and as the one who had stayed in the game the longest, Reiner was singled out by Gutzmann to join him with his senior staff at the table on the raised dais at the head of the room. The table was long, but even so, it barely had space enough to hold all the officers in attendance. It looked as if Gutzmann had almost doubled the fort's original complement of men - many more than were needed to guard the pass. Both cavalry and infantry captains sat at the table, but Reiner noticed that the cavalrymen sat in the centre seats, nearest Gutzmann, while the infantry were relegated to the wings.

The general made a place for Reiner beside him on his left, forcing a grey-haired, square-bearded knight to shift down. 'Corporal Reiner,' he said as Reiner scooted his chair in and tried to keep his elbows close to his sides, 'May I present Commander Volk Shaeder, my right hand.'

The venerable knight inclined his head. 'Welcome, corporal. You stayed nine rounds I hear. Quite an accomplishment.' He had the soft, grave voice of a scholar, and wore ascetic grey robes over his uniform, but he was as tall and broad as the rest.

A silver hammer of Sigmar hung from his neck by a chain. It looked to Reiner as if it weighed as much as an anchor.

'I would be lost without Volk,' said Gutzmann. 'He sees to the day to day business of the camp and lets me gallivant about playing at soldiers.' He grinned. 'He is also our spiritual navigator, keeping us always pointed toward Sigmar.'

Shaeder inclined his head again. 'I do my humble best, general.'

'To Volk's left,' continued Gutzmann, 'is Cavalry Obercaptain Halkrug Oppenhauer, Knight Templar of the Order of the Black Rose, or Hallie, as we call him.'

A bald, red-faced giant gave Reiner a friendly salute, beaming through a flowing golden beard, his blue eyes twinkling. Reiner recalled that he had been one of the last to drop out of the game. An amazingly nimble rider for a man his size. 'A fine display today, pistolier,' he said. 'Too bad you haven't the weight to make a lance.'

Reiner returned the salute. 'I curse my luck every day, obercaptain.'

'And on my right,' said Gutzmann, motioning with his hand, 'is Infantry Obercaptain Ernst Nuemark, Champion of the Carroburg Greatswords, and hero of the siege of Venner.'

A tanned, clean-shaven man with close-cropped hair so blond as to seem white leaned forward, and nodded solemnly at Reiner. 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance, pistolier,' he said. He didn't seem terribly pleased.

'The pleasure is mine, obercaptain,' said Reiner formally. This was the first time Reiner had seen Obercaptain Nuemark. He hadn't attended the games.

'And where is Vortmunder?' asked Gutzmann, looking around.

'Here, general,' said a captain, standing. He was a wiry, bright-eyed fellow with dark hair and moustaches that had been waxed into jutting points.

'This is your captain, Meyerling,' said Gutzmann. 'Pistolier Captain Daegert Vortmunder. He is a good man. Heed his words.'

'I will, general. Thank you.' Reiner bowed in his seat to Vortmunder. 'Captain.'

'Welcome aboard, corporal. If you can shoot as well as you can ride, we will get along fine.'

'I will endeavour to impress you, captain.' said Reiner.

The first course was served and the officers fell to. The food was excellent.

Gutzmann poured Reiner wine. 'Matthais tells me you fought in the north. With Boecher, was it? Tell me how the end went.'

Something in Gutzmann's voice made Reiner hesitate. Though the general's expression was as friendly and open as ever, there was a hunger in his eyes that made Reiner shiver.

'I'm afraid I was far from the final battle, my lord,' said Reiner. 'I was wounded trying to stop Haargroth's advance, and sat out the end.'

'But you must know more of it than we, stuck as we are on the Empire's hindquarters. Tell me.' It was a command.

Reiner coughed. 'Well, you know the start, I'm sure, my lord: old Huss making dire predictions of invasion from the north, proclaiming his farm boy the reincarnation of Sigmar. Nobody paid any attention until we heard the first news of Erengrad and Praag. Thank Sigmar - or Ulric, I suppose - that Todbringer was quick on the uptake. And von Raukov of Wolfenburg as well. They put enough men in front of Archaon's hordes to slow 'em down for a time and organise a defence.' He sighed. 'That was the hardest part, I think. Getting so many disparate groups to fight alongside one another. Elves from Loren. Dwarfs from the Middle Mountains. Makarev's Kossars. Todbringer practically had to drink from the chalice and swear to the lady to get the Bretonnians in. And still it almost wasn't enough.'

'They had cannon, this time, the northmen,' said Gutzmann.

'Aye, terrible things that seemed almost alive. Their missiles were balls of flame.' Reiner took a sip of wine and went on. 'We had some successes, but there were too many of the devils. It was like trying to stop a river with a gate. And other fiends crept out of the shadows to take advantage of our weakness. Filthy, goat-headed beastmen from the Drakwald, greenskins. They fought amongst themselves as much as they fought us, but it didn't stop the tide.'

'And all the while Karl-Franz and the counts and barons of the south are dithering about who should go and who should stay, and not getting under way.' snapped Gutzmann.

Reiner hemmed noncommittally. 'It may be as you say, my lord. I was at Denkh at the time, preparing for the coming onslaught. The hordes soon took Ostland and then the west of Middenland. That was when I had my moment of glory, such as it was. Took a sword in the leg on my second charge and that was me done, and Haargrath pushed on to Middenheim with the rest of Archaon's horde.' He shrugged. 'I don't mind telling you I'm not sorry to have missed the siege.'

'A bloody business, then?' asked Shaeder.

Reiner nodded. 'Tens of thousands dead by all accounts, commander. Archaon and his henchmen pounded the Ulricsberg for more than a fortnight. Fortunately the Ostland boys had held them off long enough for Todbringer and von Raukov to get their lads in and shore up the defences. Still, it was close for a while, and the northmen were over the walls in places, but then we had a bit of luck with the greenskins. Their chief got it up his snout that he had to be first in, and so went after Archaon. And with the elves and Bretonnians and Kossars harrying the northmen from the forest, they began to lose heart and fell back to Sokh to regroup.' He sat forward. 'Karl-Franz arrived that day and attacked at once, but Archaon held him off, and the battle raged for three days, with Valten and Huss coming in on the second, and engaging Archaon himself in combat on the third.'

'It was there that Valten received his mortal wound, yes?' asked Shaeder.

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'Huss carried him off while Archaon was engaged with the orc chieftain, who had attacked as well.'

Gutzmann snorted at that.

'On the fourth day,' Reiner continued, 'the armies set to again, and it looked grim, for the beastmen attacked Karl-Franz's cannon from the rear, but before either side could win any real advantage, a third force appeared.'

'Von Carstein,' said Gutzmann.

'So my lord has heard,' said Reiner.

'Only rumours. Go on.'

'He raised the dead, my lord. Men of the Empire and of the north alike awoke where they had died and attacked both sides indiscriminately. Archaon's forces fled north while Karl-Franz withdrew his army to Middenheim. The Sylvanians followed, and von Carstein called for the Emperor's surrender and the surrender of the city, but Volkmar stepped out and told him to be on his way, and though I can scarcely credit it, he did. He turned about and buggered off to Sylvania again without another word.'

'And that was it,' said Gutzmann dryly.

'Yes, my lord. Middenheim held, and Archaon's army was dispersed.'

Gutzmann snorted again. 'And Altdorf calls it a great victory.'

'Your pardon, my lord?'

'The Empire was saved not by the reincarnation of Sigmar or the might of Karl-Franz's knights, or the much vaunted Company of Light, but by an orc warboss and an undead sorcerer.'

Reiner coughed. 'Er, they may have been in at the end, my lord, but the brave defensive actions of the men of Ostland and Middenland that kept the hordes at bay cannot be discounted. Middenheim would surely have fallen without them.'

'And if they were well led,' cried Gutzmann, 'the hordes would never have reached Middenheim at all! How many men died unnecessarily because our hide-bound counts continue to think that the only way to defeat an enemy is to fight him head to head, no matter the circumstance? If they hadn't insisted on swinging Sigmar's hammer at targets better slain with a stiletto, it might have been over in weeks, not months.'

'My lord,' said Reiner, annoyed in spite of himself. Gutzmann might well be the tactician he thought himself, but he hadn't faced the hordes. He hadn't stood toe-to-toe with a Kurgan warrior. Reiner had. 'My lord, they were a hundred thousand strong. And the smallest of them as big as two normal men.'

'Exactly!' said Gutzmann. 'A hundred thousand titanic men who must eat pounds of food every single day to keep up their strength.' The general leaned in, eyes gleaming. 'Tell me. You fought them. Did you notice their supply lines? Were they victualled from some northern stockpile?'

Reiner laughed. 'No, my lord. They were barbarians. They had no supply lines. They barely had an order of march. They raped the lands they moved through for their dinner.'

Gutzmann jabbed a finger at Reiner. 'Exactly! So, if one of our noble knights, our paragons of martial virtue, had had the forethought to harvest all the crops and slaughter all the game in Archaon's path, then burned the farms and forests before he reached them?' He banged the table with his palm. 'The northmen would have starved on their feet before they were halfway from Kislev, or more likely fallen to eating each other, the savages. Either way, they would have reduced their numbers considerably with almost no losses on our side. Instead Todbringer and von Raukov sent hastily equipped, unprepared forces against them, which, though they may have slowed them down, also fed their cooking pots and kept them strong.' He laughed bitterly. 'The knights of the Empire so love their tests of arms that they sometimes think that it is better to fight without winning than it is to win without fighting.'

Reiner was no student of military science. He had no idea if Gutzmann's theories would pass muster with other generals, but they sounded sensible.

Gutzmann shook his head. 'It is madness that I should have been sent here while Boecher and Leudenhof and fools of that calibre were sent to defend the Empire in its darkest hour.'

Commander Shaeder leaned forward, eyes anxious. 'But of course we must do as the Emperor bids us, my lord. Certainly he knows better than we how best to defend our homeland.'

'It wasn't Karl-Franz who banished me!' snapped Gutzmann. 'It was that hen-house of Altdorf cowards who were so afraid of my victories in Ostermark that they imagined I would break it from the Empire and crown myself its king. As if I would ever do anything to harm the land I love.'

'Then why,' said a captain of pike from down the table, 'do you turn your back on that land?'

'None of that!' barked Shaeder, glaring at the captain. 'You forget yourself, sir.' A few of the cavalry officers slid nervous glances toward Reiner. Reiner's heart pounded. What was this? This sounded exactly the sort of thing Manfred had asked him to look out for.

'I do not turn my back on the Empire.' said Gutzmann quietly. 'It turns its back on me.' His mouth twisted into a sneer of disgust. 'I wonder sometimes if it would notice if I were gone.'

The table fell silent. Gutzmann looked around, as if only now remembering where he was.

He laughed suddenly, and waved a hand. 'But enough of hypothetical. This should be a merry occasion.' He turned to Reiner. 'Come, sir. What are the new songs in Altdorf and Talabheim? What do they play on the stage? We are starved for culture here in the hinterlands. Will you sing for us?'

Reiner nearly choked on his wine. 'I'm afraid I am no singer, sir. You would be hungrier for culture when I finished than when I started.'

Gutzmann shrugged. 'Very well.' He turned to the hall. 'Anyone else? Will any of the new men give us a song?'

There was a long pause as the recruits squirmed uncomfortably. But at last Karel stood, knees shaking.

'Er.' He swallowed, then began again. 'Er, if my lords would care to hear a ballad, there is one that the ladies ask for at the moment.'

'By all means, lad,' said Gutzmann. 'We are all ears.'

Karel coughed. 'Very good, my lord. Er, it is called, "When will my Yan come home?"'

Reiner braced himself for the worst, but after a few more hesitations Karel stood straight and began singing in the voice of a Shallyan choir boy; high and pure. The room sat silent and rapt as he sang the story of the farm girl waiting for her lover to come back from the war in the north, only to have him return on the shoulders of six of his friends, dead from a poisoned arrow. It was a heartbreaking song, sung with a heartbreaking sweetness, and when at last the farm girl decided to wed her lover in death by scratching herself with the arrow that killed him, Reiner saw many a knight dabbing his eye.

It only seemed to make Gutzmann angry, though he masked it well. 'A beautiful song, lad. But how about something jolly now. Something to lift our hearts.'

After a moment's thought Karel broke into a song about a rogue brought to ruin by a false nun, which had the whole hall singing along by the second chorus, and after that the atmosphere became relaxed and the conversation turned to light topics and filthy jests.

Towards the end of the meal, when pudding laced with brandy had been served and Gutzmann was involved in a loud conversation with some knights to his right about tent-pegging contests of yore and who had fallen and who had broken an arm or leg, Captain Shaeder leaned toward Reiner.

'You must forgive General Gutzmann.' he murmured. 'He is a passionate man, and the inaction of this posting frustrates him. But we are all loyal men here.' He laughed stiffly. 'If the general had a few more years, he would understand that no post is less important than another. And there are many who would be happy with any post at all.'

'Very true, commander.' said Reiner. 'And I took no offence, fear not.'

Shaeder inclined his head, nearly dipping his beard in his pudding. 'You ease my mind, sir.'

After the meal was done, Matthais volunteered to lead Reiner to his quarters, apologizing that he must bunk in a tent outside the north wall, rather than the pistoliers' barracks within the fort.

'We are too full at the moment.' he said.

'Aye.' said Reiner. 'I noticed. Don't quite understand why. The way you described our situation there doesn't seem the need for so many men.'

'Er, yes, well...' Matthais coughed, suddenly awkward. 'I believe I mentioned before some trouble in Aulschweig?'

'Aye. Infighting amongst the rulers or some such.'

Matthais nodded. 'Exactly. Younger brother wants older brother's throne. The usual Border Princes' nonsense. But there's a danger of it coming to a boil presently. The younger brother is Baron Caspar Tzetchka-Koloman, a blow-by who has a castle just the other side of the border. The older is Prince Leopold Aulslander. Altdorf wants Leopold to remain in power, as he is the more stable and level-headed of the two, so we may have to intervene if Caspar makes his play. Thus, extra troops.'

'Ah.' said Reiner. 'All becomes clear.' Or did it, he wondered. Matthais's explanation made sense, but the angry pike captain's outburst at the dinner table still rang in Reiner's ears.

'At least you'll have a tent to yourself.' said Matthais, 'if that's any consolation.'

Reiner's heart leapt, all thoughts of intrigue gone. Alone with Franka? 'Oh, I think I will manage.'

Matthais had been laughing and merry as they left the hall, but now, as they walked through the fort in the cold night air, the young knight lowered his voice. 'Er, I hope you read no treason in General Gutzmann's words tonight, corporal.'

'Not at all, Matthais.' said Reiner. 'His seems a reasonable enough complaint, considering the circumstances.'

Matthais nodded earnestly. 'Then you understand his frustration?'

'Of course,' Reiner replied, pretending the sort of bluff courage he knew lancers of Matthais's kidney valued. 'Any man would be disappointed to be kept so far from the front.'

'But you see the unfairness of it,' the youth pressed as they exited through the north gate. 'The deliberate slight. The danger into which the Empire was placed because of fear and favouritism.'

Reiner hesitated. Matthais's eyes were shining with almost religious fervour. 'Oh, aye,' he said at last. 'A damned shame. Absolutely.'

The young captain grinned. 'I knew you'd see it. You're a bright fellow, Reiner. Not a stubborn old fool.' He looked up. 'Ah. Here we are, your canvas castle.'

He reached for the tent flap, but it opened from within.

Franka bowed in the opening. 'I have laid out your things, my lord.'

Matthais nodded approvingly. 'You're wise to bring a valet from home. I've had to make do with a local boy. Horrible fellow. Steals my handkerchiefs.' He executed a clipped bow. 'Goodnight, corporal. Good luck with your new duties tomorrow. You'll like Vortmunder. He's a bit of a Kossar, but it's all bluster.'

'Thank you, captain. Goodnight,' said Reiner, returning the bow, then letting the flap drop.

He waited for Matthais's footsteps to fade, then turned to Franka, grinning. 'Ha! Alone at last. I have been waiting the last four months for this moment.'

'And you will wait yet another three, my lord,' she replied tartly. 'For my vow is as strong here as it was in Altdorf.'

Reiner sighed. 'But we have the opportunity now! In three months we might be on the march, or trapped in Manfred's town-house again, with no chance for privacy.'

'It will only make it the sweeter when the time comes.'

'Bah!' Reiner started unlacing his jerkin. Then he stopped and looked back at Franka. He smirked. 'Unlace me.'

'What?'

'You are my valet, are you not? Unlace me.'

Franka rolled her eyes. 'You wish to continue the charade out of the public eye?'

'And why not. It will keep us from slipping when we are in company.'

Franka scowled. 'My lord, you seek to cozen me.'

'Not at all. I don't ask to unlace you, do I?'

Franka snorted. 'Very well, my lord. As my lord wishes.' She stepped forward and began tugging roughly at his laces.

'Easy, lass,' Reiner laughed, as he fought to stand still. 'You'll scuttle me.'

'"Lass",' my lord?' said Franka, ripping open his last stays. 'You call your valet "lass"? My lord's eyes are failing, perhaps.' She grabbed his collar and began yanking it down from his shoulders.

'Franka... Franz... you...' With his arms trapped in his sleeves Reiner couldn't keep his balance. He staggered and fell. Franka tried to catch him, but instead went down with him, tipping the cot over. They ended in a muddle of blankets, the light wood frame on top of them.

Franka flailed a slap at him, laughing. 'You did that a'purpose!'

'I didn't!' Reiner cried. 'You were too rough, sir!'

He caught her wrist to stop another slap and suddenly they were in one another's arms, clinging desperately and kissing deeply. They moaned their desire, their hands moving feverishly. Reiner rolled to pull her on top of him, but Franka broke away with a sob.

Reiner sat up. 'What's this?'

'I am sorry, captain,' she said, hiding her face. 'I do not mean to tease, but I am not as strong as I pretend. This is why I beg you so not to press me. For it would take so little to make me give in, and then I could never forgive myself.'

Reiner sighed and pulled her head to his chest. 'Ah Franka, I...'

There were feet approaching the tent. 'Corporal Meyerling!' came a voice. 'Are you within?' It was Karel.

Reiner and Franka leapt up like guilty schoolboys. Reiner tore off his jerkin and tossed it to Franka. 'Here, take this and put it away. And dry your eyes. Hurry.'

Franka turned to Reiner's travel chest as Reiner righted the cot and piled the blankets on top of it. 'Come in,' he called. Karel ducked through the flap, his saddle-bags and armour over his shoulders.

'Corporal Ziegler?' said Reiner.

'They are overbooked, corporal,' Karel said, smiling. 'Thought they had more tents, but they didn't. I said you wouldn't mind if I bunked with you.'

Behind him Franka made a barking noise that might have been a sneeze, but probably wasn't.

Reiner ground his teeth. 'Not at all, sir. Not at all. Come in. Take the other cot.' He glared at Franka. 'Franz will sleep on the floor.'

For obvious reasons, Reiner found it difficult to fall asleep that night, and so while Karel snored happily on his cot, and Franka slept curled in her bedroll, Reiner sat outside the tent, wrapped in his blankets, staring at the stars.

Part of him cursed Karel's inopportune interruption. Part of him thanked him. Reiner had no wish to hurt Franka, but whenever he was in her presence, the urge to crush her to him was overwhelming, and he forgot all promises and honour. Three months! Blood of Sigmar, he might explode by then!

A movement to his left caught his eye. He craned his neck. Three figures were slipping through the tents toward the north road. They all wore long cloaks with hoods pulled far forward to hide their faces.

Reiner frowned. The men might of course have a perfectly innocent reason for being abroad at this hour. A patrol, perhaps. And it was cold. They might wear cloaks to keep warm, but something in the furtiveness of their movements spoke of some dark purpose.

So much cheer on the surface of this place, Reiner thought, sitting back. The games, the songs, the love the soldiers had for their commander. But things stirred in the depths. Both Matthais and Shaeder had tried subtly to discover how Reiner felt about Gutzmann. Was he sympathetic to the general's frustrations, or did he believe the Empire right in all things? Strange - or perhaps not so strange - that Reiner found himself drawn more to Gutzmann's side. The general wanted to escape the suffocating embrace of authority, and so did he.

SIX

Where Does He Lead Us?

The next morning, after entirely too little sleep, Reiner was awakened by Karel, who sprang out of his cot and began donning his new uniform, whistling all the while.

Reiner opened one eye. 'Would you mind very much jumping off a cliff?'

'Did you not hear the bugle?' asked Karel. 'The day has begun.' He took a deep breath. 'I can smell our breakfast cooking in the great hall from here.'

Reiner waved a hand. 'Go on without me, lad. I will follow momentarily.'

Karel grinned as he stepped to the door. 'Don't tarry too long, slug-a-bed, or you shan't get any bacon.'

Reiner groaned, nauseous. Who could think of bacon at this hour?

'I begin to see why Manfred wanted that boy out of his hair,' said Franka, rising from her bedroll.

'Aye.' Reiner sat up, rubbing his face. He sighed. 'Well, Franz, lay out my uniform. Time to go learn my new duties.'

Franka saluted sleepily. 'Aye, sir.' She crossed to his trunk and took out his newly assigned uniform: slashed breeks and jerkin in Gutzmann's deep blue and white. Reiner splashed his face in the bowl of freezing water at his bedside and shivered in the morning chill. He almost longed for the comforts of Manfred's townhouse again. Almost.

'While I'm gone.' he said, as Franka helped him into his jerkin, 'your duties are to nose about and listen to the other valets, cooks and so forth. Rumour flies faster through the kitchen than the parlour, as they say. See what they are saying about Gutzmann and Shaeder and the rest. There's a struggle going on here and I want to know who has the winning hand. If you see any of our comrades, canvass them as well.'

'Aye, captain.'

'And give us a kiss.'

'No, captain.'

'Bah! Insubordination. Intolerable!'

After breakfast, which he found he had a stomach for after all, he presented himself to Captain Vortmunder outside the stables, which were huge - three long wooden buildings - crowded with horses and swarming with knights, lancers and pistoliers.

The captain scowled at him, his moustaches like needles pointing at the sky. 'Sleeping late your first day, Meyerling? An excellent start.'

Reiner clicked his heels. 'Forgive me, captain. I am still a bit unfamiliar with the camp.'

'Then we will remedy that.' Vortmunder looked around at the men walking their horses out of the stables and fitting them with saddle and bridle. 'Hie! Grau! Here!'

A corporal saluted and trotted over. He was a square-jawed bantam-weight, lean and compact, with close-cropped blond hair and a neat beard. Reiner saw that many of the young cavalry officers sported the same look - an army of Gutzmann imitators - or perhaps worshippers. 'Yes, captain,' the corporal said, coming to attention.

'Light duty for you this morning, Grau. You will show Corporal Meyerling around the fort and familiarize him with his duties. Bring him to the parade ground after noon mess, in full kit and ready to ride. That is all.'

Grau saluted, beaming. 'Yes sir!'

Vortmunder turned to Reiner. 'Listen to him well, corporal. I don't care for slow starters. A keen mind is as important as a sharp eye to a pistolier.'

'Yes, sir.' said Reiner. 'Thank you, sir.' He saluted as well, then followed Grau.

When they were out of Vortmunder's earshot, Grau grinned and nudged Reiner in the ribs. 'I'm in your debt, old man. You've got me out of stable duty.'

Reiner raised an eyebrow 'Pistoliers clean the stables? You have no squires?'

'Gutzmann wishes us to learn discipline. No soft berths here. No buying your way out of duty, no matter who your father is. I hated it at first. But I don't mind so much now. We're the best army in the Empire because of it. There's none to match us.'

'Aye?' said Reiner. 'You're not the only army to claim it.'

'But it's the truth with us. You'll see this afternoon.' He pointed to the big south wall. 'First things first. The great south wall. Thirty feet thick, fifty feet tall. It could probably stop most armies unmanned, but we man it anyway. Gives the foot something to do.' He lowered his hand to the gate. 'Oak doors. Two portcullises. Murder room above, with vents for pouring oil or lead on anyone who manages to get through the first gate. The walls can be reached through the gatehouse guardroom and each of the four towers.'

'And the only army likely to attack is that of a kingdom that has been friendly with the Empire for five hundred years?' said Reiner. 'No wonder you play so many games.'

'Oh, there's fighting, never fear,' said Grau. 'Nests of bandits in the hills. The occasional orc raiding party. You'll know every goat track and rabbit trail for a hundred leagues before you're here a month.' He swung his arm to the keep. 'If an army breaches the south wall - not bloody likely, but if - we fall back to the keep. Armoury and main powder room are in there, as well as quarters for all the top brass and the barracks for their personal guard. The gate is like the south wall's in miniature. Oak doors. Murder room above, which also houses the winches that raise and lower the two portcullises. We've food, water and space to house five hundred men for three weeks.' He coughed. 'Unfortunately, there's two thousand of us at the moment, now that you lot have joined us.'

'Comforting,' said Reiner.

Grau turned to the other half of the fort. 'Stables. Smithy. Feed barn. Infantry drill yard. Barracks for the knights, lancers and pistoliers. Those new ones are for the infantry. Gutzmann built them when he doubled the garrison. And still there ain't enough. Hence the tents north of the fort.'

'Hence I'm sleeping under canvas.'

Grau grinned. 'Invigorating, ain't it?'

'I'll be happy to switch with you.'

Grau laughed. 'No fear.' He started back to the stables. 'Come, let's have a look at your kit. You brought your own horse?'

'Aye.'

'Well, we'll see if he's up to snuff.'

They found Reiner's horse and his gear and Grau looked it over while he explained Reiner's duties and what his days would consist of. Reiner grew tired just hearing it. Rise at daybreak every day, groom one's horse and clean one's tack. Then either drill, drudgery, or duty for the rest of the day. A third of the force was always on patrol, or escorting merchants to and from Aulschweig. A third was drilling on the parade ground, practising turns and wheels, shooting and swordplay from horseback. The last third was cleaning the stables or feeding the horses or mending tack or any of a dozen unpleasant but necessary chores. The more he listened, the more relieved Reiner was that he wasn't actually stationed here. He didn't know how long he would have to maintain his pistolier charade before he learned what Gutzmann was up to, but the sooner he could get away the better. Hard labour had never been his forte.

As Grau and Reiner led Reiner's horse to the smithy to be reshod - apparently Manfred's farrier did inferior work - Reiner heard raised voices coming from the far side of the privy shed, a low, stone building built against the canyon wall behind the stables.

'No man puts hands on me! I'll murder ye, ye clot!'

Reiner groaned. That could only be one man.

And as Reiner and Grau passed the shed, he was proved correct. Dag flew out of the door and fell across their path, his nose streaming red. He bounced back up into the face of a hulking crossbowman, who was cursing and shaking a filthy mop at him.

'Y'filthy little maggot, I'll shove you down the jakes and piss on you.'

'Touch me again and y'won't have nothing to piss from, y'great bullock!' shouted Dag.

'Hoy!' cried Grau. 'Stand down the both of you!'

The men looked up. The crossbowman stepped back, cowed by the presence of junior officers, but Dag, seeing Reiner, held out pleading hands.

'Captain Reiner, help me!' he called. 'This oaf tried to push me in the piss trough.'

Grau looked around at Reiner. 'You know this fellow?'

'Hardly.'

'I only bumped him, sirs,' said the crossbowman. 'The man's mad.'

'Mad!' Dag turned back to the crossbowman. 'Y'call me mad? I'll show ye mad! I'll eat yer liver!'

'Archer!' Reiner barked. 'Come to heel, curse you! What is the meaning of this!' He spun Dag around by the shoulder. Dag's eyes flared, but before he could speak, Reiner jabbed his finger in his face. 'You are mad, you horrible man! Starting fights for no reason! Calling on me as your captain! Do I look an archer? I am a corporal of pistoliers, footman! Your better in every way! And you would do well to remember it! Now stop this foolishness or you'll wind up in stir and be of no use to anyone! Do you understand me, cur?'

Dag hung his head, but Reiner was certain he saw a smile on the archer's lips. 'Aye, captain, er, corporal. I understand. Aye.'

'You will keep your fists, and your insults, and your liver eating to yourself, do you hear?'

'Aye, corporal.'

'Good.' Reiner stood back. 'Now be off, the both of you, and if I hear any more of this I'll string you up myself.'

He turned away with Grau and they continued towards the stables as Dag and the crossbowman slouched sulkily back into the privies, giving each other dirty looks.

Reiner breathed a sigh of relief. The damned madman had almost given the game away. Why had Manfred cursed him with command of such a fool? He shrugged as Grau gave him a questioning look. 'I did the fellow the kindness of letting him fetch me some water in exchange for a few coins one night on the march here, and now he thinks me his master. He's moon touched.'

Grau grinned. 'Well you gave him a proper scolding. You'll make parade corporal with that tongue. Strewth!'

Noon mess for officers was served in the keep's great hall, where Reiner had supped the night before. This time, however, he did not sit on the dais with the captains, but mucked in with the other corporals on the long tables that ran the length of the room. It was a noisy affair, with much banter and horseplay once the oath to Sigmar had been pledged and the bread broken.

But the tensions he had felt elsewhere were here as well. There was very little mixing between the sergeants of the infantry and the corporals of the cavalry. They sat at separate tables and shot suspicious glances at each other. And under the cheery cacophony of insults and jokes he heard darker mutterings.

As he passed a table of sergeants he heard one say, 'We might lead 'em. But it's him and his cursed centaurs they love.'

One of the man's companions came to Gutzmann's defence. 'And why not? He's the best leader you've served under.'

'Aye, but where does he lead us? That's the question, ain't it?'

The question indeed. But though all around Reiner the cavalry officers exchanged sly glances and made veiled references to 'the future', they were cagey in his presence. It maddened him. Their smug smiles and sly looks spoke of a conspiracy, but Reiner could learn nothing.

He could tell Grau itched to tell him what was afoot. After his lambasting of Dag, the corporal had decided Reiner was a good egg. He spent the whole of their meal cautiously feeling him out, trying to determine his loyalties, but afraid yet to betray himself, just as Matthais had the night before.

'But you've seen it close hand, haven't you, Meyerling?' he asked as they sat with the other pistolier corporals. 'How it is titles that win promotion, not ability. That is the problem with the Emperor's army. Noble lackwits become generals while men with real talent can't rise above captain.' He sighed, perhaps a little too theatrically, 'If only a man like General Gutzmann ran things. We'd have professional soldiers leading us, men with experience in battle instead of politics.'

Reiner nodded sincerely, for he knew that was what Grau wanted him to do. 'Aye. That's how things should be. A modern, professional army, free of patronage. Too bad there's no chance of it happening in our lifetimes.'

Grau's eyes widened. He sat forward. 'You might be surprised, Meyerling. You might be surprised. Things might change quicker than you think. Perhaps not in the...'

The pistolier to Grau's left, a round-faced fellow named Yeoder, elbowed him in the ribs. Grau looked up and followed his gaze. A hush was falling on the cavalry tables as a company of men rose from their table near the dais and walked toward the hall's side door.

They were an impressive sight, twenty tall, stern greatswords, all in black, with snow white shirts showing at their cuffs and through their slashings. Their breastplates were black chased with silver and their kit matched down to the pommels of their swords and the buckles of their shoes. All had the twin comet stitched onto the right shoulders of their jerkins and silver hammers on a chain around their necks, which were smaller twins to the one that Shaeder wore. Their captain was a head shorter than the rest, but as powerfully built, with a magnificent square-cut white beard and eyes as blue and cold as a winter sky.

A circle of silence moved with them as they traversed the room, the conversations at the tables dying off and the cavalry officers turning to look at them over their shoulders after they had passed. Reiner could feel the hate emanating from his companions for the impassive men.

'Who are they?' he asked, when the men had at last left the hall and conversation had resumed.

Grau spit over his left shoulder. 'Shaeder's Hammer, we call 'em.' he said. 'They are Bearers of the Hammer, honour guard from Averheim's Temple of Sigmar, of which Shaeder was once a captain. Now they're his personal guard.'

'Gloomy lot.' Reiner said.

'Bah.' said Yeoder. 'Just stuck up. Think Sigmar is their personal property. Nobody else is good enough.'

'They'll find out.' said another pistol, darkly.

Grau gave him a sharp look and quickly turned the conversation to other things.

* * *

That night Reiner stumbled through the flap of his tent and collapsed onto his cot, utterly exhausted.

The afternoon had been one of the most gruelling of his young life. He had thought himself a veteran of the parade ground, having trained under Lord von Stolmen's master of horse, Karl Hoffstetter, considered one of the Empire's finest. But while Captain Vortmunder couldn't teach Reiner anything he hadn't learned already from Hoffstetter, what he did do was drill it into him until his limbs felt like lead and the blisters the constant repetition raised on his fingers, knees and thighs had burst and bled and burst again. No horse master back home had dared ride his pupils so hard. They were the sons of noblemen, used to being waited on and pampered. They would practise for a while and then they would retire to the taproom to boast about their prowess.

Not so with Vortmunder. He had no pity, and no deference to rank. He had his pistoliers ride and fire at targets again and again and again, until the actions became second nature and they hit the bull's-eye ten times in a row. He barked at them for the slightest failure of form. If a pistolier was ahead or behind his fellows as they wheeled, or he took too long to reload on the fly as he circled back from the target, Vortmunder was there, cantering beside him, ramrod straight in his saddle, pointing out with his riding crop the pistol's offence.

And Reiner had felt the brunt of his attention. He had become the captain's target of choice.

'Let's have Gutzmann's favourite out again,' he would say when he was detailing the next exercise. 'Show us how they do it in the north, Meyerling.' Until Reiner thoroughly regretted his tent-pegging grandstanding the day before.

At the same time, even though by the end of the day he was cursing Vortmunder's guts with a vehemence he usually reserved for loan-sharks and officers of the watch, when the captain pulled up beside him as they were returning their horses to the stables and clapped him on the back with a 'Good work, corporal,' he felt a swelling of pride that almost made him want to do the whole thing over the next day.

Franka laughed at him as she helped him off with his jerkin, for he could barely lift his arms.

'Don't mock me, villain,' he said. 'Shall I tell you how weary I am?'

'Tell me,' said Franka.

Reiner looked over at Karel, who was already fast asleep in his cot, then leaned in to whisper in Franka's ear. 'Even had we the tent to ourselves, you would be as safe as if in a Shallyan convent.'

Franka's eyes widened. 'You are weary indeed, m'lord.'

For five days Reiner's routine continued the same. He was put in charge of ten men, and under Vortmunder's and Grau's guidance, learned the orders to give them, how to lead them in their turns and manoeuvres, and how to work with the other squads of pistols so that the entire company fought as a cohesive unit. It was exhausting, arse breaking work, but though he cursed it every night and every stiff-jointed morning, he found himself enjoying it more and more. He might almost be tempted to make it his life.

He had little time to seek out the other Blackhearts, and when he did they had little to tell him. Pavel and Hals had heard rumblings among the pikemen of some kind of revolt, but no details. Giano and Gert, attached to units of crossbowmen, heard similar whispers, but what shape the revolt would take they couldn't say. Dag had done two days in the brig for fighting and had heard nothing. Abel said he had heard that Gutzmann meant to storm Altdorf, but he said the fellow who had said it was drunk at the time, so he didn't credit it. Jergen said he had nothing to add, and Karel hadn't heard anything. Reiner wasn't surprised. The boy was so wide-eyed and guileless that no conspirator would trust him with a secret.

Of course he had done no better. Several times Grau had seemed to be on the verge of letting him in on the cavalry's secret, but something always made him hesitate at the last moment.

On the morning of the sixth day, as Reiner was saddling his horse outside the stables, Matthais approached on horseback and saluted Vortmunder.

'Begging the captain's pardon,' he said, 'but cavalry Obercaptain Oppenhauer accompanies the trade caravan to Aulschweig and requests an escort of pistoliers.'

'Very good, corporal.' said Vortmunder, and looked around at his men. His eyes lit upon Reiner. 'Ah. Take Meyerling. Time he rode further than the tilt yard and back.' He raised his voice. 'Meyerling, assemble your men and follow Corporal Bohm. He will give you your orders.'

And so, a short while later, Reiner rode out of the north gate at Matthais's side, their respective squads tailing behind them, accompanied by a unit of crossbowmen sitting on the back of an empty cart. The morning sun glanced blindingly off the neat rows of tents beyond the north wall, and glittered the dew on the tilting yard grass.

'Er, isn't Aulschweig south?' Reiner asked Matthais. Matthais grinned as they headed up the north road. 'Aye. But we're to the mine first to pick up some mining supplies before meeting the trade caravan. Every month we bring Empire goods to Baron Caspar at his castle just the other side of the border. In return we get grain, fodder, meat, and cooking oil. All for cheaper than carting it in from Hocksleten or Averheim, and better quality too. Very fertile valley, Aulschweig.'

Reiner raised an eyebrow. 'Aulschweig has a gold mine as well?'

'Er, no.' said Matthais. 'A tin mine. But, er, the tools are the same.'

'Ah, I see. And Obercaptain Oppenhauer comes with us?'

'Aye.'

'What's a cavalry obercaptain doing riding herd on a milk run?'

Matthais shot Reiner a hard glance. 'You are very astute, corporal. Er, well, there is another purpose for our visit. You remember I told you that Caspar has been eyeing his brother's throne?'

'I remember.'

'Well, apparently his grumblings have been getting louder of late, so Gutzmann sends Oppenhauer along to whisper soothing words in his ear. And also to remind him of our might.'

'Sounds a bit of a hothead, this Caspar.'

'You'll see.'

The mine was only a few hundred yards along a well-trodden path that branched westwards from the pass. Entry to it was guarded by fortifications that mirrored in miniature those of the fort - a thick, crenellated wall that blocked the canyon from wall to wall, with a tower on each side of a deep, portcullised gate.

Inside the wall were barracks, stables, and other outbuildings Reiner couldn't guess the purpose of. A system of pipes ran through one from a small aqueduct. Crowds of dust-caked miners trooped in and out of the mine entrance, a large, square opening in the mountainside framed with tree-trunks, carrying pickaxes and wheeling barrows. Almost as many pikemen and crossbowmen watched over them, patrolling the walls and every inch of the compound.

As Matthais called his party to a halt outside a low, weathered wood building, an overseer bustled out to greet them.

'Morning, corporal. Shipment ain't quite ready. A few minutes yet.'

'Very good.' The lancer turned to Reiner. 'Gives me an opportunity to show you around.'

Reiner sighed to himself. If he never went underground again it would be too soon. 'Certainly, corporal. Lead on.'

Matthais and Reiner dismounted and walked towards the mine. Matthais pointed out different buildings as they went, each of which was as busy as a beehive in the spring. 'That is the sluice room, where the raw ore is separated from the earth by means of a stream and a series of screens. There is the smelter, where the collected nuggets are melted and skimmed of impurities. This is the shakedown room, where the miners must strip and turn out their pockets before they leave the mine, to make sure they aren't absconding with any ore.'

'Very thorough of you.'

'One can't be too careful.'

Reiner shivered as he stepped into the mine. Memories of the last time he'd gone underground flashed through his head, but this cave was very different. It had none of the gloom and despair of the Kurgan mine. Nor the smell. Instead, all was bustle and industry. Two wide tunnels sloped away from the main entrance into the depths, and in and out of them went steady streams of miners, marching away with empty carts and picks on their shoulders, or trudging back with full carts and grime on their faces. Reiner found all this activity very interesting. If the mine was working at such a feverish rate, why was the stream of gold that reached Altdorf the merest trickle? It seemed as if Matthais's tale of difficulties in getting ore from the mine was less than the truth. Reiner didn't feel that now was the time to call him on it.

A third tunnel had no traffic. Its mouth was cluttered with broken equipment and stacks of supplies. Reiner pointed to it. 'Did this one run dry?'

Matthais shook his head. 'Structural problems. Had a cave-in recently. The engineers won't let the miners work it until it is safely shored up again.' He beckoned Reiner towards the left side of the entry chamber. 'This way. I want to show you something.'

As Reiner and Matthais dodged through the streams of miners, Reiner noticed that the men fell into a sullen silence as they passed, and then murmured under their breath behind them. Gutzmann must be driving them hard, Reiner thought. But then he thought there might be more to it than that. For as he looked around, he saw other signs of discontent. The miners had a haunted look, and glanced often over their shoulders. A group of miners had surrounded one of their foremen and were complaining vigorously. Reiner caught the words 'gone missing' and 'ain't doin' nothing about it.'

'Has there been some trouble?' Reiner asked.

Matthais snorted. 'Peasant nonsense. They claim men are disappearing in the mine. Running away, is my guess. There have been a number of village girls "stolen away" as well.' He shrugged. 'It doesn't take a magus to add that up. A few boys manage to steal a nugget of ore or two and off they go with their sweethearts to the flatlands where it doesn't snow eight months of the year.'

'Ah,' said Reiner. 'Like enough.'

They stepped through an open arch into a short hall.

'This is what I wanted to show you,' said Matthais. 'The first owner of this mine was a bit odd. Perhaps he wanted to be closer to his gold. But he decided that he would live in the mine, and so built his house underground. Here.'

He gestured before them to a beautifully carved wooden door that wouldn't have been out of place fronting some noble's Altdorf townhouse. Matthais pushed it open and peeked in, then beckoned Reiner to enter. The illusion continued inside. The entrance hall looked like a townhouse foyer, with a grand stairway curving up to a second floor gallery, and doors leading off to a sitting room on the left and a library on the right. That such a place existed at all so far from civilization was amazing in its own right, but what made it truly incredible was that everything, from the stairway, to the newel posts and banisters, to the statues of buxom virtues tucked into niches, to the moulding on the ceiling, to the oil lamp sconces that lit the place, was carved from the living rock. Even the tables in the library and some of the benches and chairs grew from the floor. And this was no crude cave dwelling. The ornamentation was exquisite, baroque columns wrapped in stylized foliage, heraldic beasts holding the wall sconces, gracefully curved legs on the stone tables and chairs. It took Reiner's breath away.

'It's beautiful,' he said. 'Mad, but beautiful. He must have paid a fortune.'

'Shhh,' said Matthais, as he followed Reiner into the sitting room. 'Not really supposed to be here. The engineers of the mine have taken it for their offices and kip. Gutzmann's had quite a time convincing them not to knock out some of the fixtures to make room for their infernal contraptions. No eye for beauty. If it ain't practical, they don't see it.'

A pair of wooden double doors at the far end of the sitting room opened, pinning them in a bar of yellow light. Shaeder glared out at them.

'What are you men doing here?'

Matthais jumped to attention, saluting. 'Sorry, commander. Just showing Meyerling our local marvel. Didn't mean to intrude.'

Behind Shaeder, Reiner could see a dining room, in the centre of which was a large round table, also carved from the rock. Around it sat a colloquy of engineers: grimy, bearded men in oil blackened leather aprons, many wearing thick spectacles, poring over a parchment spread on the table. Stumps of charcoal and ink quills were tucked behind their ears, and they held little leather-bound journals in their grubby hands.

'Well, now you've seen it,' said Shaeder. 'Be off with you.'

'Yes, sir.' Matthais saluted as Shaeder closed the door again. He shrugged at Reiner like a boy caught stealing apples.

As they tiptoed out through the door again, Reiner looked over his shoulder. 'Is the commander in charge of the mine?'

Matthais shook his head. 'Not officially, but Chief Engineer Holsanger was crushed in the cave-in and the commander has taken over his duties until Altdorf can send a replacement. Stretches him a bit thin. Makes him grumpy.'

'So I see.'

As they came into the mine proper again, Reiner heard raucous laughter and a familiar voice raised in protest. It was Giano, on duty with a squad of crossbowmen who watched the miners as they came and went.

'Is true, I tell you,' Giano was saying. 'I smell with my own eyes!'

'What's the trouble, Tilean?' asked Reiner.

'Ah, corporal!' said Giano. 'Defend for me, hey? They say I am be fool!'

A burly crossbowman chuckled and jerked his thumb at Giano. 'Forget him, corporal. The garlic-eater says there be ratmen in the mine. Ratmen!' He laughed again.

'Is true!' insisted Giano. 'I smell them!'

'And how do you know what a ratman smells like, soldier?' asked Matthais, condescendingly.

'They kill my family. My village. They come up under the grounds and eat all the peoples. I never forget the stinking.'

Matthais glared. 'Ratmen are a myth, Tilean. They don't exist. And if you don't want to spend some time in stir, you'll keep your foolishness to yourself. These peasants are superstitious enough already. We don't need them downing tools every time a rat squeaks in the dark.'

'But they here. I know...'

'It don't matter what you know, soldier,' snapped Reiner. 'Or think you know. The corporal has ordered you to be silent. You will be silent. Am I clear?'

Giano saluted reluctantly. 'Clear as bells, corporal. Yes, sir.'

Matthais and Reiner left the mine.

As the party rode back toward the fort with the loaded supply wagon, Reiner began to wonder why the armed escort had gone to the mine to pick up its cargo instead of waiting for the cart to come to the fort. Did Obercaptain Oppenhauer really think that a shipment of mining supplies was in danger in the short mile twixt the mine and the fort? Or was Manfred's order to sniff out suspicious activity causing Reiner to read nefarious motives into the most innocent of army procedures?

In any event, they reached the fort without incident. A train of wagons and carts joined them there, piled high with luxury goods from Altdorf, iron skillets from Nuln, wine and cloth and leather goods from Bretonnia, Tilea and beyond. As the party formed into march order, Oppenhauer trotted up on an enormous white charger that still looked small for his gigantic, barrel-chested frame.

'Morning, lads,' he cried in a booming voice. 'Ready for our outing?'

'Yes sir, obercaptain,' said Matthais saluting. 'Beautiful day for it.'

Reiner saluted as well, and they got under way, passing through the main gate into the pass to Aulschweig. The terrain was the same as that to the north of the fort. Steep, pine-covered slopes rising up to rocky, snow-capped peaks. The air was biting cold, but they still found themselves hot in their breastplates as the sun beat down on them.

'So, Meyerling,' said Oppenhauer. 'Getting used to our routine?'

Reiner smiled. 'I am, sir. My arse, however, is still a tenderfoot.'

Oppenhauer laughed. 'Vortmunder running you ragged, is he?'

'Aye, sir.'

They carried on in this merry vein for an hour or so, trading banter, jokes and good-natured insults. Reiner noticed that the lancers and pistoliers were more high-spirited here than in the camp. It was as if they were schoolboys who had run away from their tutor. He wondered if it was only that they weren't drilling and doing chores, or if it was the fact that there were no infantry officers around. He hoped that this relaxation might loosen their tongues, but whenever they started to talk about 'the future' or 'when Gutzmann shows Altdorf his mettle,' Oppenhauer 'harrumphed' and the conversation swung back to the usual barrack room subjects.

After a time one of the lancers began singing a song about a maid from Nuln and a pikeman with a wooden leg, and soon the whole company joined in, traders, draymen and all, inventing filthier and filthier verses as they went on.

But just as they were coming around to the sixth repetition of the chorus, an arrow appeared in the chest of one of the crossbowmen, and he fell off the supply cart. Before Reiner could comprehend what had happened, a swarm of arrows buzzed from the woods, targeting the other crossbowmen. Two more went down.

'Bandits!' shouted Matthais.

'Ambush!' boomed Oppenhauer.

All around Reiner horses were rearing and men were screaming. The surviving crossbowmen were returning fire at their invisible assailants. Reiner's pistoliers were drawing their guns.

'Hold!' Reiner cried. 'Wait for targets!'

A lancer fell, clutching his neck.

Oppenhauer stood in his saddle. An arrow glanced off his breastplate. 'Forward! Ride! Do not stand and fight!'

The crossbowmen hauled their wounded onto the carts and the draymen and traders whipped their carthorses into a lumbering canter. Reiner's and Matthais's squads flanked them. As the party surged ahead, ragged men in tattered buckskin leggings and layers of filthy clothing ran out of the woods after them, spears and swords in hand.

'Now, lads!' called Reiner. He and his squad drew their pistols and fired left and right. Bandits dropped, twisting and screaming. Vortmunder's constant drilling showed in the steadiness of the pistoliers as they used their knees alone to guide their horses, while reloading and firing behind them.

'Meyerling!' bawled Oppenhauer. 'Guard the rear. 'Ware their ponies.'

'Aye, sir. Rein in, lads. Double file behind the last wagon. Fire as you can.'

Reiner looked back as he and his men let the wagons slip ahead. More bandits were bursting from the woods, but these were mounted on wiry hill ponies, half the size of Reiner's warhorse. They raced after the company. The pistoliers could have outdistanced them easily, but the heavily laden carts were too slow. The bandits were gaining.

Reiner reloaded and fired, adding his shots to the ragged volley of his men. Only a few found a mark, but one was a fortunate hit, catching the lead pony in the knee. It screamed, leg buckling, and went down on its neck, throwing its rider. Two more ponies crashed into it from behind and fell. The rest leapt the carnage and kept coming. They closed with every step.

The road jogged sharply around an outcropping of rock. The crossbowmen and traders clung desperately as the carts bumped and fishtailed. Reiner hugged his horse's neck as he leaned into the turn. The cart full of mine supplies hit a stone, bucked, and came to earth again with a bang. One of the smaller crates jumped and slid. A crossbowman made a grab for it, but it was too heavy. It tipped off the back of the cart and bounced a few times before coming to rest on its side. The rest of the carts swerved around it.

'Obercaptain!' cried Matthais, as the box rapidly fell behind them. 'We've lost a crate!'

'Sigmar curse it!' Oppenhauer growled. 'Turn about! Turn about! Defend that crate!'

'Turn about, lads!' Reiner called. He and Matthais reined up and wheeled in tight circles with their men behind them as the traders' carts began lumbering around. Oppenhauer swung around to take the lead. Reiner was baffled. Was the obercaptain so concerned with picks and shovels that he would endanger his men's lives, and his own, to rescue them? What was in that crate?

As Reiner's and Matthais's squads rode back round the bend ahead of the carts, Reiner saw that some of the bandits had stopped. Four of them were trying to carry the crate into the trees. The others were on guard. The four with the crate could barely lift it.

Oppenhauer shouted back to the draymen over the thunder of their hooves. 'Stop your carts left and right of the crate! We shall need their cover while we load.' He pointed at Reiner and Matthais. 'Clear the men at the box, then take cover behind the carts.'

Reiner and Matthais saluted, then raised their arms.

'Pistols ready,' said Reiner.

'Lancers ready,' said Matthais.

The pistoliers held their guns at their cheeks. The lancers pointed their lances at the sky.

'Fire!' cried Reiner.

His men levelled their guns and fired into the cluster of bandits. A few dropped, a few fired back. The rest ran to their ponies, trying to remount.

'Charge!' cried Matthais.

The lancers lowered their lances and spurred their horses into a thundering gallop. Oppenhauer charged with them.

'Sabres!' Reiner called.

His men drew their swords and followed the lancers and Oppenhauer as they ploughed into the bandits, impaling them and running them down. The rest scattered, on foot or on horseback, racing for the woods as the carts pulled up around the crate. More bandits were running up the road, most on foot - stragglers from the ambush - but when they saw the situation they too melted into the woods.

Reiner and Matthais circled back quickly with their squads and dismounted behind the cover of the carts as the crossbowmen began firing bolts into the trees. They were answered by a storm of arrows that thudded into the wagons and cargo.

'Lancers!' bellowed Oppenhauer, jumping off his horse. 'Help me with the crate!'

Matthais and three of his men stepped to the crate and grabbed the edges. Even with Oppenhauer joining them, they strained to lift it. Reiner's questions were becoming suspicions. He saw that the lid had pulled up at one corner and stepped forward.

'Let me give you a hand.'

'We have it, Meyerling,' grunted Oppenhauer, but Reiner ignored him and helped lift. As they edged it up on the cart, next to another just like it, Reiner got a glimpse under the lid. It was filled with small rectangles of yellow metal that shone like...

Gold.

Before he could be sure of what he had seen, Oppenhauer pounded the lid shut with the heel of his hand.

'Now, ride! Ride!' he called.

Reiner glanced at the obercaptain as he hurried back to his horse, but Oppenhauer's face was unreadable. Did he know Reiner had seen the gold? Had he been hiding it, or just closing the lid?

The carts turned clumsily about as arrows whistled around them. The crossbowmen returned fire, shooting randomly into the woods until they got under way. Oppenhauer, Matthais and Reiner and their squads fell in behind, but the bandits didn't follow, only stole out after the crossbowmen no longer had their range, to collect their arrows and see to their fallen.

The train of wagons continued on toward Aulschweig with four dead and ten wounded. Reiner rode in silence, oblivious to his men's nervous post-battle chatter. He had discovered where Manfred's missing gold was going, though why it was crossing the border he had no idea. More important was its mere existence. The crate he had seen held enough gold to make a man one of the wealthiest in the Empire. And there were two of them, tucked amidst the rest of the cargo. Two fortunes. More than even Karl-Franz himself might spend in a lifetime.

Reiner smiled. He wasn't greedy. He didn't want them both. He needed only one. One would be more than enough to pay a sorcerer to remove the poison from the Blackhearts' blood - to buy their freedom.

The only question now was, how did he get it?

SEVEN

A Man of Vision

The castle of Baron Caspar Tzetchka-Koloman sat hunched above the fertile Aulschweig valley like a wolf looking down at a henhouse. It had been built to guard the mouth of the pass from the Empire, when in the wild days of long ago there had been danger of invasion from that quarter - a small, but sturdily built keep that seemed to grow out of the crags that surrounded it. The valley below was like a dream of how the Empire might have been, if not for so many years of war - a bright green jewel of wheat fields not yet ripe and orchards of apple, pear and walnut. Tiny stone and shingle villages nestled in the gentle folds of the land, the spires of their country shrines sticking up above pine spinneys.

Baron Caspar was a restless young man a few years older than Reiner, but a child in temperament. A pale, sharp-faced fellow with jet black hair and dark eyes, he twitched and squirmed in his seat all through the generous dinner he laid before his guests in the high, banner-hung hall of his chilly keep.

'So General Gutzmann is well?' he asked as he mashed peas onto the back of his fork with his dagger. He spoke Imperial with a lilting mountain accent.

'Very well, my lord.' said Oppenhauer between mouthfuls. 'And your brother, Prince Leopold? He is in good health?'

'Oh, fine, fine. Never better, last I heard. Though it's precious little news I get here on the edge of nowhere. From my brother, or General Gutzmann.' He stabbed his meat with more force than necessary.

Oppenhauer spread his hands. 'Are we not here, my lord? Did we not bring the mining supplies you requested? Did I not convey the general's heartfelt greetings?'

'Yes, but no news. No answer.'

Oppenhauer coughed and shot a look at Reiner. 'Let's not spoil a good meal with matters of state, shall we? When we let poor Bohm and Meyerling go back to their men, you and I will speak of other things.'

Caspar pursed his lips. 'Very well. Very well.' But Reiner could see his leg jumping under the table as he bounced his foot nervously up and down.

Reiner waited for Oppenhauer or Matthais to make polite conversation. When they didn't, he cleared his throat. 'So, baron, your mining goes well?'

Oppenhauer and Matthais froze, forks halfway to their mouths.

Caspar looked up at Reiner sharply, then snorted. 'Ha! Yes. My mining goes well, indeed. We have been able to recruit many more men for the work, and with your new shipment of supplies we will be able to expand our operations even more. It is a great cure for my enforced idleness here, mining. I am looking forward to the day that I will be able to show my brother the steel we are bringing from that mine.'

Reiner struggled to keep his face straight. Steel from a tin mine. Interesting.

When the meal came to an end, Matthais invited Reiner to join him and his men in Caspar's guardroom for a game of trumps, but though the temptation to shear these yearling lambs of their golden fleece was strong, Reiner instead pleaded weariness and an upset stomach and retired to his room. He did not, however, stay there long.

Caspar and Oppenhauer had taken their after-dinner schnapps to the library to discuss 'matters of state' by the fire. Reiner wanted to hear that conversation, and so as soon as the footman who had guided him to his room had departed, Reiner stepped back into the corridor and began making his way back to the lower floors. The castle was nearly deserted. Caspar had no wife or children, and only a few knights lived there with him - and those were playing cards with Matthais - so reaching the library meant only avoiding a few servants. Finding a way to hear what went on behind the thick carved-oak door was another matter.

He pressed his ear to the wood, but heard nothing but a low murmur and the roar of the fire. Perhaps there was a balcony window he could listen at if he could get outside. He crept to the next door along the hallway and listened. He thought he could still hear fire, but there were no voices, so he risked opening it.

There was indeed a fire, tightly penned inside an iron grate, and Reiner hesitated momentarily, fearing that the room was occupied after all. But though numerous eyes glittered back at him, they were in the heads of a silent jury of hunting trophies that stared accusingly at him from the walls. Deer, elk, bear, wolf and boar all were represented.

Reiner gave them a mock bow as he closed the door behind him. 'As you were, gentlemen.'

He crossed to tall, velvet-draped windows on the far side of the room and opened one. There was no balcony, only an iron railing to keep one from pitching headlong down the cliffside the castle was built upon. Reiner leaned out and looked to his right, towards the library. There were similar windows there. An agile man, with nerves of steel, might possibly climb over the railing, edge along the narrow ledge that ran between the windows, cling to the library window and listen. But even then he might not hear anything. The windows were tightly closed against the night's chill and the heavy curtains drawn. Still, this was the sort of conversation that Manfred would most want him to overhear. Reiner looked down the cliff, where jagged rocks poked up at him. He swallowed.

With a shrug that hid a shiver, he swung his leg over the railing. A booming laugh erupted behind him. He flinched and almost lost his footing. He looked back. He could have sworn the laugh had come from within the room. Another laugh burst forth, and this time he pin-pointed its source. The fireplace.

Reiner pulled his leg back over the railing and closed the window, then stepped quietly toward the fireplace. Muffled voices came from it. He peered into it, and was surprised to find that beyond the flames, he could see into the library. In fact he could make out Caspars booted feet tapping nervously as he sat in a high-backed leather chair. Reiner had seen such fireplaces before, cleverly constructed to warm two rooms at once, but in intrigue-riddled Altdorf, where privacy was at a premium, most of them had been bricked up.

'But when?' came Caspar's voice. 'Why won't you tell me when?'

Reiner leaned in as close as he dared. The heat from the fire was intense, and its roar nearly drowned out all other sound, but if he held his breath he could hear Oppenhauer's rumbling reply.

'Soon, my lord,' the obercaptain said. 'We have just recruited the last men we need, but it will take some while to train them, and to discover which are sympathetic to our aims.'

'But curse it, I'm ready now! I tire of this waiting. Rusting here in the wilderness while Leopold sleeps through his reign. To think what could be made of this land if there was a man of vision on the throne!' He slapped the arm of his chair with his palm.

'It will happen,' said Oppenhauer. 'Never fear.'

Reiner leaned in closer as the obercaptain's words got lost in the crackling of the fire. His cheek felt aflame. His left eye was as dry as paper.

'The general is as eager as you, my lord. You know his history. He too has had his ambitions thwarted. Wait only a little longer and you and he will sweep your sleeping brother from his throne and place you upon it instead. Then with you as king and Gutzmann as the commander of your armies, Aulschweig will become all you want it to be. The other border princes will fall before your might, and you will unite the Black Mountains into one great nation. A nation that might one day rival the Empire itself.'

'Yes!' cried Caspar. 'That is my destiny! That is as it will be. But how soon? How soon?'

'Very soon, my lord,' said Oppenhauer. 'Very soon. Two months at the most.'

'Two months! An eternity!'

'Not at all. Not at all. By next month, when I return with more "supplies", I will bring you the general's final plans. And the month after that we will slowly ease our forces into position so that we may spring our trap without losing the element of surprise.'

Reiner stepped back from the fireplace, rubbing his stinging face. So that was the plan. If it were true, then it certainly met Manfred's criteria for 'removing' Gutzmann. Reiner could kill the general and get out of these freezing mountains as soon as they returned to the fort. On the other hand, there were some very good reasons to wait. Some golden reasons.

It was time to have a talk with the old Blackhearts.

EIGHT

Manfred's Noose

In the mining town of Brunn the next night, Reiner strolled into Mother Leibkrug's house of joy like a man coming home. The look of the low ceilinged, dimly lit taproom, with the forms of men and women huddling in its dark corners, the smell of lamp smoke and cheap scent, the sounds of laughing harlots and dice in the cup, were a balm to his soul.

From the time he had left his father's home to attend university in Altdorf, until the day Archaon's invasion had made it impossible for even the least patriotic of Imperial citizens not to answer the call of honour, Reiner had lived his life in brothels such as this. In their salons had he and his friends argued points of philosophy, while bare-bottomed bawds served them beer and fritters. In their boudoirs had he lost his innocence and gained the bittersweet knowledge of lust, love and loss. In their card rooms had he learned and practised his preferred trade, and paid for his lodgings and his tuition with money won from rubes and rustics. He had been away from these hallowed halls so long it nearly brought a tear to his eye to enter them once again.

Franka, however, hesitated on the threshold.

Reiner looked back. 'What's the matter, young Franz? They don't bite unless you ask.'

Franka's eyes darted about the dark room. 'Are you certain you couldn't find a more suitable place to meet?'

'There is none better.' Reiner said. He put an arm around her shoulders. 'A brothel is a place where all soldiers can go, regardless of rank. And a place where one can buy some privacy. Name another place within a hundred leagues that offers as much.'

'I understand. Nevertheless...'

Reiner stopped and turned, a look of amused shock on his face. 'You've never been in a brothel before.'

'Of course not,' said Franka, disgusted. 'I'm a respectable woman.'

'You were. Now you're a soldier. And soldiers and brothels go together like... like swords and sheathes.'

'Don't be vulgar.'

'Beloved, if you removed my vulgarity, there would be precious little left of me.'

As he and Franka crossed to the bar he saw Pavel, Hals and Giano at a table, deep in conversation. He waved, and they rose and joined them.

'Here, barman,' Reiner called. 'I want a private room for me and my lads.'

'Certainly, sir,' said the barman. 'Would you care for company?'

'No, no. Just a bottle of wine for me and beer for the rest. As much as they want.'

'Very good, sir. If you will just follow Gretel.'

A serving girl led the party down a narrow hall and let them into a cramped room with a round table in the centre and grimy tapestries hiding bare-plank walls through which the wind whistled. Two oil lanterns provided more smoke than light and made their eyes water. But there was a brazier for cooking sausages in the middle of the table that kept the room warm. Giano was still arguing with Pavel and Hals as they sat down.

'Is ratmen!' he said. 'I smell their stink!'

Pavel sighed. 'There ain't no ratmen, lad.'

'Something down there,' said Hals. 'That's certain. Plenty of the lads have seen shadows moving where there shouldn't be none. And the boys what pull graveyard duty say the ground shakes under their feet late at night.'

'You see!' said Giano. 'Is ratmen! We must fight!'

'Lads, lads,' said Reiner, holding up his hands. 'It matters not what it is. And with luck we won't have to fight anything. With luck we'll do a quiet month here and be off to Altdorf with enough gold in our kit to win our freedom and be rid of Manfred and his intrigues once and for all.'

All heads turned his way.

'What's this?' asked Hals.

'Is this why you didn't want the others?' asked Pavel.

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'I think I've found our salvation at last.' He leaned forward eagerly. 'Here it is. Gutzmann means to desert to Aulschweig and help Baron Caspar usurp his brother, Prince Leopold, where he will become commander of Caspar's armies.'

'Bold dog,' said Hals, laughing. 'Won't that teach Altdorf to leave its bright sparks at loose ends, hey?'

Pavel nodded. 'Thought it might be some such.'

'What concerns us,' said Reiner, 'is that he helps to fund Caspar's army with regular shipments of gold.' He turned to Pavel. 'I escorted a shipment of it to Aulschweig yesterday, disguised as "mining equipment". And there will be another shipment of "shovels" next month. Which, with some luck, will be ours.'

The others stared at him.

Giano grinned. 'This good plan, hey? I like!'

'Aye,' said Hals. 'I like, too!'

'Free of Manfred's noose at last,' said Pavel.

'But can we do it?' asked Franka.

'Well, it will take some work, that's certain,' said Reiner. 'We can't just cut and run. We'll have to finish the job Manfred's set for us, or he could kill us before we find someone who will take our gold and remove the poison. We'll have to return to Altdorf and pretend...' He paused. Pavel and Hals's faces had fallen. 'What's wrong?'

'We still kill Gutzmann?' asked Pavel slowly.

Reiner nodded. 'Aye. We'll have to.'

Hals grimaced unhappily. 'He's a good man, captain.'

Reiner blinked. 'He's won you over, too? He means to betray the Empire.'

'Ain't that what we mean to do?' asked Pavel.

'We just want to save our own lives. He's leaving our border unguarded and taking his whole garrison with him.'

'Yer starting to sound like Manfred,' grunted Hals.

'None of that.' Reiner sighed. 'Listen, I agree. Gutzmann's better than most. He loves his men, and they love him. But is he worth dying for? For that's your option. If we don't kill Gutzmann, Manfred kills us. It's one or the other.'

Pavel and Hals continued to hesitate. Even Giano was looking glum.

Franka was frowning, thinking it over. 'But what if the poison is a lie? A ruse to keep us tame. What if he never poisoned us at all, only said he did?'

Reiner nodded. 'Aye, I've thought of that as well, and it might be. But since we can't know, we have to act as if it is, don't we?'

'There must be some way we can get away without killing Gutzmann,' said Hals, chewing his lip. 'Yer clever, captain. Cleverest man I know. Y've thunk us out of all sorts of messes, haven't ye?'

'Aye, captain,' said Pavel, brightening. 'Ye'll think of something. Y'always do! There must be some way, hey?'

'Lads, lads, I may be clever, but I'm no sorcerer. I can't just wish it better. I...'

There was a knock on the door. 'Captain Reiner, are you within?'

Reiner and the others froze, hands on their daggers, as the door opened. It was Karel. The new Blackhearts were behind him.

NINE

Is Someone There?

Abel peered over Karel's shoulder. 'You see. Didn't I say they'd snuck away together? They hide things from you, corporal.'

Karel stepped into the room, the new men pushing in around him. 'What is this, captain?' he asked. He looked hurt. 'What is the purpose of this meeting?'

Reiner scowled. 'I don't see what business it is of yours, any of you, how we spend our off hours, but if you must know, we were reminiscing, talking over old times.'

'Without us?' asked Abel accusingly.

Reiner gave him a withering look. 'You weren't there for the old times, Halstieg, that I recall.'

There were a few chuckles at that.

Reiner motioned around the table. 'We five have bonds forged in blood and battle. Do you find it strange that we sometimes seek each other's company?'

Dag pushed Abel angrily. 'Told ye ye were a fool! The captain's a good 'un. He'd not play us false.'

'Easy, Mueller,' said Karel. He inclined his head to Reiner. 'Forgive me, captain. Quartermaster Halstieg said he saw you and the others sneaking away and thought you had a suspicious air about you. I see now he was overstating things.'

'It is suspicious,' insisted Abel. 'They told none of us!'

'And they'd no reason to, boy,' said Gert, laying a heavy arm across Abel's shoulder. 'We ain't their minders. Leave it be. Jawing about old battles is the right and privilege of every soldier.'

Abel shrugged and glared at the ground. 'Aye. Fine. Fine.'

'Not to worry, Halstieg,' said Reiner. 'I don't blame you. We none of us like our situation. Death if Gutzmann discovers our purpose. Death if we fail Manfred. New companions and a proven rogue for a commander. It isn't any wonder we're all wary of each other, but if we start fighting amongst ourselves, we're lost before we're begun.' Reiner tipped back in his chair. 'I, for one, want to survive this little job, and the only way to do it is to stick together. Agreed?'

He looked around at the others, questioning.

The men all grunted their ascent, though not all of them wholeheartedly.

Reiner nodded and sat forward. 'Good. Now that's settled, and since we suddenly find ourselves all together, I've a bit of news to share with you all.'

All eyes turned to him.

'Some of you won't like to hear it,' he continued, 'but I've the proof Manfred wanted that Gutzmann is planning to leave the Empire with his men. Which means we must kill him.'

The new men took the news silently, but Reiner saw a few hard looks among them, and Hals stared at the table top, fists clenched.

'I know,' said Reiner. 'He's a fine leader, but he's also a traitor. He plans to help Baron Caspar of Aulschweig snatch the throne from his brother, Prince Leopold, and then accept the post of commander of his armies.'

Karel's jaw dropped. 'By the holy hammer of Sigmar!'

Reiner nodded. 'So we've a job to do.'

'A dirty job,' muttered Hals.

'Yes,' said Reiner, giving him a look. 'A job for blackhearts, to be precise.' He looked up at the others. 'But worry not. Your warm berths are safe for the moment. It will take some time to work out the how and when and where of it. It must look like an accident, and I for one want to be able to walk away if it goes awry. So it will be a month or more before we're ready to begin.'

Reiner pushed back his chair. 'In the meanwhile, I ask you to continue watching and listening. I want to know more of who hates whom, who sides with whom. It may be the key to our puzzle. Report back to me as you can, and be ready to move on the moment. But tonight...' He stood, smirking, and fished in his belt pouch. 'I still have a little of Manfred's travelling money left, and we are in a knocking shop.' He began flipping gold coins at each of them. 'Let us live while we can. Enjoy the night, lads. I know I will.'

The men caught the coins, grinning - at least most of them did. Jergen plucked his out of the air without a change of expression, and turned to the door while the others were still thanking Reiner and making dirty jokes.

As they began filing out into the hall, Reiner put a hand on Franka's shoulder. She looked back. He motioned for her to wait.

When the rest had left, Reiner whispered in her ear. 'We could easily be alone here. Truly alone.'

'For what purpose, besides the obvious?'

'Why, merely to be alone. To enjoy each other's company uninterrupted. To talk, to hold hands...'

'To take advantage of my weak nature,' Franka said, wryly.

'Beloved, I assure you...'

'Don't,' she said sharply. 'Make no promises you cannot keep. I don't want to be disappointed in you.'

Reiner sighed. 'So you won't?'

Franka hesitated, then sighed in turn. 'I know I am a fool, but... I will.'

Reiner pulled her to him for a quick hug.

'Do you start already?' she asked, laughing and holding him away.

'No, no, my love,' said Reiner. 'Mere exuberance.' He looked toward the door, then leaned in to her. 'Now, this is what we will do.'

After drinking for a short time with the others in the taproom, Reiner approached Mother Leibkrug and hired a girl, as both Hals and Abel had done before him. But unlike them, when he got his girl upstairs, he dismissed her, tipping her lavishly and telling her that he was meeting a secret lover there and only needed the room. Happy to make twice her usual fee, the girl agreed to closet herself above stairs for a while so that all would think she was still with Reiner.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Reiner opened it cautiously, but when he saw that it was Franka, alone, he pulled her in and held her close. They kissed for a long moment, then Franka pulled away with a sigh.

She straightened her jerkin. 'So,' she coughed, 'conversation?'

'Er, yes, of course. Conversation.' Reiner turned and flopped down on the ridiculously ruffled and beribboned bed. Like all the furniture, it was too big, too elaborate, for the tiny, shabby room - the overstuffed chaise, the wildly curved and carved vanity with the flaking gold paint, the voluminous curtains over rickety windows, the armoire so pregnant with clothes the doors couldn't close.

Franka didn't seem inclined to sit. She paced the room, examining the frilly furnishings and fidgeting. There was a blonde wig on a wig stand. She stroked it absently.

'So what do we talk about?' asked Reiner after a long silence.

Franka shrugged, then chuckled. 'Strange, isn't it? Now that we are free to talk, we're at a loss.'

Reiner tucked a pillow under his head. 'That's because you don't allow me my favourite topic.'

Franka laughed and pulled the wig off the stand. 'Seduction? Are you so limited?' She sat at the vanity. She lowered her head and pulled the wig on, then flipped it back. 'And you claim to be a man of the world.' She turned to him, looking though the blonde tresses. 'Go on. Speak to me of poetry, art. Or, what was your subject at university? Literature?'

Reiner gaped, open-mouthed, at her. 'You're... you're beautiful.'

'Am I?' Franka looked over her shoulder at the mirror, a cracked, poorly silvered glass. She smoothed the wig. 'It looks strange to me now. I have become so used to living as a boy.' She looked up at his reflection. 'Do you like me better like this?'

'Better?' Reiner blinked, transfixed. 'Er, I wouldn't say better. But it makes a change.' He sat up for a closer look. 'A very nice change.'

Franka began searching through the harlot's powders and paints. She found some rouge and smoothed it into her cheeks, then applied a thicker coat to her lips. She looked up at the glass from under her lashes. 'You aren't speaking. I thought you were going to declaim about literature.'

Reiner swallowed. 'You are being disingenuous, you little wench. You tell me we mustn't touch. That you are weak and I mustn't tempt you, but you are tempting me! Deliberately!'

Franka looked down, blushing behind her rouge. 'I suppose I am. And I apologize. It's just that... that it has been so long since I have looked like this. Since I have been able to flirt and be pretty.' She turned to face him. 'It is hard to resist.'

Reiner licked his lips. 'It certainly is. Try on a dress.'

Franka raised an eyebrow. 'And have you accuse me of provocation?'

'I don't care. I want to see it.'

Franka smiled. 'Are you sure it won't act like a red rag to a bull? Are you sure you won't go mad?'

'I... I will be a perfect gentleman.'

Franka laughed and stood. 'That will be interesting. I have never met one before.'

She crossed to the bursting armoire and began sorting through the dresses. She stopped at a deep green one - not as clean as it might have been, and a little frayed at the hem and cuffs, but well cut. She pulled it out and unlaced the stays at the back, then threw the whole thing over her head and tried to tug it down around herself.

'Help me,' she said with a muffled laugh.

Reiner sprung from the bed and began tugging and straightening. 'My lady is used to a lady's maid?'

'My lady is used to doublet and breeks,' said Franka as her head popped out. 'And has forgotten the intricacies.' Her wig was askew. She straightened it, and began pulling the dress into place.

Reiner laughed. 'And I'm afraid I have more experience getting women out of dresses than into them.'

Franka's smile froze, then fell. 'You needn't remind me.'

Reiner's heart lurched. He went down on one knee and took her hand. 'Lady, forgive me. You see I am as confused as you are. I forget if I speak to Franz or Franka. I will not mention it again.' He kissed her fingers.

Franka laughed and ruffled his hair. 'Forget it, captain. I have no illusions about your past. I don't love you for your virtue. Now stand and tell me how I look.'

Reiner stood and stepped back. The illusion wasn't perfect. Her jerkin and man's shirt stuck up above the low cut collar of the green dress. But in all other respects Franka had become the woman she truly was.

Reiner stepped forward. His arms encircled her waist. 'You are beautiful. Heartbreakingly so. When we are free of our chains, I shall buy you a hundred such dresses, each more lovely than the last.'

Franka giggled and bumped her head against his chest. 'A hundred dresses? Do I want so much trouble and fuss? I think perhaps I've grown used to my breeches.'

Reiner pulled her wig off and kissed the back of her neck. 'As have I. I like knowing there's a woman inside them. I like knowing your secret.'

Franka purred. 'Do you?'

'I do. In fact, it maddens me!' Reiner crushed her to him. Their lips met, then their tongues. Franka's hands ran down his back.

There was a scratching from the window. They leapt apart, afraid they were spied on. Reiner's heart thudded. If they were caught, explanations would be difficult.

'Is someone there?' asked Franka.

Reiner stepped closer, hand on his dagger. 'I see nothing. Just mice, I suppose.' He turned back to Franka. 'Where were we?'

Franka smiled sadly. 'A place we should not have come to, and to which it would be better not to return...'

The window flew open, knocking the curtains to the floor, and figures in dark robes, with burlap sacks over their heads, dived in with inhuman agility. There were at least six of them, though Reiner found it hard to count, they moved so quickly.

'What's this?' Reiner cried, backing away and drawing his sword and dagger.

Franka reached for her weapons as well, but they were trapped beneath the dress. She rucked at her skirts in frustration. The intruders swarmed her, ignoring Reiner in order to grab her arms and legs.

'Reiner!' she screamed.

'Unhand her!' Reiner kicked one and jerked another back by the collar. They were small men, not much taller than Franka, and Reiner was surprised at how easily he booted and threw them across the room. But he was even more surprised by how quickly they sprang up again, seeming to bounce rather than fall, and turning on him with feral snarls.

Franka clubbed one of her captors with the wig stand and kicked another in the head. The man fell back, upsetting the chair, and crashed to the floor. But the other two continued to drag her towards the window.

'Reiner, help me!'

'I'm trying...'

The two Reiner had knocked down attacked him, and another joined them, daggers like curved fangs in their tiny hands. He blocked and parried desperately. They were blindingly fast. And their smell was an attack of its own. The reek was overwhelming. Perhaps it came from the filthy fur shirts they wore under their robes.

Reiner backed away, bleeding from a handful of cuts, and tripped over the chamber pot, left by the door. He kicked it at his attackers. They ducked, and the tin pot smashed the vanity mirror behind them. Glass shards rained to the ground.

One of the robed figures looked back at the noise, and Reiner ran him through. He fell, hissing. The others only pressed Reiner all the harder. Their thrusts rang off his sabre like clanging bells.

'No, you little daemons!' Franka shrieked. 'Let me go!'

Reiner risked a look her way and saw three of the men trying to drag Franka out of the window. She grabbed one by the burlap mask and pulled it askew so that the eye-holes were on the side of his head. The villain let go and fumbled at the sack, blinded.

'Franka!'

Reiner threw his dagger as Franka looked up. It stuck, point first, into the window frame beside her. With a grateful look, she snatched it up and began stabbing indiscriminately at all who held her. They fell away, shrieking thinly.

Suddenly the door slammed open and Hals shouldered in, bare to the waist and dagger drawn. 'What's all the noise?' he bellowed.

Abel and a few other half-dressed brothel patrons stood behind him, harlots peering over their shoulders.

A robed man launched himself at Hals and the pikeman defended himself. Reiner called to the men in the hall as he fought. 'Hurry! Stop them! They're trying to take...' His voice fell off as he remembered who the attackers were trying to take, and how she looked. And as if to confirm his fears, he saw Hals goggling at Franka in her dress. He almost took a curved dagger in the belly before he recovered and returned to the business at hand.

No one else entered the room. Abel backed out, wide-eyed. 'I... I shall protect the women!'

But it seemed the three Blackhearts wouldn't need the help. Hals clubbed his man to the ground with a fist. Reiner kicked his back with a well placed boot, and they were advancing on those grabbing at Franka when one of them looked around, then drew something from its sleeve and threw it at the ground.

Reiner got the briefest glimpse of it before it smashed on the bare floorboards - a small glass ball. But then great billows of smoke erupted from the shards and the room was quickly filled with an impenetrable, acrid cloud that had them choking and their eyes tearing.

Reiner threw an arm over his face. It did no good. He heard scrabbling at the window. 'They're retreating!' he shouted, and stumbled forward, blind.

'Come back, y'wee villains!' coughed Hals.

But at that moment there was a piercing scream from the hallway and Hals stopped so suddenly Reiner bumped into him. 'My girl!' cried the pikeman. 'They're taking Griga!'

He charged back out of the door.

Reiner followed. 'Franz! Hurry!' he called over his shoulders. 'I want to talk to one of these assassins.'

'I'll protect the women,' said Abel again as they ran past him.

Hals and Reiner burst into another dingy boudoir, but they were too late. The window was open, frilly curtains blowing in the breeze, and the rumpled bed was empty. Reiner looked up as he heard feet scritching across the roof above.

'Hals,' he said, turning back to the door, 'you and Abel go up from this window, Franz and I will...' He stopped. Franka wasn't there. He grunted. But of course not. She was still in her dress. She wouldn't have dared join them. Unless...

Reiner swallowed.

He started back down the hall, terror dragging at his guts. 'Franka?' he called. 'Franka?'

Hals followed behind him, and they entered Reiner's room together. The smoke had thinned enough to see that the room was empty, but for the corpse of one of the mysterious attackers. Franka wasn't there.

'Sigmar,' hissed Hals. 'Look at his hands!'

Reiner glanced down at the body as he ran to the window. What he had thought a fur shirt looked now like furry arms, and the hands at the ends of them were scaly, long-fingered claws. But even this unsettling curiosity couldn't distract Reiner from his fear. There was a scrap of deep green velvet caught on a nail in the window sill. He stuck his head out. 'Franka!' There was no response. He climbed out onto the shingled roof, from which rose the second storey, and began pulling himself up the stone wall.

'Who the devil is Franka?' grunted Hals as he ducked out after Reiner.

'Franz, I meant,' said Reiner, and then realized he shouldn't have. He should have said that Franka was the name of his whore, and he was afraid she was taken. Now Hals would associate the names Franka and Franz, and likely draw unfortunate conclusions. But it was too late to call back the words.

He pulled himself up onto the cedar-shingled roof and clambered up the steep slope to the peak. 'Franz!' There was no sign of the robed men, or Franka, or Hals's harlot. He turned in a circle, peering out over the low roofs of Brunn.

'Captain...' said Hals, struggling up the wall.

'There!' said Reiner, pointing. A tangle of shadows slipped around a corner a few blocks away. In the midst of them Reiner had seen a flash of pale flesh. He leapt down to the first floor roof, then slipped and bounced down the shingles on his posterior before pitching over the edge and landing on his ribs on a pyramid of kegs of finest Averheim ale. He slid down this, groaning and wheezing, and ended up sitting in an icy puddle of what he hoped was water.

Hals dropped down beside him in a more controlled fashion. 'Captain...'

Reiner staggered up. 'No time. We can't let them get away.' He ran for the street in a half crouch, clutching his bruised ribs and limping. As they came around the front of the brothel they were met by men and harlots spilling out of the door, including Pavel, Giano, Dag, Abel and Gert. Only Jergen and Karel were absent.

Reiner waved to them. 'Follow us, lads. They've got Fra... Franz!'

Reiner started off as quick as his laboured breathing would allow, Hals at his side, in the direction the robed men had gone.

As they wound through the streets, Hals coughed uncomfortably. 'Er, captain...'

'I know, Hals. I know,' Reiner interrupted, thinking desperately. 'I know what it looked like, but I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. You see, we... er, we meant to play a trick on Karel. The poor boy. I don't think he's ever had a woman, so Franz and I thought it would be a good joke to rile him up a bit. Franz would dress up like a woman, you see, and... and make advances, then, when Karel got all hot and bothered, Franz would pull off his wig and we'd see what shades of crimson young Karel could turn. Amusing, hey?'

'Aye,' said Hals, flatly. 'And did you mean to dress up as well?'

'What?' said Reiner. 'No, of course not. Who in their right mind would ever mistake me for a woman?'

Hals nodded, his face a blank. 'Then you might want to be wiping yer lips. Y've rouge all over 'em.'

TEN

They Were Not Men!

Reiner and the Blackhearts found no trace of Franka, Hals's harlot, or the robed men, though they searched Brunn from end to end. The kidnappers and their prey had disappeared utterly. Even eerier, when the search party returned to the brothel to see if anyone else had seen anything, they found that the corpse with the furry arms was gone, vanished when no one was looking, though patrons and whores had been in and out of the room constantly. The only evidence that the whole incident hadn't been some mad fever dream was a small glass ball that Reiner spied under a chair. It looked like the one that had filled the room with smoke, but this one was unbroken, and churned within with a greenish murk. Reiner pocketed it. Combined with the vision of the robed man's clawed hand, it began to stir memories of things he had read in forbidden books while at university.

He stepped out of the brothel and joined the other Blackhearts, who were huddled in a circle before the door.

'We must return to the fort at once,' he said. 'I want to tell Gutzmann of Franz's kidnapping and the new evidence we have about the disappearances.'

It was obvious to Reiner that Abel had told the others all he had seen when he and Hals had burst in on Reiner and Franka, for none of them would meet his eye, and they answered him with surly grunts and mumbles.

Reiner cursed inwardly all the long cold walk back to the fort. Foolishness on top of tragedy. Just when he needed them most, when the life of one of their number was in deadly peril, his men had become suspicious, nearly mutinous. The maddening thing was that if he could tell them the truth all would be well again - at least with him. Things would be much worse for Franka. Only Reiner and Manfred knew the girl's true sex. If it were revealed to anyone else, her usefulness as a soldier would be over, and the count might have her killed. And this didn't take into consideration the reactions of her comrades. Franka loved Hals, Pavel and Giano like brothers. If they turned their backs on her, it would break her heart.

Reiner demanded to see Gutzmann as soon as they returned to the camp, but the general was sleeping, and so Reiner must go up the chain of command, telling his story first to Captain Vortmunder, then to Obercaptain Oppenhauer, both of whom would have dismissed his story out of hand if not for the corroboration of his fellows and the strange glass orb. At last, and very reluctantly, they brought him to Commander Shaeder, who was called from his bed, yawning and cross.

'What is such an emergency that you must wake me at this ungodly hour?' the commander asked as he sat down behind his desk, wrapped in a heavy robe. Vortmunder and Oppenhauer stood on either side of Reiner looking nervous.

'My lord,' said Reiner, bowing. 'Forgive me, but a soldier has been kidnapped, and I fear there are inhuman agents involved that might be a danger to the fort and the Empire.'

Shaeder pinched the bridge of his nose and waved a weary hand. 'Very well, captain, tell your tale.'

Reiner clicked his heels together. 'Thank you, commander. Er, earlier this evening, I and some others, including my valet, Franz, were entertaining ourselves in Brunn....'

'Whoring and drinking, you mean.'

'I was indeed visiting with a young lady, commander,' Said Reiner. 'But before any, er, business had occurred, the window flew open and we were attacked by men in masks and robes. My valet, Franz, hearing my calls, ran to my aid, and we fought the men. Patrons of the house came at the noise and helped, but just as we were on the brink of victory the men threw some sort of grenade and we were choked by thick smoke.'

Reiner thought he saw Shaeder frown at this, but the tic was gone before he could be sure.

'When the smoke cleared,' Reiner continued, 'the men were gone, as was Franz.' He coughed. 'One of the ladies of the house was taken as well.'

'Most distressing, certainly,' said Shaeder, though he didn't look distressed. 'But in what way is a kidnapping in a brothel a danger to the Empire?'

'I was coming to that, sir,' said Reiner quickly. 'One of the masked men was killed in the fight, and I was shocked to see that his hands weren't hands at all, but claws. Like those of a rat. And his arms...'

'A rat?' Shaeder guffawed. 'A rat did you say? The size of a man?'

'A little smaller, sir. He...'

'Do you mean to suggest that you were attacked by, what do the old women call them? By ratkin? By wives' tales made flesh?' He turned to glare at Oppenhauer and Vortmunder. 'What do you mean bringing this nonsense before me? Are you mad?'

'His story was seconded by several others, commander,' sad Oppenhauer. 'And he has evidence.'

'Evidence?' asked Shaeder. 'What evidence?'

Something in the commander's voice made Reiner reluctant to bring the orb out of his pouch, but there was nothing for it. Shaeder wouldn't be convinced without it. Reiner took out the glass ball and placed it on his desk.

'What is this?' asked the commander, picking it up with reluctant fingers.

'One of the smoke grenades, my lord,' said Reiner. 'The ratmen threw one at the floor and smoke poured out of it when it shattered.'

Shaeder scowled. 'This is a grenade?' He looked up at Oppenhauer. 'You let him convince you this was a grenade? This bauble from a harlot's dress?' He set it on a stack of parchment. 'A paperweight, perhaps.'

'Commander.' said Reiner, getting angry. 'I fought them hand to hand. They were not men!'

'And how do you know? Did you look under their masks? You had a body, did you not? Why are you showing me a marble instead of a body?'

'Er.' Reiner flushed. 'We left the body behind while in pursuit of the others, who were getting away with Franz. When we returned to the brothel again, it... it was gone.'

'Gone?'

'Aye, sir.'

Shaeder paused for a long moment. It seemed almost that he relaxed. Then abruptly he burst out laughing, a loud, derisive bray that had him wiping his eyes. When he had recovered himself he waved a hand at Reiner. 'Go to bed, corporal.'

'Beg pardon?' said Reiner, confused.

'Go to bed, sir. Sleep it off.'

Reiner pulled himself up, indignant. 'You don't believe me sir?'

'I believe that you are one of those remarkable rascals who shows no outward sign of inebriation while being completely pie-eyed drunk.'

'Commander,' Reiner protested. 'I am telling the...'

'I'm sure something happened,' Shaeder interrupted. 'A brawl, perhaps even a kidnapping. Y've wounds enough. But it's just as likely you fought your reflection in some whore's mirror and cut yourself on the glass. Whatever happened, I will not muster the Emperor's might to rescue some Altdorf dandy's valet, no matter how well he polishes your boots. If the boy doesn't show up in the morning, I will assign a detail to look for him in the gutters of Brunn, but until then, I'm for bed, as you should be.'

Reiner balled his fists. 'Commander, I do not think this is a threat that should be ignored. I demand to see General Gutzmann. I demand to put my case before him.'

'You demand, do you?' asked Shaeder. 'The next thing you demand will be a week in the brig for insubordination. Now go to bed, sir. I am through with you.' He turned to Vortmunder and Oppenhauer. 'And in the future, you will think twice before waking me with such foolishness.'

'Aye, commander,' said Oppenhauer, saluting. 'Thank you, sir.'

He and Vortmunder turned with Reiner between them. Oppenhauer gave Reiner a sympathetic shrug as they walked out the door.

'I believed you, lad,' he said.

Reiner didn't sleep that night. All he wanted to do was ride out in search of Franka, but searching in the dark would have been fruitless, particularly on his own, particularly if Franka had been taken where he suspected she had. When dawn finally came, he reported again to Shaeder, begging to be allowed to join the search detail the commander was sending out, but he had refused, telling Reiner to leave the search to men who better knew the town and the pass.

Reiner couldn't leave it at that. Shaeder's men wouldn't find Franka. They wouldn't look in the right place. And so, though he knew it might compromise Manfred's mission to do so, he had failed to report to Vortmunder for his morning duties, and instead sent word through Hals to the others to meet him behind the parade ground stands where they had watched Gutzmann tent-pegging on the first day. This mass dereliction of duty was sure to arouse comment, but the alternative was to leave Franka to her fate, and that was no alternative at all.

As the men arrived, slouching up in ones and twos, Reiner knew he was in trouble. The suspicion of the previous night hadn't cleared. In fact it seemed to have grown deeper. Their faces were closed and grim. Even Karel looked troubled.

'Here it is,' he said when they'd all gathered in the shadow of the viewing stand. 'I've turned it over in my mind and I believe I know where Franz was taken.' He nodded at Giano. 'As much as we've ribbed our Tilean friend for smelling ratmen under every rock and cellar floor, I think this time he's right. Hals and Abel, you saw the body in the brothel last night. I can find no way to deny its nature. Can you?'

Abel said nothing.

Hals shrugged. 'Not sure what I saw now.'

Reiner groaned. That didn't bode well. 'Well, what of the glass orb? Every fairy tale I've ever heard of ratkin speaks of them using bizarre weapons. What of the stories the miners have been telling about men disappearing? And Giano smelling them in the tunnels?'

Giano's eyes glowed. 'You believe now?'

'I don't know what I believe,' said Reiner. 'But be it ratmen or some other horror, I think something lurks in the mine, and I mean to go down and look for Franz.'

There was a silence. Abel broke it.

'To look for your beloved, you mean.'

Reiner's head snapped up. 'What do you say?'

'Shut yer trap, y'clod,' growled Hals.

'You speakin' ill of the captain?' asked Dag, menacingly.

Karel glared at the man. 'You are out of order, quartermaster.'

Abel looked at them disbelievingly. 'Do you still have loyalty to this... this invert? How can you trust him when he's been hiding his true nature from you all this time?'

The Blackhearts looked at the ground, uncomfortable.

Abel sneered. 'You saw him last night, with red all over his mouth. We all did. He'd been kissing his "boot boy".'

'Enough, Halstieg!' cried Karel. He looked to Reiner pleadingly. 'Captain. Tell them they're mistaken!'

Pavel shifted uncomfortably. 'Captain's a good leader. He ain't led us wrong.'

'Hasn't he?' asked Abel. 'Are you happy to be walking around with poison in your veins? Dancing at the mercy of some cagey jagger. Who led you to that?'

There was a simmering silence.

'Listen...' said Reiner, but Abel cut him off again.

'And he certainly ain't leading you right this time; thinking with his stem instead of his head, asking us to go into some dirty hole that'll most likely cave in on us. For the good of the mission? Because it will get us home quicker? No. It hasn't anything to do with what we came here to do. He's afraid for the life of his precious catamite, and he'll lead us all to our deaths to save him.'

'Enough!' barked Reiner. 'I'll not waste time arguing and explaining. I am afraid for Franz, as I would be for any of you.' He shot a glance at Abel. 'Even you, quartermaster. And I want to try to find him before he comes to harm. As I would with any of you.' He shrugged. 'I won't order you. I never have. But I'm going down there whether or not you accompany me.' He stood and shouldered the pack of pitch torches he'd gathered. 'Who's with me?'

'I!' said Giano immediately. 'I want all my life to be fighting ratmens.' He stepped to Reiner's side.

The rest didn't move. Reiner looked from one to the other. They hung their heads. He sighed. He hadn't expected the new men to come with him. They hadn't fought through the bowels of the Middle Mountains with him. They hadn't faced down Valnir's Bane and Albrecht's mindless army by his side. But when Hals and Pavel wouldn't meet his eyes it felt as if some giant crushed his heart in his hands.

'Sorry, captain,' said Gert.

Dag muttered something under his breath.

Karel hung his head. 'It isn't part of our mission, captain.'

Reiner shrugged, then glared at Abel. 'The poison with which Manfred cursed us is naught compared with that which you wield.' He turned toward the pass road. 'Come, Giano. Let's be off.'

As Reiner and Giano walked north toward the mine in the cold morning light, Giano jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'Fella want you job, I thinking.'

And he might get it, thought Reiner, nodding. A tricksy cove, Halstieg. A way with words when he wanted, and a streak of ambition that one might miss at first glance. And no heart at all. Reiner was certain Abel cared not a whit if he loved men, women or goats. He only used the issue to drive a wedge between him and the others, so that he might step in and lead them. The quartermaster was smart enough to know that his survival depended on pleasing Manfred, and if that meant betraying Reiner and proving he was the better man, so be it.

The mine was as busy as ever, and Reiner and Giano had little trouble in wandering through all the chaos to the closed tunnel. The first hundred feet or so were still open, and were used as a storage area for cartwheels and rail ties and supplies. Reiner and Giano wound around the clutter until they came to the barricade, a wall of planks and cross braces that reached from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. It was dark this far from the entrance. Reiner pulled a torch from his pack and lit it from his tinder box. He and Giano examined the wall. A rough door had been cut in it, locked with an enormous iron padlock.

'Can you pick?' asked Giano.

'I'm afraid not. My burglars tools are cards and dice.' He began pushing on the planks around the door. 'But I don't think we'll have to.'

'Hey? For why?'

'Well,' said Reiner, as he walked down the wall. 'If the ratmen are in there, and they come out through here, then they wouldn't use a door that locked on this side, you see?'

'Ah! Si. Captain damn smart.'

'Or perhaps not,' grumbled Reiner as he reached the end of the wall without finding a board that gave. He started back along the wall, looking at the boards once again. There had to be something. He couldn't allow himself to believe he was wrong. The ratmen had to be here.

He stopped, frowning. The left edge of one of the boards was grimier than the rest. He reached out and touched the grime. It was oily. He sniffed his finger. It reeked with an animal stench - the same stench the robed men had given off. Reiner's heart jumped. He took another step down the wall. The next plank was clean, but the one after that had corresponding grime on its right edge. He stepped back. Filthy fur pushing through a narrow opening would leave just such marks.

He pointed to the plank between the begrimed planks. 'This one.' He pushed on it. It didn't move. But of course not. It would push from the other side. He looked for some way to pull it. There was no handle, or string. But there was a hole - a knot hole near the floor.

Reiner stuck his finger in the hole. It was greasy as well. He pulled. The board came up easily, revealing utter blackness.

Giano grinned. 'Knock, knock, hey?'

Reiner swallowed. 'Aye. Er, after you.'

Giano ducked eagerly through the gap. Reiner followed more cautiously, sticking his torch through first, then squeezing in afterwards. The board banged down behind him. Inside was a bit of an anticlimax. It looked exactly like the outside - a high, wide tunnel sloping away into darkness.

'No sign of a cave-in,' said Reiner.

'Maybe further down.'

'Or maybe not at all.'

They started down the tunnel, travelling in a small sphere of light through a universe of black. A hundred yards on, they almost tripped over two small crates piled against one wall. Reiner held the torch low. The crates looked familiar.

'What is?' asked Giano.

Reiner snorted. '"Mining tools".'

As they continued on, Reiner's heart thudded with excitement. Now they need not wait for the next shipment to Aulschweig. They could kill Gutzmann whenever they wanted and take the gold from here instead - a much easier proposition than stealing it en route. This was excellent news - at least it would be if Franka still lived.

Shortly after that the tunnel stopped at a rough rock face, and for a moment Reiner's heart sank. But then he saw a small opening in the face. It was a tunnel so narrow that he and Giano had to walk single file. Ten paces in, Giano stopped suddenly and raised his hand.

'Light,' he said.

Reiner put his torch on the ground behind him and they crept forward.

Three yards further the tunnel opened up into a large space, lit with a wan purple light. Giano peeked out then gasped and flinched back. Reiner followed his gaze and jumped back as well, heart thudding. Looming over them was a monstrous insect the size of a house. Huge sabre-like mandibles jutted from its maw. It took a moment of deep breaths to realize that the insect wasn't moving, wasn't alive, wasn't in fact an insect. It was a giant machine. And it wasn't alone.

Giano and Reiner stepped cautiously into the tunnel, looking up at the four massive metal monstrosities that sat on man-high wooden wheels to the left and right of the narrow hole. A thrill of fear ran through Reiner as he divined their purpose. They were digging machines. Mad, skeletal contraptions of iron, wood, leather and brass. The mandibles were giant steel picks meant to chew at the workface. They were attached by a series of axles, gears and belts to an enormous brass tank, green with corrosion, fitted with all manner of valves and levers. Broad leather belts led from beneath the mandibles to the backs of the contraptions, where strings of wooden mine carts were lined up, ready to take the chewed rock away.

The scale of the enterprise made Reiner's head spin. Not even the Empire built machines this large. What were they digging? Did the ratmen mine gold as well? Was there something else of value in the rock? Or...

It came to him with sudden clarity and dread, and his blood turned to ice in his veins. The ratmen were building a road - a road high enough and wide enough to allow an army to march to the surface. And they were only twenty paces from connecting with the mine tunnel, which was just as high and wide. Their work was almost done.

Giano swallowed. 'This bad, hey?'

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'Bad is a word for it.'

As he and Giano crept around the towering machines, weirdly lit by the pulsing purple light that came from glowing stones set high in the walls, Reiner saw movement in the shadows and jerked his dagger out of its scabbard. Rats - of the small, four-footed variety - swarmed over piles of bones and rubbish that cluttered the floor, ample evidence that this wasn't some long abandoned endeavour. Some of the bones looked human. Reiner moaned in his throat. Were the ratmen kidnapping women for food?

There was a small side passage in the left wall, and more dotted the tunnel on both sides as far as they could see. The openings made Reiner nervous. At any moment a ratman could pop out of one, and then where would they be?

He and Giano started forward, looking warily around. A few moments later, distant structures began to emerge from the gloom. At first Reiner thought they were battlements of some kind - the walls and towers of some underground town - but as they got closer, he saw that they were siege towers, mounted on wheels and laid on their sides. They were surrounded by other giant engines of war, catapults, ballisti, and battering rams.

'Blood of Sigmar,' he breathed. 'They mean to take the fort.'

Giano nodded, wide-eyed.

They crept forward at a snail's pace, hugging the wall and keeping low, and at last reached the jumble of machines, Giano sniffing like a bloodhound. As they came around a prone tower, they saw, further on, an encampment of sorts, though to one used to the regimented order of an Empire camp, it was an offence to the eye. Low structures that looked more like piles of blankets than tents hugged the walls of the tunnel and shadows wormed in and out of them like... well, like rats.

Giano stopped, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was trembling. 'Ratmen!'

'Easy, lad,' said Reiner, as Giano began to draw. 'We ain't here to fight 'em all.'

Giano nodded, but it seemed a supreme act of will for him to return his blade to its scabbard.

As they stepped back behind the tower, an overpowering stench overcame them. They clapped their hands over their noses and looked around. Against one wall was a pile of furred bodies - dead rat men, discarded like old apple cores. There was movement on the pile - the four-legged feeding on the two-legged - and it reeked like a slaughterhouse, an odour equal parts animal filth and diseased death. Some of the bodies were bloated with fat black boils.

Reiner was turning away, nauseous, when he saw a white arm among the mangy limbs. His heart froze, and he stepped, trembling, to the pile, the rats scattering at his approach. Giano followed, covering his mouth with his handkerchief. Reiner reached out toward the arm, then stopped when he saw that it possessed a man's hand, callused and thick. He looked for the rest of the body, and found, half hidden among rotting ratman corpses, and grinning, partially fleshed ratman skulls, the face of a pikeman, his right cheek and temple gnawed away.

'Poor devil,' said Reiner.

Giano made the sign of Shallya.

They returned to their vantage point and surveyed the ratmen's camp. It was not an encouraging sight. The whole place seethed with motion: ratmen darting in and out of the holes in the tunnel walls, ratmen swarming around the tents, ratmen crawling over the line of carts in the centre of the tunnel, loading and unloading spears and halberds and strange brass instruments that Reiner feared were weapons as well, ratmen arguing and fighting.

Giano shook his head. 'How we finding boy in all these?'

'I don't know, lad,' said Reiner. His heart was sinking. He wasn't by nature a coward, but neither was he a fool. He wasn't the sort of stage-play hero who charged a horde of Kurgan armed only with a turnip. He was a follower of Ranald, whose commandments stated that one shouldn't go into any situation without the odds clearly in one's favour. Walking into this mess was a sure way to incur the trickster's wrath.

And yet, Franka was in there somewhere, if she wasn't already some ratman's dinner. And he couldn't just turn around and leave without trying to find her.

'Damn the girl,' he growled.

'Hey?' said Giano, puzzled. 'Girl?'

'Never mind.' Reiner pulled himself up onto the prone siege tower. The view was no better. The ratmen were everywhere at once. No area of the camp was ever vacant long. There was no little-used corridor for Reiner and Giano to sneak down - no catwalk high above. They would be discovered at once, and that would be the end.

Unless...

Reiner looked at the tower he clung to. Its timber frame was stretched over with a patchwork of leather and furs. Reiner blanched when he saw that some of the skins had tattoos, but he couldn't be squeamish now.

'Giano,' he said, drawing his dagger. 'Help me cut down some of these skins. They walked robed among us. We shall walk robed among them.'

Giano obediently started cutting but he looked doubtful. 'The rat, he have damn good smelling, hey? He sniffing us even hiding.'

Reiner groaned. 'Curse it, yes. I'd forgotten. They'll smell us for human in an instant.' He sighed deeply, then nearly choked on the stink of the pile of corpses as he inhaled again. An idea brought his head up and he looked at the pile, eyes shining. 'There could be a way...'

Giano followed his gaze, then moaned. 'Oh, captain, please no. Please.'

'I'm afraid so, lad.'

Behind his pointed leather mask, and beneath his makeshift leather robes, sewn together with lengths of rawhide unwound from binding that held the siege machines together, Reiner's heart beat as rapidly as a hummingbird's. He and Giano were picking their way through the ratmen's camp, tails cut from the ratmen's corpses tied to their belts and dragging behind them, and with every step, retreat became more impossible and discovery more likely. Though they tried to hug the line of carts, where there were the fewest ratmen, still the beasts were all around them, and a mere skin was all that shielded them from their ravenous fury. If he or Giano revealed their hands or feet they were lost, for the ratmen's appendages looked nothing like theirs. If they were challenged they were lost, for the ratmen's speech was a chittering gabble of hisses, chirps and shrieks that Reiner's throat couldn't possibly have reproduced even if he had understood it. Fortunately, the ratmen hardly gave Reiner and Giano a second look - or to be more accurate, a second sniff - for they were covered in an almost visible reek of rat musk and death, and as such, blended in with the general atmosphere of the tunnel.

Over Giano's piteous protestations, Reiner had ordered the Tilean to follow his example and roll like a pig in mud within the pile of corpses. Reluctantly, they had rubbed themselves and their makeshift robes and masks against the oily fur and decaying flesh and diseased wounds of the bodies, and caked their boots and gloves with their excrement. It had been a foul, gut-churning experience, and was continuing to be. Being trapped inside the hooded mask with the stench was like drinking a sewer. If it hadn't been for the distraction of the wonders and horrors he was seeing through his eye-holes, Reiner would undoubtedly have vomited.

There were so many ratmen, so closely packed together - hundreds, perhaps thousands - within his range of vision, it made his head swim. And the camp continued around the curve of the tunnel with no apparent end. They were loathsome creatures, their long, narrow faces covered in filthy, lice-ridden far, their mouths slackly open to reveal great, curving front teeth. But it was their eyes that truly repulsed Reiner - vacant black orbs that glittered like glass. They seemed utterly empty of intelligence. If it hadn't been for the scraps of rusty armour that covered their scrawny limbs, and the earrings that dangled from their tattered ears, and of course the weapons that they carried, Reiner would not have believed them thinking beings.

Their filth was indescribable. They seemed not to have separate places to dispose of their refuse and droppings; instead, they appeared to nest in them. Their tents were filled with bones, rags and filth shaped into crater-like depressions in which they slept. Some of the ratkin appeared to be deathly ill, yellow mucus weeping from their eyes and black lesions covering their scaly hands, but the other ratmen made no effort to avoid their diseased fellows. They shared their food and drink and rubbed past them in the narrow byways of the camp without a second thought. Did they wish to get sick? It came to Reiner with a shudder that perhaps they did. Perhaps disease was only another weapon to them.

Some of the weapons Reiner saw them carrying he couldn't even begin to understand: bizarre pistols and long guns that sprouted weird brass piping and glass reservoirs filled with phosphorescent green liquid. On the carts in the centre of the tunnel larger weapons were stored; great spears that hummed as they passed them, handheld cannon connected by leather hoses to large brass reservoirs.

What Reiner did not see was any sign of Franka, or any humans at all. The camp seemed only tents and carts and rats as far as the eye could see. After walking a few hundred yards into it, Reiner's steps began to slow. It was hopeless, pointless. If the myths of the ratmen were correct, their tunnels ran under the whole wide world. Franka might be halfway to Cathay by now. Or he might have passed her bones in one of the piles of garbage that were heaped everywhere. At last he stopped, overcome. He tapped Giano on the shoulder, and motioned him to turn around, but before the Tilean could respond, Reiner heard, very faintly in the distance, an agonized scream - a human scream!

The men froze, listening with their whole beings. The scream came again. It was behind them, back the way they had come - a cry of terror and unbearable pain. Reiner and Giano turned and hurried back through the camp as quickly as they could, listening for further cries. What a bitter irony, Reiner thought. The screams were so pitiful it made him wish the man who uttered them a quick death, and yet, if he was to find their source the man must cry again and again.

They had almost returned to the edge of the camp before the cry came again, and this time it was words. 'Mercy. Mercy, I beg you!'

Reiner turned. The voice came not from before or behind them, but to one side - from one of the branching passages.

'In the name of Sigmar, have you no...' The voice broke off in a bone chilling shriek. Reiner winced, but at least he had pinpointed the passage. He touched Giano's arm and they moved toward it.

The passage was short and opened up at its far end into a room that glowed brightly with the purple light. It was hard to determine the room's dimensions, for it was so cluttered that Reiner couldn't see the walls. Machines from a poppy eater's nightmare loomed on the left: a thing like a casket surrounded by metal spider's legs, each tipped with a scalpel or pipette, a chair with straps to pinion the arms over which dangled a helmet ringed with sharp screws, a rack that seemed to have been constructed to stretch a creature with more than four limbs, a charcoal brazier that glowed with red heat, a contraption of glass bulbs and tubes through which coloured liquids bubbled and dripped.

On the right, piled up like so many children's blocks, was a jumble of small iron cages, none more than four feet high, but all containing at least one, and sometimes three or four, filthy, dung- and blood-smeared humans. Reiner's heart leapt at this sight - foul as it was - for Franka might be among them. He wanted to run forward and check them all, but he daren't. The room wasn't empty.

In the centre was a tableau Reiner had been avoiding looking at directly, for it was from there that the screams came. Now at last he faced it. There was a table, and a man on the table, shackled to it, though so weak now the fetters were no longer necessary. It was extraordinary to Reiner that the man still lived, for his torso had been laid open like a gutted fish, the skin of his belly pinned back with clips so that his organs were exposed. They shone wetly in the purple light. The fellow had the rough hands and hard-lined face of a miner, but he was begging for mercy in the high whimper of a little girl.

Hovering over him like a cook making a pie was a plump, grey-furred ratman, scalpel and forceps held high in gloved hands. He wore a blood-drenched leather apron with a belt full of steel implements slung at his waist, and a leather band circled his brow, attached to which were articulated arms, all fitted with glass lenses of various thicknesses and colours that could be pulled down in front of the creature's beady black eyes. It already wore thick spectacles, which it balanced on its broad furred snout. It was such a caricature of the short-sighted scholar Reiner might have thought it comic, had it not been for the horrible vivisection it was engaged in.

What made the situation even more horrible was that the ratman was speaking to his victim, and not in the chittering gibberish of his kind, but in high-pitched and broken Reiklander. 'Does read Heidel?' it asked, then tsked sadly when the man didn't respond. 'Wasted. Wasted. You Reik-man. Finest books. Finest lib... lib...' It snarled in frustration. 'Book places! And you no read, no think. Just to drink, to mate, to sleep. Shameful.'

The sound of Giano muttering furiously in Tilean beside him snapped Reiner out of his horrified trance. The crossbowman's hand was reaching for his sword. Reiner touched Giano's arm and pulled him out of the doorway behind the bulk of a great black-iron cauldron. Giano patted his shoulder gratefully, recovering himself.

'Here me,' the rat-surgeon continued, sighing. 'Down below. Book come garbage and sewer. But know I more of out world than it.' He severed some membrane in the man's belly. The miner groaned. The ratman ignored him. 'Does know Volman's Seven Virtue? History of beer-making in Hochland? Poem of Brother Octavio Durst? I know this. And so more. Many more.'

He set his implements aside, pulled a lens in front of one eye, and began to paw through the man's organs with delicate claws.

'This me confuse. Why man? Why man so big? Why win so many battles? Why so brave?' He shook his head. 'First think, maybe man stupid. Too stupid to be scare. But skaven stupid too, and always scare. Run away, all time run. So not that.' He scooped out his victim's intestines with both hands and set them on the table beside him. 'So now think something new. Fix the moulder way! Pinder say brave in spleen. So I try if man with no spleen will scare. Then, I try if skaven with man-spleen will brave. Ah, here is.' He tugged at an organ with one hand, then cut it from its mooring with his scalpel.

The man convulsed and gasped. Blood welled from the cavity of his belly and his hands began to clutch and grasp. The grey ratman tsked again, then tried to stem the flow with a clamp. He was too slow. Before he had successfully applied it, the table was awash with blood and the man lay still and silent.

The rat-surgeon sighed. 'Another. Too bad. Well, we try again.' He raised his voice and chittered over his shoulder. Two brown rats in leather aprons came out of a further room. The surgeon directed them to remove the body and bring another from the cages.

Reiner and Giano watched queasily as the two ratmen piled the man's intestines on his chest and carried him out of the room by his arms and legs as the surgeon swept miscellaneous body parts off the table. Giano was muttering again. Reiner put a hand on his shoulder. The crossbowman lowered his voice but didn't seem to be able to stop cursing.

The ratmen returned and crossed to the stacked cages. The first opened one at random, with a key from a ring on his belt, and pulled out a small figure.

Franka.

ELEVEN

Black Death Take You

Reiner nearly shouted out loud. The poor girl was so battered and dirty that, had he not known her so intimately, he wouldn't have recognized her. The dress she had been taken in was gone, as was much of her uniform. Only her breeks and shirt covered her, and they were shredded and caked with filth. Her face was bruised and blank, and streaked with dirt and blood. She looked around dully, as if she had been sleeping, but when she saw where her captors were taking her, she began to scream and fight, kicking at them and trying to wrench her arms from their grasp.

'Unhand me, you vermin!' she cried.'I'll kill you! I'll cut you to ribbons. I'll...' Her threats dissolved into sobs of fury. The ratmen threw her at the table and she crashed against its metal edge, gasping.

The surgeon chittered angrily at his assistants, motioning for them to hold Franka still while he opened a vial he had taken from a table behind him. 'Quiet, boy. Stop...'

Reiner could take no more, the voice of self-preservation that normally stopped him before he launched himself into deadly danger drowned out by Franka's pitiful moans. He charged forward, screaming inarticulately as he drew his sword. Giano followed, roaring.

The ratmen looked up, startled. Perhaps the hoods Reiner and Giano wore confused them, but for one crucial second they stood frozen, staring. Reiner cut his down before it could pull its cleaver from its belt. Giano evaded the other's wild slash and ran it through the ribs. Franka fell with her dying captors.

The grey-furred surgeon scrabbled backwards, squealing. Reiner leapt after him, but he squirmed behind a giant contraption like one of his four-legged kin. Giano dived to block the back door. The ratman was too swift. He dodged around him and disappeared into the dark hallway beyond. Reiner and Giano gave chase, but the hall quickly split into three curving corridors and they couldn't tell which one he had taken.

Reiner skidded to a stop and turned back. 'Forget him. Let's fly.' He re-entered the room and crossed to Franka, holding out his hand. 'Franz...'

The girl crabbed backward, looking from him to Giano in terror. She snatched up a fallen scalpel and held it before her. 'Back, monsters!'

'Franz?' Then Reiner remembered. He pulled off his mask. 'It's only us.'

Giano pulled his off too. 'See? Nothing to be afraid!'

Franka blinked for a moment, then her face crumpled and she began to sob. The scalpel clattered to the ground. 'I thought... I didn't think... I never...'

'Easy now, easy now,' said Reiner, helping her up and clapping her roughly on the shoulder. 'Be a man, hey? Lad?'

Franka swallowed and sniffed. 'Sorry, captain. Sorry. Forgot myself. You...' she managed a weak grin. 'You certainly took your time.'

'Blame the damned vermin, lad,' said Reiner. What he wanted to do was draw Franka into his arms and hold her, but for Giano's benefit he played at manly heartiness. 'Damned inconsiderate of them, living so far underground. Now...'

'Save us,' said a weak voice.

Reiner, Franka and Giano turned. The men and women in the cages were staring out at them. They were thin, haggard creatures. Some of them had obviously been there for weeks. The skin hung from their bones like wet muslin. Others were hideously deformed, strange growths sprouting from their faces and chests. Still others had extra arms and hands stitched onto them in bizarre places. Reiner groaned. There were at least a dozen of them - probably more. How could he possibly get them all out?

'Please sir.' said a peasant girl with hands like purple mittens. 'We'll die otherwise.'

'You must, captain.' said Franka. 'You've no idea what they do.'

'I saw enough.' said Reiner, swallowing. 'But... but it's impossible. We'd never make it.'

'Y'can't leave us,' said a gaunt miner, gripping the bars. 'Y'can't let 'em have their way with us.'

Faint noises came from the far door: chittering rat-speech and the click of many rat feet.

'They coming,' said Giano.

'Captain.' Franka urged. 'Reiner, please.'

'It's too late. I...' With a growl of frustration, Reiner stepped to one of the dead ratmen and cut a ring of keys from his belt. 'Their weapons.' he said. 'And the scalpels.'

Giano and Franka began stripping the dead ratmen of their cleavers and swords and daggers as Reiner tried a key in a lock. They gathered up all the surgeon's scalpels, chisels and saws as well. The key didn't fit. Reiner tried another. It wouldn't turn.

The rat-voices were getting closer.

Reiner cursed. 'Give them the weapons.' He was sweating.

Franka kept a sword for herself, then helped Giano pass the rest of the blades through the bars to the prisoner's eager hands. Reiner tried another key. Still no luck.

The rat-voices were clear now. Reiner could hear the jingle of weapons and armour.

'Damn damn damn!' He thrust the keys at the man who had spoken first. 'I'm sorry. We must go. Good luck to you.'

'What's this?' said the man, taking the keys by reflex. 'You're leaving?'

Reiner backed to the door, pulling on his mask. 'We must.' He turned to Giano and Franka. 'Hurry.'

'Reiner, you can't...' said Franka.

'Don't be a fool. Do you want to live?'

He pushed her towards the door. She looked like she was going to protest again, then turned on her heel and started into the corridor, her face twisting with emotion. Giano pulled on his mask and followed her.

'Black death take you, you bastards!' cried a woman.

Reiner flinched as he Franka and Giano ran down the narrow corridor to the main tunnel.

'How we take with no face on?' asked Giano, gesturing at Franka.

Reiner closed his eyes. 'Curse me for a fool. Should have made three disguises. Give me a moment to think.'

They stopped just before they reached the tunnel, crouching in the shadow of the opening. They heard cries of rattish dismay behind them as the ratmen found the dead guards.

'No moment left,' said Giano.

'I don't know!'

'Carry me!' said Franka.

'Carry you?' asked Reiner.

'The surgeon sells his mistakes for food. I saw ratmen carry bodies out this way all day.'

'Perfect!' said Reiner. 'Hold tight, lad.' He hoisted Franka over his shoulder like a sack and started into the tunnel. 'And mind you play dead.'

'Or we be dead,' added Giano.

Reiner and Giano crossed quickly to the far side of the tunnel, putting the line of carts between them and the side passage, then hurried for the edge of the camp, hunching low. Before they had got twenty yards they heard their pursuers burst into the tunnel behind them, screeching orders and questions at their brethren. Reiner picked up his pace. Franka bounced slackly on his shoulder. He heard her retch.

'They come,' she whispered. 'Others point the way.'

'Shut up!' Reiner hissed.

He looked back, pulling his mask close with his free hand to see better through his eye-holes. The ratmen were indeed coming; a squad of guards with long spears and steel helms that stretched down their long snouts like horse's barding. They spread out across the width of the tunnel and jogged through the tents and carts, looking high and low - and sniffing.

Reiner pulled Giano around a high mound of garbage, his heart pounding. If the rat-guards had their scent, it didn't matter how well they hid, their sensitive noses would find them.

And just as he thought it, a rat squealed in triumph in the distance. Reiner moaned. The guards had sniffed out their man scent, even under all the rat-filth they had rolled in. It wouldn't be long now. He had to do something to throw them off the trail, to draw their attention. He looked around. The tents and the garbage would make perfect tinder except there was no fire. The rats didn't seem to use it. They ate their meat raw and slept clustered together for warmth, which made sense for a race that lived underground. He considered firing his pistols into one of the wagons loaded with the curious hand cannon and brass tanks, but he had no idea how big a blast they would make, if any.

The ratmen were closing in, following their trail through the camp like dogs after a fox. If Reiner and Giano broke into a run they would be spotted instantly. The sweat was pouring down Reiner's sides. Franka, who had weighed nothing when he picked her up, now felt heavier than an ox. He crossed his fingers and sent a prayer to Ranald. Alright, ye old charlatan, he thought, if ye get me out of this fix I'll trick a thousand men before next I touch wine, and that's a promise.

He dodged around a large tent and tripped over a small, fiercely hot forge, where a ratkin smith was pouring lead into bullet moulds. Reiner swallowed a curse and swerved drastically to avoid crashing into another rat who was busy folding measures of black powder into square gauze packets. Damn fool rats, not enough sense to keep blackpowder away from a...

Reiner stopped dead in his tracks. Giano crashed into him. Franka yelped. Idiot, thought Reiner, cursing himself. His prayer instantaneously answered and he'd nearly dismissed it as an obstacle. He dumped Franka unceremoniously to the ground, whispering, 'Stay dead,' then stepped up to the powder rat. The creature was scooping the powder out of a small wooden cask with what looked like a soup spoon from a nobleman's banquet table. Reiner kicked him off his haunches, caught up the powder keg in both hands, stepped back, and before the rat smith had begun to comprehend what was happening, hurled it at the forge with all his strength.

The cask smashed to pieces on the bricks and the powder caught with a great whump. A huge ball of fire erupted, almost enveloping Reiner in its billows. His mask and robes were smoking as he hurried back to Giano and Franka. The rats around them shrieked. The tent was ablaze. The smith was wreathed in fire and screaming as he scampered in careening circles, setting on fire everything he touched.

'Hurry!' cried Reiner. He scooped Franka up again, then ran on with Giano at his side. The ratmen they passed paid them no mind. They were too busy staring at the spreading fire with blank expressions or pushing forward with blankets and skins of water. The whole tunnel's attention was taken by the fire. Ratmen craned their necks over Reiner and Giano as they ran by. Reiner crossed his fingers again. A thousand men, ye mountebank, he thought. A thousand men.

They reached the edge of the camp and dodged through the jumbled ranks of siege towers and war machines, then stopped with the broad tunnel before them. Reiner set Franka down with a grunt of relief and tore off his mask and robes.

'You take robes off?' asked Giano, worried.

'I don't care,' said Reiner. 'I can't stand another moment.'

'Good.' Giano pulled his off too.

'We'll be sitting ducks,' said Franka looking at the wide open space before them.

'We'll have to risk it,' said Reiner. 'The side tunnels could go nowhere, or double back.'

'So we run, hey?' said Giano.

'Aye,' said Reiner. 'We run.'

Ranald's gift of luck must have been holding, for they jogged the length of the tunnel without seeing or hearing any signs of pursuit. Reiner hoped their hunters were caught in the fire - or even better, that the whole ratman encampment had gone up in flames. Though even that would not have been enough to ease his mind. The faces of the men and women he had left in the iron cages bobbed in front of him as he ran. Their pleas rang in his ears.

As they neared the end of the tunnel, where the digging machines faced the wall, Franka put a hand on his arm and nodded ahead.

'Torchlight,' she said quietly.

Reiner stopped and peered forward. Beyond the monstrous contraptions, the tunnel's omnipresent purple light was pushed back by a warm yellow glow. Reiner frowned, trying to remember if they had left a torch burning there. No. They had not. They had ground it out.

A shadow appeared on the tunnel wall, grossly distorted, but recognizably the shadow of a ratman.

Reiner froze, his heart pounding. Was it their pursuers? Had they circled around somehow and beaten them there? Were they waiting to kill them?

But then another shadow pushed into the light next to the ratman's. It was human.

'What this?' whispered Giano. 'Rat and man?'

Reiner didn't care to find out. He looked around at the few side passages piercing the tunnel's walls. Was there a way around? He doubted it, and even if there was, which one should he take? They could wander lost down here forever. Had they the luxury of waiting, whoever it was that was blocking their way might go away, but they couldn't wait. Their pursuers might come up behind them at any moment. They had to move.

Reiner put a finger to his lips and motioned Giano and Franka ahead. They crept forward, drawing weapons and keeping the bulk of the massive diggers between them and the torchlight. Reiner began hearing voices, an alternating hissing and rumbling. He paused. He could swear he recognized that rumble. Another few steps and the rumble turned into words.

'But I tell you, you can wait no longer. You must attack as soon as you can. Tomorrow if possible!'

A cold snake of dread began to stir in Reiner's guts. It was Commander Volk Shaeder speaking.

A voice like a knife on slate answered. 'Tomorrow no. Many days cutting from skaven-tunnel to man-tunnel. War machiness not get out unless cutting.'

Reiner almost choked. Giano was growling in his throat. Franka put a hand on his arm to calm him.

'But you don't have days,' continued Shaeder. 'Look. This was left in the brothel. If Gutzmann saw this all would be lost. You must act before your carelessness exposes you!'

The harsh voice hissed, distressed. 'My armies all not here. I half strong only.'

'You needn't worry about that. The fort will be lightly defended. I'll make sure of it.'

There was pause, then the rat-voice spoke again. 'This trick?'

'Why would I trick you when we want the same thing? You want Aulschweig for a grain farm. I want the gold we've shipped to Caspar. All that stands in our way is Gutzmann and the fort. Then I will be away to Tilea with more gold than the richest man in Altdorf, and you will have food for your people for all time.'

The ratman practically crooned his answer. 'Yes. Yes. Grain farm, man-slaves to work, and make strong us with they flesh. No more we eat you garbage. Now we grow strong.'

Reiner could almost hear Shaeder biting his tongue. 'A grand dream, to be sure.'

'This you do,' said the ratman. 'Close mine. Say no safe. We dig all day and night and day again. Ready tomorrow moon-rise.'

'Excellent,' said Shaeder. 'I will...

Giano spat, drowning out the rest. 'Traitor! Traitor to man! He die! I must-'

Reiner clapped a hand over the Tilean's mouth, but it was too late. There was silence from beyond the digger. And then a harsh slither of syllables from the ratman.

Clawed feet skittered toward them and Reiner could hear swords scraping from sheaths. He backed away, pulling Franka with him.

'Sorry, captain,' said Giano. 'I carry away myself...'

'Shut up and move, you fool,' Reiner growled. 'Out from under these things.'

They ran out of the shadow of the diggers, and not a moment too soon. Black shapes swarmed around the big machines, slipping under them, over them and through their skeletal structures like eels.

'Against the wall,' said Reiner. 'Don't let 'em encircle us.'

They ran to the left wall and turned, swords at the ready. Reiner drew his pistol. From the diggers came ten of the biggest ratmen Reiner had yet seen: tall, lean warriors with glossy black fur and gleaming bronze armour. Their swords were rapiers, long and thin. They flickered like heat lightning in the purple gloom.

TWELVE

The Honour of Knights

As the ratmen closed in, Reiner saw, behind them, Shaeder running into a side passage, and a tall black-furred ratman in burnished armour watching from a safe distance. Then there was no time to pay attention to anything but the blades slashing toward him. Reiner fired his pistol into the eyes of the closest ratman, and it flew back, its face a red crater. Another lunged at him savagely, though its shiny black eyes betrayed no emotion. Reiner threw his pistol at it and blocked with his sword while drawing his dagger.

Beside him, Franka and Giano were parrying and dodging like mad. Nine blades poked and chopped at them, and the ratkin were no mean swordsmen. Though not a match for Reiner or Giano in strength, they more than made up for this deficit with their terrifying speed. The three humans had no chance to counter-attack. They were too busy keeping the ratmen's blades at bay - or at least trying to. They were failing miserably.

Reiner barked as a ratman cut him across the forearm. He heard Franka and Giano gasp as they too were pinked. Another ratman sliced Reiner's forehead, and blood trickled into his left eye, half blinding him. A third blade slid across his ribs.

A ball of rage and despair welled up in him. The scriptures of Sigmar told one that dying in battle against the enemies of mankind was the noblest destiny a man of the Empire might attain. Well, it was a lot of bunk. Reiner wanted to die of his excesses at a ripe old age, surrounded by fabulous riches. Instead he was going to die here in a filthy tunnel, pointlessly, shoved through the gate of Morr with his whole life ahead of him.

Any notion that dying beside his beloved was in some way romantic was bunk as well. It was the cruellest of jokes. There was so much they hadn't done. They hadn't danced together or lived together. They hadn't made love together. And worst of all, they hadn't been free together. For the entire time Reiner had known her, he and Franka had been prisoners, under the thumb of the Empire or Manfred or his brother. Reiner had never been able to take her where he liked, show her his old haunts, explore new places with her, or even stay in and forget the world with her.

He could feel his arms growing heavier as he fanned them this way and that to catch all the steel stabbing his way. A blade pierced his leg. Another nicked his ear.

'Franka. I-'

The girl flicked a look his way between ducking and blocking. Her eyes shared his sadness. She grinned crookedly. 'Should have broken my vow, hey?'

Reiner laughed. 'Well yes, damn ye, y'should have. But-' A blade nicked his shoulder. 'Curse it! What I wanted to say-'

'Hoy!' came a cry, and one of the ratmen Reiner was facing suddenly had a crossbow bolt sprouting from his neck. It fell, choking and screeching.

Both the ratmen and the humans looked around. Running through the giant diggers and drawing their weapons were Karel and Hals and Pavel, as well as Dag, Jergen and Gert. Only Abel was missing.

Despite what the rat-surgeon had said about his kind having no spleen, the ratmen did not break, but met the new threat in good order. Three locked up with Pavel and Hals, one forced Gert back, besting the reach of his short-hafted axe with its long blade. Their leader, who had previously hung back, lunged at Karel, pressing him strongly. Dag windmilled wildly at another with a short sword and dagger, screaming his head off but doing little. Reiner, Franka and Giano, freed to fight one ratman apiece, continued on the defensive while they recovered their strength.

Jergen, as silent as ever, once again made all the other Blackhearts look like children waving sticks. He cut down the first ratman he faced with a single stroke, and before it had collapsed, had stepped past another and beheaded it with a backstroke. A third, seeing him with his sword arm stretched behind him, lunged at his exposed chest. Jergen swayed slightly to the left, allowing its sword to pass by his ribs, then trapped the blade under his arm and chopped down through the ratman's clavicle to the heart.

'Would you look at him work,' breathed Franka.

This sudden butchery at last unnerved the other ratmen. Their attacks faltered as their comrades screamed and spouted blood. Their leader sprang back from Karel and cried the retreat.

The ratmen scampered away towards their encampment, so quick that not even Jergen got in a last lick as they disengaged. Their wounded cried after them piteously, but they never looked back.

Franka stepped forwards to dispatch these with her dagger as the others started after the retreating rats.

'No!' said Reiner. 'There's a whole army down there.'

And just as he said it, he noticed shadows moving on the tunnel walls beyond the retreating rats. Their pursuers had finally resumed the chase.

'We must fly,' he said. 'There's more coming.'

The men reluctantly turned back, wiping down their weapons and sheathing them.

'Walking vermin,' said Gert wonderingly. 'Just as y'said.'

As the men started to crowd into the hole, Dag made a face. 'That you what stinks, captain? Thought it was the rats.'

'We had to disguise our scent.'

'Ye did that well enough,' said Pavel covering his nose.

Reiner looked around for Franka. 'Franz?'

She was sitting on the chest of one of the fallen ratmen, mechanically plunging her dagger into its chest over and over again, her eyes streaming tears.

'Franz.'

She didn't respond.

He crossed to her. 'Franz!'

He caught her wrist.

She looked up, snarling. Then blinked. Her face relaxed. 'I... I'm sorry. You didn't see...'

Reiner swallowed. 'No need to explain. But they're coming.'

She nodded and stood, and they followed the others into the hole.

As they emerged into the mine tunnel, Reiner caught Hals's eye. 'Changed your mind, did you?'

Hals scowled and looked away. 'We... we couldn't let y'die. But yer safe now, so, uh, we'll be on our way.'

'Fair enough,' Reiner said.

Pavel and Hals and the others turned and started hurrying up the slope. Reiner snorted as he pressed his kerchief against the cut above his eye. It was ridiculous. They were all travelling the same way, but Reiner allowed them to pull ahead for appearance's sake.

Franka shot him a questioning look.

'Hals and Abel saw you in your dress,' Reiner said softly.

Franka groaned. 'So they know my secret?'

Reiner chuckled. 'No, no. They think I have one.'

'They...?' Franka's eyes widened. 'Oh, no!'

The divided party continued on in uneasy silence, but after a while, Pavel looked over his shoulder. 'So, what do ye know of these rat-things.'

Reiner cocked an eyebrow at him. 'You're speaking to me?'

'We only ask as it concerns the safety of the garrison,' said Gert.

'Ah.' Reiner hid a smirk. 'Well, they mean to take the fort, and Aulschweig after that. Shaeder's in with them, betraying Gutzmann for the gold in the mine.'

Hals stopped and turned. 'Is this the truth?'

'Ask Giano. He heard him too, talking to their leader.'

Pavel looked at Giano. 'Tilean?'

'Aye. Is true. He tell them attack tomorrow.'

Pavel gaped. 'Tomorrow!'

Hals spat. 'Chaos take Shaeder. Jagger's more rat than these vermin.'

'Worse than Gutzmann,' said Pavel. 'That's certain.'

'Aye,' said Gert. 'Filthy turncoat. Ought to be fed his own guts.'

Karel shook his head. 'I can't believe that a knight of the Empire would do this. Is honour dead?'

The Blackhearts laughed. Karel looked baffled.

'You forget the company you keep.' said Reiner. 'We are all too well acquainted with the honour of knights.'

'This is bad,' said Hals. 'We've to warn the fort.'

Gert laughed. 'And will you be the one to tell 'em ratmen are coming to kill 'em? They'll lock you up.'

'Why warn 'em at all?' asked Dag. 'They be no mates of ours. Let's put these cursed mountains behind us and find someplace warm to hole up.'

'Forgotten the poison in our blood, lad?' asked Pavel. 'We've still a job to do, ratmen or no. And it may take longer than a day to finish it. We have to warn 'em.'

'Someone does,' said Hals.

The pikemen slid another glance toward Reiner.

Hals coughed. 'Er, captain...'

'Is it captain now?' Reiner drawled.

'You think you can trust him?' asked Gert.

'I trust him to save his own skin,' said Pavel, cold. 'He always looks after that.'

Reiner grunted. 'All right. I'll speak to Gutzmann. But it would serve you right if I lit out on my own.'

'But... but we're to kill Gutzmann,' said Karel, frowning. 'Gutzmann is a traitor to the Empire.'

'Who else would you have us tell?' asked Franka. 'Shaeder?'

'Shaeder's a traitor to mankind,' said Gert.

Karel was upset. 'So we ask Gutzmann to save us one moment, and then kill him the next?'

'It ain't all roses is it, laddie?' said Hals.

'Blame your future father-in-law if you don't find it to yer liking,' said Pavel.

'Manfred couldn't have known what we would find here.' said Karel defensively.

'There is a way Gutzmann might be spared,' said Gert. 'We're to kill him only as a last resort, aye? Maybe he gets a chance to fight for the Empire for once, he might think twice about leaving.'

'Aye,' said Pavel, brightening. 'That's true. He might.'

Hals nodded at Reiner. 'All right, captain. You tell him. Let's go'

'As you wish.'

In the main entry chamber of the mine all was chaos. The Blackhearts heard it before they saw it: bells ringing, horns braying, guards bellowing orders. As they crept out of the closed tunnel, they saw miners streaming from the two open ones, picks on their shoulders and worried expressions on their faces. The guards herded them towards the exit with shouts and shoves.

'What's all this?' asked Reiner of a guard as they joined the crush.

'Commander Shaeder's orders. Engineers say the lower tunnels could collapse at any moment. Mine's to be closed until further notice.'

'Shaeder ordered this? When?'

'A few minutes ago, sir. Now on your way.'

Reiner frowned. The last he had seen of Shaeder he had disappeared down a side passage in the ratmen's tunnel. It must come out somewhere up here. He wondered where.

It was dusk when they at last reached the fort, wheezing and gasping from the long run.

The gate guard saluted Reiner and stepped in his way. 'Pardon, sir,' he said, covering his nose. 'But Captain Vortmunder asks that you see him immediately about absenting yer duties all day.'

Reiner dodged around the man. 'My regards to Captain Vortmunder, and tell him I will see him as soon as I am able.'

'Ye might have a bath first!' the guard called after him.

Reiner made directly for Gutzmann's quarters, the rest of the Blackhearts trailing behind him. Reiner kept a weather eye out for Shaeder or his guards, the Hammer Bearers, but they didn't appear.

Two of Gutzmann's personal guard stood outside his door, chatting together. They came to attention as Reiner and the rest rumbled down the hall.

'Easy now, sirs,' said the first, holding up a hand. 'What's all this?'

Reiner saluted, breathing heavily. 'Corporal Meyerling reporting, sir. I wish to speak to General Gutzmann about danger within the mine and treachery within the camp.'

The guard stepped back, hand over his nose. His mate gagged. 'You must take it through the proper channels, corporal.'

'This is an emergency, sir,' said Reiner, drawing himself up. 'It cannot wait to go through channels.'

'Sorry, corporal. I got my orders...'

The door opened behind him and Matthais looked out. 'What's the trouble, Neihoff...?' He broke off as he saw Reiner. He sniffed, frowning. 'Meyerling. What are you doing here? And what's that horrible stink?'

'Never mind the stink. I've something to tell the general. What are you doing here?'

'Er, a fellow made a disturbing report to me. I brought him to Gutzmann.'

'Well, what I've to say is disturbing as well. Can you ask him if he'll see me?'

'I, er, yes. I will. Wait here.'

Matthais closed the door, and there was a wait, during which Reiner and the others caught their breath, and the guards held theirs. Reiner wondered what was troubling Matthais. He was far from his sunny self.

After a minute he reappeared and held the door open.

'All right, he'll see you,' he said. 'The rest are to wait in here.' He indicated the general's anteroom.

Reiner and the Blackhearts filed in as Matthais spoke to the guards. He then beckoned Reiner into Gutzmann's inner office and followed him in.

Gutzmann sat in a deep chair by the fire with his booted feet up on the fender. He waved as Reiner saluted. 'Ah, Hetzau. You wished to see me?'

'Yes, sir. I...' Reiner froze as he realized that Gutzmann had called him by his real name. 'Er...'

'I believe you know my guest?'

There was another chair at the fire, which faced away from Reiner. Its occupant leaned forward and looked around.

It was Abel.

Reiner cursed inwardly. A damned neat trick. He would have applauded if it hadn't been directed at him.

'My lord, I don't understand.' He spoke automatically, his mind racing. What was Abel's game? Why betray him when he was betraying himself as well? He would hang from Gutzmann's battlements right beside Reiner.

Gutzmann snorted. 'Don't be tiresome, Hetzau. You understand perfectly well. Quartermaster Halstieg has told me everything. How you were commanded by Count Valdenheim to assassinate me. How you joined my army under false pretences to do so. How you spied on my officers to discover my plans. How you attempted to recruit Halstieg and others to help you in your plot.'

'I beg your pardon, my lord?' Reiner's heart thudded in his chest. Now he was beginning to see. He'd underestimated Halstieg. The quartermaster was cleverer than he looked. He had found a way to at once betray Reiner and clear himself. This way he could remove Reiner, take Manfred's job for himself, and win his way into Gutzmann's confidences all at the same time.

Gutzmann scowled at him. 'Do you deny the charges?'

Reiner hesitated. He might try to brass it out and deny everything; try to use his powers of persuasion to convince Gutzmann that Halstieg had made it up out of the whole cloth, but there was little chance of success that way. Reiner had already condemned himself out of his own mouth. He cleared his throat. 'I do not deny that I was sent by Valdenheim, but not as an assassin. Halstieg and I and the others of my group were ordered by my lord Valdenheim to travel here and discover who was taking the Emperor's gold, and then to stop those responsible. Execution of the culprit was not beyond the purview of our brief, this is true, but neither was it our only option. We might have found a way to convince you...'

'We? Our?' cried Abel. 'Don't try to tar me with the brush of your guilt, deceiver. I had nothing to do with it.'

Reiner looked at Gutzmann. 'Is that what he has told you, my lord?'

'Hetzau came to me here, my lord!' said Abel. 'The first day he arrived! He approached a number of us, trying to turn us against you.'

'My lord.' said Reiner. 'Halsteig has been with us from the beginning. There are ten of us. We came, all of us, from Altdorf. We...'

'And the others wait in my anteroom?' asked Gutzmann. 'Have you decided that I am your culprit? Did you come to kill me?'

Reiner pursed his lips. 'My lord may accuse me of treachery, but I hope he doesn't think me unsubtle.'

Gutzmann laughed. 'Then why did you come? Other than to foul my offices with your odour. Sigmar, Matthais, you warned me, but I had no idea.'

Reiner paused. Caught flatfooted by Abel's betrayal he had almost forgotten why he had come. But now...

He sighed. He had been close to convincing Gutzmann that he was a more honest villain than Abel; and given time, he might have found a way to salvage the situation, but now, now he must mention the ratmen, and all his credibility would wither away in a storm of laughter.

Unfortunately, ridiculous as it sounded, the danger was real. The camp would be overrun, the garrison slain, Aulschweig enslaved - and most distressing of all, he and Franka and the other Blackhearts might be caught in the middle of it. Someone had to do something. He only regretted that that someone appeared to be him.

He licked his lips. 'Know, my lord...'

Muffled cursing and shouting came from the anteroom. Reiner could hear the sounds of a scuffle. He looked at the door.

'Pay it no mind, corporal.' said Gutzmann. 'It is merely your men being arrested. Pray go on.'

Reiner groaned. He was beginning to think that, poison or no poison, Manfred or no Manfred, he and the Blackhearts should have turned north when they ran out of the mine, and just kept running. 'Yes, my lord.' He took a deep breath. 'Know that when I speak you will call me mad. But if you are wise, you will see that its very lunacy is proof of the truth of my warning. For only a terrible danger would cause me to squander what little goodwill you feel toward me at such a delicate moment.'

'What are you babbling about?' said Gutzmann, confused.

Abel laughed, a high nervous giggle. 'He's about to tell you about the ratmen!'

'The...?' Gutzmann looked at Abel.

The ratmen,' Abel repeated, still chuckling. 'It was the tale he meant to tell to lure you away. Ratmen in the mine. He would, er, lure you there and then bury you in a rock fall, claiming an accident.'

Gutzmann frowned. 'You said nothing of this before.'

Abel shrugged. 'Can you blame me, my lord?'

Gutzmann turned to Reiner, an eyebrow raised. 'Is this true? Is this the ruse you meant to use?'

Reiner cursed inwardly. Abel had twisted his words before he had even said them. But he had no choice but to go on. 'Except that it is no ruse, my lord. There are ratmen mustering in tunnels below the mines. And they mean to attack the fort.'

Gutzmann laughed and looked at Abel wonderingly. 'You were right. He prates the stuff of fairy tales. It is beyond understanding.' He turned to Reiner. 'Come sir, why do you persist? Ratmen? Could you think of nothing better?'

'They exist, sir. I have today seen them with my own eyes. We fought them. I have their blood on my clothes. The odour that offends you is theirs.'

Gutzmann stared at him with his bright blue eyes, as if trying to see into his soul. 'You don't seem mad...'

'There is worse to come, sir. But still I must tell it.' Reiner coughed and continued. 'While returning from their tunnels, we came upon a party of these ratmen talking to a man. We crept forward and discovered that it was Commander Shaeder.'

'What!' Gutzmann banged his hand on the arm of his chair. 'Sir, your foolishness goes too far. How dare you malign the commander's name?'

'He betrays you, my lord. It seems that the ratmen mean to take Aulschweig for a grain farm, and Shaeder has promised them an easy victory over you so they might cross over the pass. In exchange, they promised him all the gold from the mine. The reason...'

Gutzmann laughed uproariously. 'Now I know you are mad.' He raised his voice and called through the door. 'Neihoff!'

After a moment, the guard poked his head in the door. 'General?' 'Fetch Commander Shaeder here. He must hear this.'

The guard ducked his head and disappeared again.

Gutzmann tipped back in his chair. 'You've betrayed yourself, for you don't know Shaeder. There isn't enough gold in the world for that old Sigmarite to turn his back on the Empire. He loves it more than life itself. If he were to betray me, it wouldn't be for gold, it would be to stop me from leaving.'

'I only repeat what I heard, sir,' said Reiner. 'The cave-ins are a lie. The reason he shuts the mine is so that the ratmen may use their digging machines, which they have heretofore used only at night, all this day and night to widen their tunnel to the mine in order to bring up their siege engines and attack the fort tomorrow after dark.'

Gutzmann was red in the face. 'Enough sir, enough. Digging machines? Siege engines? It is already madness to believe in ratmen, but to credit them with the ability to build machines of such complexity?'

'My lord, please!' Reiner held out his hands. 'Think for a moment. Why would I put myself at such great risk to tell you a foolish lie? I have found already the proof Manfred asked me to seek out. I know you intend to desert the Empire and help Caspar usurp his brother's throne. I know of the shipments of gold.'

'You...!' Gutzmann's eyes bulged. 'Quiet, you fool!'

Reiner ignored him. 'If I had wanted to betray you, I would have found a way to kill you and escaped north with the gold you hide in the crates in the third tunnel.'

Reiner saw Abel's head come up at that.

Veins were throbbing in Gutzmann's temples. 'You know all this?'

'And yet,' said Reiner. 'Still I came here to warn you, when a fortune and Manfred's favour were within easy reach.'

'But...' said Gutzmann. 'But, ratmen?'

There was a knock at the door and Shaeder entered. 'You wished to see me, general?'

'Shaeder, come in,' said Gutzmann. He wiped his brow and composed himself. 'I... I thought you should face your accuser.'

Reiner thought he saw Shaeder pale a little as he turned and saw him. The commander had recognized him in the tunnel then - and undoubtedly thought him killed by the black rats.

He recovered instantly, however. 'Corporal Meyerling? Of what does he accuse me?' His nose wrinkled. 'And why does he smell so?'

'He says that you conspire with ratmen who live in tunnels below the mine to overrun the fort and make of Aulschweig a, what was it you said, sir? A grain farm? And that you did all this for the gold in the mine.'

Shaeder laughed, long and loud. But stopped when he realized that Gutzmann hadn't joined him.

He frowned. 'I'm sorry, general. It is no laughing matter. For whether the man is mad, or has some more sinister purpose in spouting this nonsense, he is dangerous, and should be locked up before he tries to do you injury. You can't possibly believe him?'

Gutzmann shrugged. 'I don't know what to believe now.'

Reiner swallowed. 'My lord, I don't ask you to believe me. Only go to the end of the closed tunnel and see what you find. If after that you find nothing, you may do with me what you will.'

'You see, general,' said Abel, 'he seeks to lure you to a cave-in. Hang him.'

Reiner thought he saw a sly smile flick across Shaeder's lips as he turned to Gutzmann, chuckling. 'No no, my lord. I could not live with your suspicion hovering over me. I insist that you come to the mine and see for yourself the falseness of Meyerling's story. Merely allow the engineers tomorrow morning to make sure that he hasn't planted some vile trap and I will have them escort you down to the cave-in that blocks the tunnel.'

Gutzmann nodded. 'I will. I have meant to see it for myself anyway.' He turned to Reiner, his face sad and hard. 'I can pity a madman, sir, but I do not care for liars. As you will discover.'

Reiner cursed himself as Gutzmann motioned for Matthais to take him away. What a fool he was. He had played directly into Shaeder's hands. He had given him the perfect excuse to deliver Gutzmann to his doom. He didn't resist when Matthais took his arm, or notice when he gave him a hurt look. He didn't even spit at Abel as he passed. He was too absorbed in flagellating himself.

THIRTEEN

Do You Still Say I Lie?

The rest of the Blackhearts were sitting in sullen silence when Matthias and two guards threw Reiner into a dank, straw-strewn stone cell deep beneath the keep. He could barely see them as they raised their heads, just their eyes glinting in the dim torchlight that found its way through the oak door's heavily barred window. Franka nodded to him, but said nothing. She sat apart from the others.

Only Karel brightened at the sight of him. 'Captain, you're here! The others thought you might have betrayed us.'

Reiner shot a look at Hals and Pavel. 'The others will think anything of me, it seems.' There was little room left to sit. Much of the floor was studded with heavy iron bolts from which the chains had rusted long ago. No one seemed inclined to make room for him. He sighed, then crossed deliberately to Franka and sat down beside her. No one spoke. 'It wasn't I who betrayed us,' he said at last. 'It was Abel. He named us assassins.'

'Hey?' said Giano. 'For why?'

Gert snorted. 'So he can get us out of the way and claim the credit of killing Gutzmann for himself. Always thought that boy was a mite too smart.'

'Aye,' said Reiner, pointedly. 'There's a fellow who truly cares only for his own skin.'

There was an uncomfortable silence after that. In the darkness, Reiner could see Pavel nudging Hals. Hals shoved back, angry, but after a moment he sighed.

'All right, all right.' He looked up at Reiner, his mouth pulled down into a bulldog frown. 'Captain, I'll ask ye plain what we all been wondering. What went on in the room in the brothel before the ratmen attacked?'

Reiner shook his head. 'We are locked in a cell, with our true purpose exposed and the noose getting nearer by the second, and this is what concerns you?'

'I no care,' said Giano. 'Is they who is caring. Love is love, hey?'

'That weren't an answer,' said Gert.

'Then I'll give you one,' Reiner snapped. 'What happened in that room is no business of yours. Now, have any of you any ideas for escaping this pit?'

'But it is our business! How are we to follow ye when ye keep secrets from us?' asked Pavel. 'How can we trust ye when y've lied?'

Reiner snorted. 'Don't be ridiculous. We're all of us liars. We've every one of us secrets. You and Hals still haven't told what really happened with your captain, to name an instance.'

'We have, though,' said Hals.

'And t'ain't the same anyway,' Pavel said, shaking his head. 'The secrets we keep don't make us unfit to lead.'

'Nor does mine.'

'Captain,' said Karel, pleadingly. 'Just deny it plainly and have an end to it.'

Pavel sneered. 'Being a lover of men may not matter in Altdorf gambling houses, but t'ain't right in the army, where we all live, er, cheek by jowl, so to speak...'

'Captain ain't an invert, curse you!' cried Dag. 'And I'll kill the man who says so!'

'Then y'll be killing all of us, I think,' said Gert.

Reiner sighed. 'And that's what it comes down to, isn't it? It's not the secrets. It's not the lies. Well, let me set your minds at ease. Dag is right. I am not a lover of men.'

'You see!' cried Dag. 'You see.'

'Though if I was,' continued Reiner, 'I wouldn't be the first or the last to lead men...'

He stopped when he saw Hals's and Pavel's faces. They were almost comically downcast.

'What now?'

'We hoped at least that ye wouldn't lie.' said Pavel.

Hals clenched his fists. 'Captain, I saw ye!'

'What you saw wasn't what you thought it was.' said Reiner. 'You were mistaken.'

'Then what was it?' asked Pavel.

Reiner's eyes slid to Franka, then away. 'I cannot say.'

'T'ain't good enough,' said Hals.

'Pikeman,' said Karel, angry. 'You have no right to harass a superior officer this way. Captain...'

Reiner waved a hand at Karel. 'Forget it, lad, forget it.' He sighed and looked back to Hals. 'And if I were to say I am, would you trust me again? Would you follow me?'

There was a long pause. Everybody looked at the floor.

At last Reiner chuckled. 'You see, I was right. The lies and secrets don't matter. It's only who I bunk with that concerns you. Something that matters not the slightest...'

'So you admit it?' said Hals.

'No, I do not,' said Reiner scornfully. 'You put words in my mouth.'

Gert sneered. 'Better than what you put in your mouth, captain.'

Dag shot to his feet, fists balled. 'Y'filthy dog. Y'll die for that!' He leapt at Gert, swinging blindly. Gert lurched aside, absorbing most of the punches with his bulk, then grabbed the archer's legs and pulled him down. They rolled about on the floor in a chaos of flailing arms and legs. Everyone but Reiner and Jergen shouted at them and tried to pull them apart.

Franka jumped up, furious. 'Stop it, you fools! Stop it! You're all mad! Captain Hetzau isn't a lover of men!' she cried. 'And I should know better than any of you!'

Reiner's heart banged against his ribs. 'Frank - Franz! Don't be a fool!' He tried to pull her back down.

She wrenched her arm away. 'The reason I was wearing woman's clothes, and the reason Captain Reiner was kissing me...'

'Franka! Stop!' '...is because I am a woman!'

Reiner groaned. The secret was out. Franka would be a soldier no more. Manfred would send her away from him. The other Blackhearts would shun her.

The other Blackhearts hadn't heard her. They were too busy trying to separate Gert and Dag. She grabbed Pavel and shook him by the shirt-front.

'Listen to me, curse you! I'm a woman!'

'Hey?' Hals blinked. 'What d'ye say, lad?'

'I'm not a lad,' Franka screamed. 'Are you deaf?'

The others were turning now. Even Dag and Gert were slowing their punches.

'Not a lad?' said Pavel, confused.

'No,' said Franka, struggling for patience. 'I am a woman. I disguised myself as a boy so I could fight for the Empire.'

The men stared at her. Dag and Gert gaped at her from the floor.

'Is true?' asked Giano.

'Of course it ain't,' said Hals. He shook his head sadly. 'Lad. I know why y'do this. Ye wish to protect the captain, and 'tis a noble thought. But it won't wash. We've seen y'fight. Lasses don't fight.'

'I do,' said Franka. 'Come, have you never wondered why I've never bathed with you? Why I always tented alone? Why I said I'd kill any man who touched me?'

'Y'might have been afraid of, er, temptation,' said Pavel.

Franka laughed. 'Do you think yourself so irresistible, pike-man?'

'Why don't y'ask her to show ye proof,' said Gert.

Dag laughed. 'Aye. Aye, give us a show.'

'No!' cried Reiner. 'I forbid it. Get away, you filthy jackals!'

Franka shrugged. 'I think I must, captain. There seems no other way to convince them. But not to all of you, curse you!' she shouted, catching their looks.

She turned from one to the other, then at last came to a decision. 'Hals, stand in the corner.'

She pointed to the far end of the cell. Hals looked embarrassed. The others chuckled.

'Come on, come on,' said Franka. 'Let's be done with it.'

With dragging feet, Hals trudged to the corner and faced out. Franka stood in front of him and began unlacing her jerkin.

The company waited in silence. Dag's eyes gleamed. Reiner wanted to kill them all for forcing Franka to this indignity. How dare they not take her at her word? Then he recalled that she had had to do the same for him in order to convince him.

Hals shifted uncomfortably as Franka opened her jerkin and began undoing her buttons. He didn't seem to know where to look. At last Franka pulled aside her shirt and tugged down the bandages with which she bound her chest. 'There.' she said, glaring. 'Do you still say I lie?'

Reiner and the others couldn't see Franka's nakedness, but the look on Hals's face told them all they needed to know. Reiner laughed in spite of himself. The veteran pikeman was gaping like a gaffed trout. He looked like the cuckolded husband from an innyard farce.

'Yer... yer a lass!' he said, blinking.

Franka pulled up her bandages and closed her shirt. 'Aye,' she said dryly. 'So now you've no reason to distrust the captain, yes?'

'But this is no better!' cried Pavel, stepping forward. 'We, we've cursed in front of you. Told barracks stories in front of you.'

'We've pissed in front of you, for Sigmar's sake!' roared Hals, outraged. 'Y've seen us naked.'

'Not to worry,' said Franka. 'I took no pleasure in it.'

Gert laughed. 'The lass has wit, at least.'

Karel turned to Reiner, very stiff. 'Captain, you have known this girl's secret for some time?'

'Since the caves of the Middle Mountains,' said Reiner.

'And you have allowed her to fight, to put herself in danger?'

'Aye.'

'And you still call yourself a gentleman?' The boy was red in the face.

Reiner sighed. 'First, lad, I have never called myself a gentleman. Second, you try stopping her. She won't listen to me.'

'But this won't do.' said Hals. 'A lass can't fight. It ain't right. We've to tell Manfred. Send her back to her husband.'

Franka shuddered.

Reiner put his hand on her shoulder. 'You can be sure Manfred already knows. His surgeons had their way with her as they did with us.'

Karel choked. 'Count Manfred lets her fight?'

Reiner smiled. 'After all this time you still find yourself shocked by your future father-in-law's behaviour? To him Franka is only another criminal, whose imposture is another sword he holds over her head to force her to do his bidding.'

'Well, damn Manfred and damn you,' said Hals. 'I won't have it! Never let it be said that an Ostlandman stood by and let a lass fight while there was still life in his limbs!'

'Hear hear!' said Pavel. And Gert and Dag echoed him.

A sudden sob from Franka stopped them. They looked at her.

'I knew it would be like this!' she moaned. 'I knew it!' She balled her fists at her sides. 'Is this one thing enough that you turn against me? Am I not your friend?'

'We don't turn against you, lass,' said Pavel softly. 'We want to keep you safe from harm.'

'But it's not what I want! I want to be with you! I want to be a soldier!'

'But y'can't be,' said Hals. 'Yer a lass now.'

'As I always have been! All that has changed is that you know it.'

Hals shook his head. 'And I can't unknow it. I'm sorry, girl.'

Gert shrugged. 'What matters it one way or t'other? Likely we die swinging before we've a chance to fight again anyway. Either Gutzmann hangs us for spies, or Shaeder feeds us to his furry friends.'

The others sighed, returned by this unwelcome reminder to the reality of their situation.

'True enough,' said Pavel. 'But still, she shouldn't be here, should she?'

'Nor should any of us,' said Reiner. He straightened up. 'And if we turn our minds to getting free, we might be able to continue this fascinating debate later in more pleasant surroundings. Like the Griffin in Altdorf. What say you?'

After some sullen reluctance, the others agreed to try to think of some way out of their predicament, but the day had been long and filled with running and fighting and uncertainty, and once they had returned to their places against the walls and wrapped their arms around their knees, the talk quickly devolved into mumbles and grunts, until at last, one by one their heads nodded and dropped.

Just as he was drifting off, Reiner felt Franka slump against him. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. At least there is that, he thought. At least there is that.

They had no idea how long they had slept or what time it was when they woke. Neither noise nor light penetrated this far underground, so they couldn't tell if it was morning or afternoon or still the middle of the night, or what might be happening in the fort above. Frustrated, Reiner tried to puzzle it out from what he had learned the previous night, but it was so cold that he found it hard to concentrate. Would Gutzmann discover Shaeder's treachery and come down to free them with profuse apologies and praise, or would a flood of ratmen pour down the stairs and tear them to bloody shreds? After a while his thoughts became a muddle and he could do no more than lean against Franka and stare at the opposite wall, numb with boredom and despair. The others were no better. They had tried at first to invent an escape plan, but all started, 'Once we get out of this cell...'

Reiner had thought he might be able to accomplish something by engaging their guards in conversation. For if he could make friends with them he might trick them into relaxing their guard, but they must have been warned of his powers of persuasion. He could get nothing out of them but grunts and curses.

Sometime later he woke panting from a nightmare of pleading voices and twisted hands reaching from iron cages to tug at his clothes, to find that Franka was shaking him.

'What's the...'

She shushed him, pointing to her ear. There were voices outside the cell. He sat up and listened. Karel was crouched at the door.

'But we're not to be relieved until evening mess,' said one of their guards.

'You're relieved now,' said a new voice. 'Commander Shaeder's orders.'

The Blackhearts looked around at each other. 'That's us done then,' whispered Hals. Reiner cursed. 'How many are there?'

Karel rose up to peek through the window then dropped back down again. He held up four fingers. His eyes were wide. 'Shaeder's greatswords!'

The light increased as boot heels clopped closer to the door. Reiner slapped at his belt, but of course his sword wasn't there. They had all been disarmed. 'On your feet!' he hissed. 'Be ready.' He wished he knew for what.

The Blackhearts pulled themselves up, stiff and groaning, trying to shake feeling into their numb limbs. Karel shifted away from the door. The key turned in the lock.

FOURTEEN

May Sigmar Speed You

Reiner's mind raced, trying to think of some way to overcome the greatswords. It was impossible. They were proven veterans. They had seen everything. They were ready for any trick, and they were armed to the teeth. What could he possibly do to throw them off their stride, to shock them?

The door was swinging open. He could see the four Hammer Bearers standing beyond it, swords out. The leader held a lantern at his side. They had the look of witchfinders on the hunt, seeing sin in everything.

His heart banged against his chest. He had it!

'Franka!'

He grabbed the girl's wrist and dragged her before the door just as the four greatswords stepped in, raising their swords.

'Your time has come, villains,' said the leader.

Reiner pulled Franka into his arms, crying, 'Kiss me, beloved!' Then put action to his words and mashed his lips against hers with all the passion he could muster.

The greatswords gaped, paralyzed with shock. The tip of the leader's sword hit the stone floor with a clank. 'What abomination is this? Inverted degenerates...'

As quick as an eel, Jergen darted forward and kicked the lantern from the leader's hand, then ripped his sword from his slack fingers as the cell was plunged into darkness.

'Rush 'em!' Reiner shouted.

He dived at the second man's knees as Franka headbutted him in the chest. The fellow hit the floor. Around him, Reiner could hear, but not see, swords clanging as the others charged forward, screaming battle cries. Fists smacked into skin. Men grunted and yelped. There was a sharp gasp, and the unmistakable sound of steel chunking into flesh.

Reiner flailed for his greatsword's sword arm, trying to catch it before the man could swing. He caught the sword instead and razored open the base of his thumb. Reiner wrapped the blade in his arms and hugged it as the man tried to pull it away.

'Sit on him!'

'I am!' came Franka's voice.

Reiner fought the man's hands and kneed for his groin as shouts and thumps and clanks came from all over the cell. There was a sickening crack nearby. His man convulsed. A second crack and all the strength went out of the fellow's limbs. Another and he let go of his sword.

'Franka! Enough.'

'Oh.'

Reiner grabbed the Hammer's sword and stood, but the sounds of the other conflicts were trailing off except for one last thrashing fight in the centre.

'Is me you have!' came Giano's voice. 'Get he...!'

Reiner groped around in the darkness and found the lantern. He righted it and fumbled in his belt pouch for flint and steel, but the flame had not gone out, only guttered, and now came to life again.

Reiner looked around. Giano was fighting a disarmed greatsword, and Dag was fighting Giano, trying to punch him in the kidneys. Around them the other Blackhearts were rising to their feet. Their opponents remained motionless.

'Dag!' Reiner called. 'Leave off! Get the greatsword! I want to...'

Dag sprang up as he saw the greatsword was still alive. As the others stepped forward to help, he jumped on the man's chest, snatched his dagger from its scabbard and plunged it into his eye up to the hilt. He laughed like a child with a pin-wheel as the man spasmed and jerked, then lay still.

'Got him, captain.' he said, looking up. 'What'd ye want?'

Reiner balled his fists. He had never in his life come across a fellow who was in more need of killing. He forced himself to speak slowly. 'I wanted... to speak... to him. To find out if Shaeder had put his plan into action yet.'

Dag looked at him blankly. 'Oh. Well, too late for that now, hey?' He giggled.

'Aye.' said Reiner. 'Too late.'

The rest of the greatswords were dead as well. Gert had crushed the windpipe of one with his thumbs while Pavel and Hals held his arms and legs. Jergen had accounted for another, with the help of Karel, who had held the man by the ankles. The life poured out of his neck in a red flood. Franka sat on the chest of the last. The back of his head was a crimson crater, and hair and brains slicked one of the iron rings that stuck up out of the floor. Franka held clumps of the man's beard and hair in her clenched fists. She shivered with revulsion when she saw what she had done, and flung the tufts away.

'Well done, lads,' said Reiner, wrapping his cut thumb with his handkerchief. 'Rohmner, check the guardroom.'

Jergen stepped to the door and looked out. He gave the all's well sign.

Gert laughed as he stood up. 'What in Sigmar's name inspired you to kiss the lass?'

Reiner shot a chagrined look at Franka. 'It worked, did it not?'

'Almost didn't.' said Hals, scowling. 'Ye surprised me near as much as ye surprised them.'

'Aye.' said Pavel. 'I nearly pissed m'self.' He blushed and looked at Franka. 'Beggin' yer pardon, lass.'

'Stop that!' Franka barked.

The others laughed.

Reiner took the sword belt, keys and gloves from his man and gave Franka his dagger. The others looted the rest, sharing out swords and daggers as best they could.

'So,' said Gert. 'What's yer plan, captain?'

Reiner smirked. 'Captain again, is it? Well, I...' He hesitated. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to get Gutzmann's gold out of the mine and scurry off back to civilization before the ratmen poured out of their hole. But he couldn't do that until he knew Gutzmann was dead. The fact that Shaeder's greatswords had come to kill them suggested he was, but Reiner couldn't be sure. He sighed. 'Well, I suppose we should go up and see what's in the wind first.' He glared at Dag. 'Since we've no one to ask.'

He stepped out of the cell with the others behind him. A stairway ascended into darkness on the far side of the square guardroom. They took it, swords at the ready. As they turned up the last flight they saw at the top a guard with his back to them, standing on the far side of a locked gate.

Reiner motioned them back down around the corner. 'Any of you recognize that fellow? Or recall his name?'

Gert frowned. 'I need another look.' He crept up to the landing, peeked around, then came back down. 'Herlachen, I think,' he said. 'Or Herlacher. Some such. His tent's by mine. We did wall duty together t'other day.'

Reiner shrugged. 'It will have to do. Now back down a bit, then come up marching.' He looked to Jergen. 'When he opens the door, you run up and pull him in. You understand?'

Jergen nodded.

The Blackhearts backed down another flight, then Reiner dropped his hand and they began marching up, kicking the stairs with their boot heels.

Just before they reached the last flight again, Reiner called out, gruff and loud. 'Herlachener! Open the gate!'

The guard's voice echoed down to them. 'Yessir! Right away, sir.'

Reiner listened to the jingle and clank of the guard putting key to lock. He held up his hand and the Blackhearts marched in place. It wouldn't do to come around the corner before the fellow had opened the door. At last he heard the scrape of the key and the squeal of the door swinging open.

'Now, Jergen!'

Jergen darted around the corner as Reiner and the rest resumed marching.

They mounted the last flight just in time to see him springing up at the surprised guard. Jergen punched him in the nose as he tried to draw, then caught him around the back of the neck and flung him down the stairs, where Reiner and Giano caught him and clamped hands over his mouth. Reiner held his breath as the swordmaster took the keys from the lock, pulled the gate closed and slipped back down the stairs. He expected shouts and challenges, but none came. He exhaled.

'Right.' he whispered. 'Tie him up and leave him downstairs.'

'Better to kill him, hey?' said Dag.

'We ain't at war with the army, lad.' growled Reiner.

As Hals and Pavel tied the guard's wrists and ankles with the laces of his jerkin, Reiner craned his neck to look through the gate. The soldiers who wandered through the hallway beyond it seemed calm, which told Reiner that the ratmen had not yet attacked, and Gutzmann had not been reported dead or missing. Daylight streamed into the hall from the courtyard door. It looked to be late afternoon.

He waited for the hall to empty, but it never did. The armoury was the first door on the right, the barracks where Gutzmann's retinue of knights slept the second. On the left were the tall doors that led to the main hall - usually locked - and beyond them, the door to the courtyard. The hall was in constant use.

'We'll have to brass it out, lads.' Reiner said. 'With luck, our fall from grace isn't common knowledge. We'll just stroll out like naught's the matter.'

'You forgetting you and Ostini and the lass smell like a latrine, captain?' asked Gert.

'And look like ye fell in one,' added Pavel.

Reiner sighed. 'Curse it, I had. Well, I'll think of something.' He hoped he wasn't lying. 'If anyone challenges us, let me do the talking. If they call guards, run for the north gate.' He took a deep breath. 'Right. Off we go.'

Reiner mounted the steps and pushed open the gate with the others behind him. He tried to keep his breath steady, but every soldier who stepped into the hall made him jump. They all wrinkled their noses as the Blackhearts passed.

At last a knight stopped, scowling. 'Sigmar's oxter! What happened to you, corporal?'

Reiner saluted. 'Sorry for the smell, sir. Floor of the guardroom latrine caved in. Some of us got banged up a bit. Going to clean off now.'

The captain made a face. 'Well be quick about it.'

Reiner saluted again and they continued to the courtyard door. Reiner looked out, then pulled back, heart thudding. Shaeder was on the steps before the keep's main door, talking with Obercaptain Nuemark.

'Shaeder.' said Reiner over his shoulder. 'Curse the luck. We'll have to wait a moment...'

Before he could finish there was a commotion at the gate, and a lance corporal galloped into the courtyard on a lathered horse. 'General Gutzmann.' he called, reining up. 'I have urgent news for General Gutzmann.'

Shaeder stepped to the lancer as he dismounted. 'General Gutzmann is called away to the mines, corporal,' he said. 'Tell me your news.'

Everyone in the courtyard turned to listen as the lancer saluted. 'Yes commander. My lads and I were patrolling the southern pass, bandit hunting, when we saw a column coming from Aulschweig.'

'A column?' asked Shaeder, frowning. 'What do you mean, man?'

'Commander, it was Baron Caspar at the head of an army. We crept forward to observe and counted six company of horse, eight hundred pike and musket, and siege engines.'

'Siege engines?' Shaeder sounded shocked. 'What is he about? Does he mean to take the fort?'

'My lord,' said the corporal. 'I believe that is exactly what he means to do.'

There was uproar in the courtyard as everyone within earshot began talking at once. Lancers began pushing past Reiner and the Blackhearts into the courtyard. It was a perfect opportunity. No one, not even the guards at the gate, would look at them now.

'Around the edge, lads,' Reiner murmured. 'And keep your heads down.'

They shuffled out in the midst of a crowd of lancers. Shaeder had mounted the steps and was issuing orders to the assembled troops. 'Daggert, ride to the mine and ask General Gutzmann to return at once. I will take command until he can be found.' He turned to Nuemark. 'Obercaptain, assemble a force of three hundred pike and a company each of pistoliers, knights, lancers, swords and handguns, then march south to Lessner's Narrows and hold it for as long as you are able so that we may have time to prepare. In the meantime, all other captains are to have their troops make the fort ready to receive an attack. And someone find Obercaptain Oppenhauer and ask him to see me in my offices at his earliest convenience. Now go, all of you, and may Sigmar speed you.'

The courtyard erupted into confusion as men ran hither and thither while officers shouted questions and bellowed for horses.

Above it all, Infantry Obercaptain Nuemark called out his orders in a clear, calm voice. 'I will have Knight Captain Venk, Lance Captain Halmer and Pistolier Captain Krugholt report to me as well as Pike Captain...'

The rest was lost as Reiner and the Blackhearts dove into a stream of men rushing out of the gate. No one stopped them as they passed into the fort. In fact, they gave them a wide berth.

'Aulschweig attacks now?' cried Karel as they hurried along. 'What rotten luck!'

'Don't be a fool,' said Reiner. 'Couldn't you see? That little scene was more staged than one of Detlef Sierck's murder plays.'

'Staged?' queried Karel. 'What do you mean?'

'It's a trick,' said Franka, answering before Reiner could reply. 'There is no attack from Aulschweig. Shaeder only pretends there is to draw the fort's attention south while the ratmen attack from the north.'

'And he sends away half the fort to make it even easier for them,' said Gert. 'By the time Nuemark's forces return from their wild goose chase they will be locked out, and at the mercy of our cannon in the hands of the rats.'

Reiner motioned to the others, and they pushed out of the flow of men into a narrow alley between two cavalry barracks.

'But... but it can't be,' said Karel, catching his breath. 'The man who gave the warning was a lancer. The lancers are loyal to Gutzmann.'

'I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, lad,' said Reiner. 'But even a cavalry man can be bought.' He sighed and leaned against the wall. 'Lads, I've a feeling there's nothing left for us to do here. If Shaeder makes his move, then Gutzmann must be dead. I think our best play is to head home and report the commanders treachery to Manfred.'

'And leave the fort to the mercy of the ratmen?' asked Karel, aghast.

'What would you have us do, lad?' asked Reiner. 'We nine can't stop an army of monsters, and we've tried warning the brass already. Twice.' He looked around at the others. 'I am, of course, open to suggestions.'

The Blackhearts looked unhappy, but said nothing.

'Right then.' Reiner pushed away from the wall. 'We go. I want to return to the mine to be sure Gutzmann is dead first. Then we head north.'

The others nodded, glum. Franka shot Reiner a sharp look.

FIFTEEN

They Knew

The Blackhearts split up briefly to return to their various tents and barracks and arm themselves. Though time was of the essence, Reiner took a moment to strip out of his befouled uniform, rinse himself off, and put on fresh clothes. There really was no other option.

His pistols had been taken by his jailers and he hadn't a second pair, so for weapons he had to make do with the sword he had taken off Shaeder's man - a greatsword much too big for him. When he was ready, he borrowed a spare horse and pulled Franka up behind him. Her bow was slung across her back. They met the others again at the edge of the tent camp. They had commandeered a hay cart. Reiner was relieved to see that Giano had taken the time to clean himself as well.

There was no one to stop them leaving. The camp was nearly empty, as captains and sergeants bullied their troops into their armour and then herded them into the fort. As they rode into the pass, a bitter wind whipped up and clouds began to race across the sky. Their fat shadows slid across the jagged sunset peaks above the treeline like slugs across rough gold. Reiner cursed as he looked north. An armada of clouds was bearing down on them. The weather would be less than ideal for travelling, and he wanted to be far away before they stopped for the night.

Franka hugged Reiner's waist and leaned into his back. 'What are you up to, my lord?' she whispered. 'It isn't like you to ride into danger. You know Gutzmann's dead. There's no reason to go back to the mine.'

Reiner whispered in turn. 'Gutzmann's gold.'

She cocked an eyebrow. 'You intend to mine it yourself?'

He shook his head. 'On our way to rescuing you I discovered where the general holds it for shipment to Aulschweig. There are two crates in the closed tunnel.'

'So why lie to the others?'

'You forget the spy?'

'Isn't Abel the spy?'

Reiner shrugged. 'And if he ain't?'

'Then how do you intend to get it out without the others knowing what you do? Will the boxes fit in your pockets?'

Reiner laughed. 'I'm still working on that.'

The wind moaned through the ravine as the Blackhearts approached the mine's defensive wall. The light had faded to a bruised purple as the sun dropped behind the mountains and the clouds spread across the sky. Reiner's nerves were so on edge that he was seeing ratmen in every murky shadow and patch of scrub. The vicious vermin could pour out of the mine at any moment and slaughter them all. And he was leading his companions closer to them with every step.

Reiner shivered as they entered the compound. What a contrast to the bustling industry of yesterday. The place felt as if it had been deserted for decades. The mine's heavy iron gates hung open and squealed like doomed souls as the wind pushed at them. The shutters of the outbuildings banged open and shut. Dust devils fought in the alleys and pebbles rattled down the piles of waste rock, making the Blackhearts jump and turn.

The square black entrance of the mine looked like the maw of some great fish, a leviathan of legend, into which they were being inexorably drawn. The wind moaning across it sounded like the beast's mournful cry. Reiner and Franka dismounted as the others stepped down from their cart. Though there was no threat apparent, they all drew their weapons. Franka, Giano and Gert set arrows and bolts to their strings.

'Come on, then.' said Reiner.

Inside, the wind's moan became a roar. Reiner couldn't hear his own footsteps. The entry chamber was lit by a single flickering lantern hung from an iron hook to the right of the entrance. Its light was not enough to touch the far walls, but the mine was not entirely dark. As Reiner's eyes grew accustomed, he could see a faint glow of torchlight coming from the mouth of the third tunnel.

Pavel noticed it too. 'Is it the rats?' he asked nervously.

Reiner shook his head. 'It's torchlight. The rat light is purple.' That the source of the light was human was to some extent comforting, but it was also frustrating. Who was it? What were they doing down there? Why were they in his way? The gold was down that tunnel. Was someone else after it? 'Let's find some torches and have a look.'

But as the men stepped further in, a clash of steel and a hoarse cry cut through the wind. They froze in their tracks and looked around, weapons at the ready. It had come from within the mine, but where was hard to tell.

'A fight.' said Giano.

'That was Gutzmann's voice.' said Hals. 'I swear it.'

Karel nodded. 'I heard it too.'

The cry came again, and more clang and clatter. This time the direction was clear. The sounds were coming from the engineers' quarters - the strange subterranean townhouse.

Reiner snatched the lantern off its hook and ran for the passage that led to the house. The others pounded after him. It took a few strides for Reiner to realize that he wasn't sure what exactly he meant to do. Was he hurrying to save Gutzmann or to kill him?

As they entered the passage the sounds of fighting became clearer - grunts and cries and the clash and slither of swordplay. The beautifully carved door was half open, and the lamps within threw a hard-edged bar of light into the hall. Reiner skidded to a stop and held up his hand. The others peeked over his shoulders as he tilted his head around the door.

The beautiful stone foyer was lit with a massive marble chandelier. The parlour to the left was dark, but the dining room beyond it glowed with lamplight, and Reiner gaped at the scene revealed there. It was like a painting done by a poppy fiend in his madness. The table was set as if for a state dinner, with fine porcelain plates and goblets and flatware of silver glinting in the mellow light. Bottles of wine were open, and rich platters of meat, fish and game surrounded a central candelabrum. Each plate was filled with a half-eaten meal.

As strange as the dinner was, in the light of current events, the diners were stranger. Seated around the table was a number of ratmen, all dressed in armour and holding bloody daggers in their gnarled claws. Each of them was stone dead, hacked and pierced with horrible wounds. But what tipped the scene into lunacy was the sight of General Gutzmann, bleeding and exhausted, fighting a handful of Shaeder's Hammer Bearer greatswords around and across the table. The greatswords were comically hampered by a strange disinclination to disturb any of the particulars of the scene. They checked their swings so as not to smash any of the plates or goblets, and straightened the dead ratmen in their chairs when they bumped into them. It was this, more than any dazzling feats of swordsmanship, that was allowing Gutzmann to hold his own in such an unequal contest.

'Sigmar's beard!' whispered Karel. 'What madness is this?'

Reiner shook his head. 'I've never seen the like.' He slipped into the entryway for a better look. The others eased in behind him, hiding behind the massive granite urns and ornate stone furniture. It was hard to turn away from the scene. What did it mean, Reiner wondered? What was Shaeder up to?

'At least we haven't to sweat killing him ourselves,' chuckled Dag. 'Those lads'll do for him.'

'Are y'mad?' said Hals. 'We have to help him. Gutzmann's the only one who can save the fort!'

Pavel turned to Reiner. 'We help him, captain. Don't we?'

'We...' Reiner hesitated. What did he do? Here indeed was the salvation of the fort, but also the best opportunity yet to fulfil Manfred's orders and kill the man who was stealing the Emperor's gold, or at least see him dead. Of course, if they saved Gutzmann now, they might kill him later once he had beaten the ratmen. But the general knew their orders now. He would protect himself. Such a chance wouldn't come again. 'We...'

He looked at Franka. Her soft brown eyes had somehow grown sharp as daggers. They lanced his soul. 'We...'

There was a clatter of boots in the passage behind them. The Blackhearts turned as the front door flew open and six engineers burst in, faces flushed.

'They're coming!' cried the first, slamming the door behind him. 'Hurry! Let's be...' He stopped short as he saw who he faced.

Reiner glanced back to the dining room. Gutzmann and Shaeder's greatswords were looking into the foyer as well. For a long moment the tableau held, as each side sorted out who was who and what was what.

It was Gutzmann who broke it, by leaping up and running across the table, sending plates and goblets flying, then charging through the parlour to skid to a stop at Reiner's side.

'Kill them!' called one of the Hammers. 'They mustn't expose the plan!'

Gutzmann grinned, though it was obvious he was in pain from a dozen wounds. 'So, Hetzau. Right in all particulars. I owe you an apology.'

Reiner was embarrassed by the general's trust, for he had been thinking that he could stab him in the neck and fulfil Manfred's orders then and there. But the engineers were drawing swords and hammers and axes and advancing on them on one side, and Shaeder's greatswords were coming through the parlour on the other. Reiner needed Gutzmann's sword more than he needed him dead. And more than that, he didn'twant him dead. He felt a kinship with him. They were both bright men. They shared a wry humour. And they had both been manipulated and betrayed by Altdorf. Perhaps he wouldn't have to kill him after all. Gert's foolish notion that if the Empire was threatened here, Gutzmann would reconsider deserting, suddenly became very attractive.

'Back the way we came, lads,' said Reiner. 'Jergen, Karel. Help me hold the swordsmen. The rest, break through these ditch diggers.'

The men shifted around so that Reiner, Karel and Jergen faced the Hammer Bearers while the others jabbed at the engineers with spears, swords and axes.

Gutzmann stood shoulder to shoulder with Reiner as the Hammers closed with them. There were six of the black-clad giants. Reiner's wrist nearly snapped as he parried a cut from one. Gutzmann blocked another and riposted with ease. Wounded as he was, he looked like he could fight all night.

'I never thought I'd be glad to see anyone break out of my brig.' he said.

'Four of this lot came to kill us.' said Reiner. 'We turned the tables on them.' He ducked a slashing blade and pinked his opponent in the leg. 'We thought they'd done for you.'

Gutzmann grinned. 'They meant to. But when they took me down into the mine I started to suspect, and ran away. We've been playing hide and seek in the tunnels since.'

The engineers were falling back. Though armed and schooled as soldiers, they were not used to hand to hand combat. Hals stabbed one in the arm and he dropped his mallet. Gert brained him with his axe. Franka ducked a hammer, and was about to run her man through when Pavel pulled her back.

'Behind me, lass,' he said.

'What!' Franka shoved him. 'Don't be an ass!' She tried to squirm back around him, but he and Hals closed ranks.

Gutzmann blinked. 'Lass?'

'I'll explain later.' said Reiner.

The Blackhearts forced the engineers back while Gutzmann, Jergen, Karel and Reiner protected their rear. They could do little more than block and retire, for even Jergen was reduced to playing a defensive game against so many skilled blades. At last the engineers broke and fled out of the door. Pavel, Gert, Franka and Giano ran after them.

Hals stopped at the door. 'Clear, captain. Disengage.'

'Fall back!' shouted Reiner.

Jergen, Karel and Gutzmann jumped back from the Hammers with Reiner, and ran for the door. The greatswords lunged forward, stabbing at them as they darted through. Hals slammed the door in the Hammers' faces.

As they ran down the short hall Reiner frowned, for at the end, the rest of the Blackhearts and the last few engineers stood together, not fighting, but instead staring into the entry chamber.

'Go! Go!' called Reiner. He pushed through them, dragging at Franka, then froze as he saw why they had stopped.

'Sigmar's balls.' said Gutzmann, beside him.

The greatswords came roaring down the passage, swinging at the Blackhearts' backs.

Gutzmann spun on them, hissing. 'Quiet, you fools, or we're all dead!'

And such was his aura of command that they skidded to a stop before him.

Gutzmann pointed. 'Look.'

They looked.

It seemed, in the dark, a muddy river, flowing through the mine - a river at full flood that carried branches and trees and wagons with it. It was ratmen - so many, so densely packed, and so fleet of foot that it was difficult to see them as separate bodies. They poured out of the third tunnel in an unending tide, spears and halberds bobbing above their heads, and disappeared out of the mine entrance without break or pause. They didn't march as men. They kept to no formations. There were no ranks and files, no order, just a pulsing, fevered rush. The carts, overloaded with odd brass contraptions and strange weapons, careened through it all, pulled by scrawny, filthy rat-slaves that were harnessed to them like oxen. More frightening than the weapons were hulking, half-seen shapes, taller and more massive than men, that lurched along, roaring, as ratmen in grey robes guided them with whips and sticks.

Reiner could feel the vibration of the army's passage through his feet, like an avalanche that never stopped. And the smell was overwhelming. They seemed to push it out of the tunnel before them. It filled the entry chamber like a solid thing - a reeking, animal stink mixed with the stench of illness and death. Reiner covered his mouth. The others did the same.

Fortunately, the ratmen seemed so intent on their purpose that they looked neither left nor right, and so hadn't yet seen the men at the side of the chamber, but there were outrunners - sergeants perhaps - who loped along beside the river of rat-flesh, and it was inevitable that one of them would eventually look their way.

'Back into the house.' whispered Gutzmann. 'Quietly.'

The men backed away, Blackhearts and engineers and greatswords together, too awed by the horror before them to remember to fight each other.

As they tiptoed back into the stone house, Gutzmann turned on the Hammer Bearers, who looked sick with shock. 'You disgust me! To deliver your fellows into the hands of such monsters! How can you stand to live?'

'You have it wrong, general,' said their sergeant. 'Commander Shaeder has a plan.'

'A plan?' Gutzmann sputtered. 'What kind of plan allows these vermin to take the fort unawares?' He pointed his sword at the sergeant, then hissed and pressed his elbow to his side. 'You, Krieder. You will... You will escort me. We will take the hill track back to the fort as quickly as we may.' Below his breastplate his jerkin was red and damp. He was more wounded than he had let on.

'We cannot allow that, general,' said Krieder.

The greatswords raised their swords.

Gutzmann, Reiner and the Blackhearts went on guard as the Hammer Bearers began to close with them again. The engineers hefted their weapons again as well, but seemed reluctant to return to the melee.

A greatsword lunged at Reiner, slashing at his head. Reiner parried and dodged away, but before he could counter, a bang and a muffled shriek from the parlour made everyone jump. Reiner looked beyond the Hammers, who had stepped back again. The parlour fireplace was moving, the mantle splitting in the middle and opening out with a grinding of stone on stone, revealing a secret door.

Out of the black opening staggered an engineer, his face bloody and his clothes shredded. He dragged another, whose arm was over his shoulder, but the man was obviously beyond help. Half his skull had been blown away and his brains were spilling down his neck.

The living engineer threw out a hand to the Hammer Bearers, his eyes wild. 'Save us. We are lost. They knew!' He tripped over his friend's slack legs and fell.

Krieder ran to him and pulled him up. 'What do you say, man?' He shook him. 'Speak, damn you!'

The Hammer Bearers joined him. Gutzmann, Reiner and the rest followed them into the parlour.

The engineer's lower lip trembled. 'They knew! They swarmed the cart before we could loose it! The tunnel remains open!'

'Bones of Sigmar,' breathed the greatsword sergeant. 'This is...'

Before he could finish, a crowd of ratmen swarmed out of the secret door, looking around with darting black eyes. They stopped when they saw the men and snarled, brandishing curved swords and halberds.

'So Shaeder had a plan, did he?' said Gutzmann as the men edged back from the rats.

Sergeant Krieder dropped the dying engineer and joined his fellows. 'It wasn't to be like this.'

'I'm sure it wasn't.'

The ratmen charged, flowing around the Hammers, the Blackhearts and the engineers in a brown flood. The men slashed at them in a terrified frenzy. One of the greatswords went down immediately, a halberd in his neck. The others closed ranks. An engineer fell, screaming, pierced by two blades. Gutzmann killed a ratman, then grunted and stumbled into Reiner, his leg bleeding. Before Reiner could help him he stood again, and renewed his attack on the squirming wave of fur that surrounded them. These were not the tall black-furred killers Reiner and the others had faced before. They were of the smaller brown variety, but there were more of them.

'Protect the general!' cried Krieder, the Hammer sergeant.

His men pressed forward to form a wall around Gutzmann. They hacked down the front line of ratmen like so much underbrush.

'Bit of an... an about face hey, Krieder?' said Gutzmann. He was having trouble breathing.

'My lord,' said the Hammer sergeant, without looking around, 'we have doomed the fort through our intrigues. If we must die so that you can save it, so be it.' He decapitated a ratman. Its head spun across the room. Two more took its place.

Though the Hammer Bearers were in the thick of it, there were plenty of ratmen to go around, a seething jumble of slashing, screeching monsters. Reiner fought three, and all around him he could see the Blackhearts and the engineers kicking and hacking and stabbing. An engineer threw down his hatchet and tried to run away. The ratmen chopped him to pieces.

Franka's voice raised above the fray. 'Let me fight, curse you!'

Reiner looked around. Franka was shoving Hals and trying to dodge around him. The butt of a ratman's spear caught her in the temple. She fell.

'Franka!' Reiner cried. He fought to her and stood over her, blocking a spear that stabbed down at her.

'Sorry, captain,' said Hals. 'She won't stay back.'

'And will you let her die to keep her from fighting?'

Franka staggered to her feet as Reiner held off the rats. 'I'm all right, captain,' she said. But her hands shook as she lifted her sword.

Reiner stepped back as he parried a halberd. His calf touched an obstacle. He looked back. A stone bench.

'Draw your bow, lass,' he said. 'Get up. Gert, Dag, Giano. You too.' The four eased back and stepped onto the bench as Reiner, Gutzmann, Karel and the Hammer Bearers protected them, then wound their crossbows and nocked arrows. Pavel, Hals and Jergen took up positions behind the bench and guarded their backs. There were no engineers left standing. The bowmen fired over their protector's heads into the crowd of ratmen and loaded again.

Another Hammer Bearer went down. Only three remained, but each fallen greatsword had accounted for a handful of ratmen. The vermin lay in mounds around the survivors, but more rats stood on their dead to fight them.

Gutzmann stumbled into Reiner again, and narrowly missed being spitted by a ratman's spear. Reiner pulled him out of the way.

'My thanks,' Gutzmann said, gasping. 'Just need to catch my breath.'

'Yes, general.' But Reiner was afraid it was more than that. Gutzmann was pale and shaking.

The tide was turning. The fire of bow and crossbow was thinning the back ranks of the remaining ratmen as the Blackhearts and the Hammers cut down their front lines. But just as Reiner thought the worst might be over, Gutzmann collapsed entirely, and this time sprawled across the floor before the ratmen, utterly exposed. A rat halberdier raised his heavy weapon to stab down at him.

'No!' Krieder leapt forward and gutted the ratman, but two more ratmen gored him with swords. The Hammer sergeant vomited blood and fell across Gutzmann's body.

With a roar of anger, the last two greatswords charged into the thick of the ratmen, swinging their swords with an utter disregard for defence. One took a sword in the groin, but their opponents fell back in pieces, arms, legs and heads severed. It was too much. The ratmen broke in terror, filling the room with a horrible sweaty musk as they tried to flee back to the secret passage. They didn't make it. Franka, Gert, Giano and Dag shot them down, while Jergen, Karel, Pavel and Hals caught the ones they missed.

As the last rat fell, everyone stopped where they were, sucking air and staring around at the heaps of brown-furred bodies. Reiner felt numb, as if he had been battered by a hurricane. He wasn't yet recovered from the surprise of the ratmen's initial attack and already it was over.

'Sigmar,' said Hals, snatching up an unbroken wine bottle from the floor. 'What a dust-up!' He took a drink and held the bottle out to Reiner. 'Captain.'

Reiner reached for the bottle, then stopped. He'd almost forgotten his vow to Ranald. He let his hand drop. 'No. No thank ye.'

Hals shrugged and passed the bottle to Pavel.

As his head stopped swimming, Reiner felt again the steady throbbing vibration of the ratmen on the march. He cursed and looked for a living engineer. There were none. Only one Hammer Bearer still lived. He was rolling Krieder's body off Gutzmann. Gutzmann was wheezing wetly. The greatsword's eyes glistened with tears.

Reiner squatted beside them. 'Pardon, general,' he said, nodding to Gutzmann, then put a hand on the Hammer's shoulder. 'What was that about closing the tunnel? What was your plan?'

The Hammer Bearer looked up at him blankly.

Reiner shook him. 'Quickly, damn you!

'The-' the man swallowed. 'The engineers filled a mine cart with explosives and hid it in the secret passage where it slopes down to the ratmen's tunnel. All they had to do was light the fuse and cut the rope, and it would roll down into the tunnel and explode, bringing down the roof and trapping the ratmen inside. But they...'

'Yes. They knew. This passage?' Reiner pointed to the open fire place.

The greatsword nodded. 'At the bottom.'

Reiner looked at Gutzmann. He was very pale. 'General, can you travel?'

'I'll have to, won't I?' He said it through gritted teeth.

Reiner stood and looked around. The Blackhearts were looking a bit worse for wear. Franka had a cut on her leg, as did Hals. Dag had a bump the size of a goose egg over his temple and was weaving slightly. Jergen was wrapping his hand in strips torn from the tablecloth, and Pavel had apparently lost most of his left ear. He was wrapping his head with a strip cut from the dining room tablecloth.

Reiner sighed. 'Bind up your wounds, lads. We're not done yet. Karel. Stay here with the general. Make him ready to move.' He glared at the Hammer Bearer. 'You'll show us the way to the cart.'

SIXTEEN

Shallya Receive You

Reiner and the Blackhearts raced with the Hammer Bearer down the winding, always descending passage, torches in hand. Every second counted, for the longer they left the tunnel open the more ratmen would attack the unsuspecting fort. As they ran, the Hammer Bearer told Reiner what Shaeder had intended.

'The commander never meant to betray the Empire. He only wanted to discredit Gutzmann and prove himself to Altdorf by winning a great victory over a terrible enemy.'

'So he did all this out of jealousy?' asked Reiner, incredulous.

'Not jealousy,' said the greatsword stiffly. 'Duty. Gutzmann meant to desert. Shaeder had to stop him, but unless the general was made to look a traitor to his troops, they would have revolted, and the border would have been undefended. Shaeder didn't know how to proceed until the engineers discovered the rats.'

Reiner frowned. 'So he set up that charade with the dead ratmen and the dinner table to make it look like Gutzmann was conspiring with them?'

'Aye,' said the Hammer.

Reiner nodded. 'And he planned to bring down the tunnel after only half the rat army had come out, so the men would see the threat, and yet would have an easy victory?'

The greatsword nodded. 'Aye. You have it. Brilliant, was it not?'

'Except it didn't work,' growled Hals.

'The ratmen betrayed us,' said the Hammer Bearer, angry.

Reiner rolled his eyes. 'You shock me!'

The Hammer held up his hand and they slowed to a stop. 'Around the next bend,' he said, catching his breath.

Reiner nodded. 'Right. Giano?'

Giano handed his torch to Gert and crept forward into the darkness. After a short wait, he returned, eyes bright and eager.

'They making to be moving it. Six, seven soldier-rat, and ten maybe slave-rat,' he said. 'They putting rope on back to let down slow.' He grinned. 'We take 'em easy, hey?'

'Have they started?'

Giano shook his head.

'Good,' said Reiner. 'And the cart. It's still full of powder kegs?'

'Aye.'

Reiner grunted, satisfied. 'Right. Then we leave our torches here, and go in swift and silent. Gert, Giano, Dag and Franka, bolts and arrows on the string. The rest, stay low. The moment they see us coming, you four let fly, and we run in swinging. We want to take 'em all in the first charge, aye?'

The others nodded.

'Good, then off we go.'

The men laid their torches in a line on the floor and drew their weapons. Gert and Giano set bolts in grooves as Franka and Dag nocked arrows.

Hals glanced at Franka. 'Shouldn't the lass stay back here?'

Reiner's jaw tensed. 'We need all the cover we can muster.'

'But...'

'This isn't the time, pikeman.'

Hals grunted and looked at his boots.

'Don't worry, Hals,' said Franka. 'I'll do my best not to shoot you in the back.'

'She can put a rabbit's eye out at fifty paces,' said Pavel.

Hals glared at him.

The men started down the passage, hunched low, with Dag, Giano, Gert and Franka at the rear. Reiner, Pavel and Hals shared the front with Jergen and the greatsword. As they rounded the bend the darkness was absolute for a moment, and then a faint purple glow lit the walls ahead. A few more steps and the cart and the rats were revealed. It was as Giano had said. Seven rat soldiers stood around the cart, directing a crowd of starved and stunted rat-slaves who were tying ropes to the back of the cart, which was almost as wide as the tunnel itself. There was another rope, stouter, that was lashed to a ring set in the tunnel floor. This held the cart in place at the top of the rails that disappeared down the steep slope into darkness.

Reiner quickened his pace, but stayed on his toes, holding his sword behind him so the blade wouldn't reflect the purple light. The others sped up as well. Twenty paces to go. Fifteen.

A ratman lifted his nose, then twitched his head toward them. He squealed a warning.

'Now!' cried Reiner, and pounded forward with the others, silence forgotten.

Bolts and arrows sprouted from two ratmen's chests as they drew their swords. Then Reiner and the Hammer Bearer and the Blackhearts were among the rest. Slashing and chopping. Two more went down immediately, but the slave-rats were running every which way in a panic and got in the way. Reiner and the others kicked and shoved through a swamp of furry, filthy bodies as the last three rat soldiers retreated around the cart.

Franka, Giano, Dag and Gert leapt up onto the back of the cart. Franka and Dag fired over it at the retreating rats as Giano and Gert reloaded their crossbows. Franka hit a slave-rat.

Jergen and Reiner forced their way down the left side of the cart as the Hammer Bearer went down the right, chopping through the slave-rats like dense undergrowth. Hals and Pavel followed the Hammer, gutting the fallen, and spearing the slave-rats who tried to swarm the greatsword.

Giano and Gert fired again as Franka and Dag got off their third shots. One of the rat warriors fell with an arrow and a bolt in his back, but before the archers could load again, slave-rats crowded onto the cart, trying to escape the three swordsmen, and got in their way.

Reiner and Jergen stumbled out on the far side of the cart and lunged at the last two rat soldiers. The greatsword staggered out as well, throwing and kicking slave-rats in every direction, but one swung by his jaws from the man's neck like a pit-dog hanging from a bull. With a cry, the greatsword thrust it away and it fell to the ground, but it had a bloody chunk of his neck in its teeth. The Hammer dropped to his knees, his gloves shiny red as he tried to stop the fountain of blood that pumped from his jugular.

One of the rat soldiers hurled a dagger at Reiner. He flinched, and it spun by his ear. A slave-rat screamed behind him. Jergen ran the knife-rat through as Reiner angled for the other. It threw a glass globe at the ground and the tunnel filled with smoke. Reiner slashed where he thought the rat was, covering his nose and mouth with the crook of his arm. He hit nothing.

'Fire!' he cried. 'Fire!'

He heard bolts and arrows thrum past him into the smoke, and a rattish squeal, but couldn't tell if it had been a fatal shot.

Jergen charged into the smoke, his sword spinning in a figure eight, but Reiner heard no cries or impacts. He ran in after him, heart thudding - fighting blind was for fools. After a few steps he was beyond the smoke, but the clouds blocked the light and the tunnel was pitch black. He heard Jergen returning.

'Get him?'

'No.'

Reiner sighed and turned, stumbling over the rails. 'Then they will be coming.'

'Yes.'

The others were finishing off the last of the slave-rats as he and Jergen stepped out of the dissipating cloud.

'Clear the rails,' said Reiner. 'We must light the fuses and cut the anchor. One got away. They'll be coming back.'

The Blackhearts kicked and rolled slave-rat bodies off the rails. On the cart, Gert began checking the powder kegs. After a second, he groaned.

'Captain,' he said. 'They've pulled the match cord.'

'The what?'

'The fuses. They've taken them from the powder. And I don't see 'em.'

Reiner cursed. 'Check the bodies.'

The Blackhearts frisked all the rat-corpses, both slave and soldier, but none had the match cord.

'Captain.' said Pavel. 'They're coming.'

Reiner looked up. Far down the slanting passage a purple light was moving along the walls. 'Ranald's loaded dice!'

'Can y'just stuff bits of rag in and light them?' asked Pavel.

Reiner shook his head. The engineers would have timed it to a nicety. Too short and the cart blows before it reaches the tunnel. Too long and the rats snuff 'em when the cart hits the bottom.'

'Somebody would have to ride down with it, torch in hand.' said Franka. 'But that would be suicide.'

Reiner nodded. Someone would have to light the powder by hand just as the cart reached the ratmen's tunnel, but whoever did it... Reiner looked around, trying to decide who he could most afford to lose. His eyes fell upon Dag. The boy had been trouble from the beginning - a loose cannon who had done more harm than good, and whom no one in the company could trust. And he was fiercely - foolishly - loyal to Reiner. He would do it if Reiner asked. On the other hand, the boy was so scatterbrained and unreliable that it was better than even odds he would muck it up. He cursed. There was no time to think. He had to make a choice now. He...

'I do.' said Giano.

Everyone looked up.

'What?' said Reiner.

The Tilean was white faced. He swallowed. 'I do. This I want whole my life. I vow revenging on ratmans ever they kill my family. How I can kill more ratmans than here? With sword and bow, I kill ten, twenty, fifty? This I do, I kill hundred, thousand.'

'But, lad, you'll die,' said Hals.

Franka looked horrified. 'You can't.'

'We need you.' said Reiner. He could pick out the faces of the advancing ratmen now. There were thirty or more, all warriors.

'You need me do this.' said Giano. 'I get torch.' He turned and ran back up the corridor out of sight.

The others looked at each other blankly.

'Will you let him do this?' asked Franka.

'Someone has to.' said Reiner.

'Aye.' said Pavel, his eyes sliding toward Dag like Reiner's had done. 'But...'

'Someone who can do it.' said Reiner. He turned. 'Gert, chop open the kegs. As many as you can.'

Gert nodded and climbed on the cart, drawing his hand axe. He began staving in the tops of the kegs.

Giano reappeared carrying two torches. He hopped onto the back of the cart and swung his legs in. Jergen stepped to the anchor rope and raised his sword.

Giano faced Reiner. He swallowed again. 'Captain, you good man. I happy to fight for you. Grazie.'

'You are a good man too, Ostini. Giano.' There was a lump in Reiner's throat. He forced it down. 'Shallya receive you.'

The ratmen were a hundred paces away. They were sprinting.

Gert jumped down off the cart. 'Ready.'

Giano raised a torch in salute. 'Cut rope.'

Reiner tried to think of something noble to say, but Jergen didn't hesitate. He chopped through the heavy hawser with a single stroke and the cart began rolling down the sloping rails. Giano threw his arms wide and opened his mouth. At first Reiner thought he was screaming, but his cry became a word, and Reiner realized he was singing some wild Tilean song.

'Damned fool.' said Hals thickly.

Franka turned away, hand over her eyes. Reiner heard her sob.

The cart rapidly picked up speed. The approaching ratmen saw it coming and threw themselves to the left and right, but there were too many of them. They couldn't get out of the way. As the cart blasted through them, they were thrown up like a bow wave, pin-wheeling and smashing against the walls. Some were cut in half under the iron wheels. A few got caught on the sides and were dragged, heads bouncing and cracking as they hit each successive tie.

And then the cart was gone, vanishing into the black of the passage beyond the ratmen's purple light. Reiner stared after it for a moment, but the surviving ratmen were picking themselves up and finding their weapons.

'Right then.' he said hollowly. 'Let's be off.'

He started up the passage with the others following, their faces grim.

'But how do we know it worked?' asked Hals, as they ran. 'How do we know the poor lad didn't kill his fool self for naught?'

'We don't' said Reiner. They reached their line of torches, now two fewer. He picked one up. 'We'll just have to pray.' He looked back down the tunnel. 'Come on now, hurry. We don't want those rats catching us up. And all that powder might shake things up down-'

Before he could finish there was a huge boom, and a blast of hot air hit them like a ram. Reiner clapped his hands to his ears, which felt like they might explode from the pressure. The shock came a second later. It knocked them all off their feet. Before they hit the floor another thunderclap deafened them, and then another, each bigger than the one before. The concussions pushed them up the passage like a giant hand shoving at them. Then twin shocks shook the passage so hard that Reiner was lifted off the ground and slammed into the wall. He landed on top of Pavel, who was screaming and holding his ears. Reiner couldn't hear him.

The walls, ceiling and floor cracked, pebbles and dust sifting down on them like snow. A chunk of stone the size of Reiner's head landed next to his foot. Then all was still. Reiner stayed where he was, waiting for more explosions and working his jaw to try and pop his ears. When no blasts came, he sat up. The tunnel spun around him.

'Come on, lads,' he said, staggering to his feet. 'The place might come down any minute.'

'Hey?' said Hals, putting a hand to his ear.

'Say again?' said Gert.

'What?' said Franka.

Reiner could barely hear them. He pointed up the tunnel. 'Run!' he shouted. 'We must run!'

The others nodded and tried to stand, weaving and staggering like drunks. Reiner clung to the wall, dizzier than if he had spun in circles. They started up the hall at a zigzagging trot, stumbling over their own feet. Before they had gone twenty paces a rushing wall of smoke caught them, billowing up out of the passage. At first it had the sharp battlefield tang of blackpowder, but behind that came an eye watering alchemical stink that had them all retching and gagging. Through his tearing eyes Reiner swore that the smoke that buffeted them glowed a faint green.

'Hurry!' he choked.

They ran as hard as they could, covering their faces with their shirts and jerkins as they went.

'Must have hit one of their weird weapons.' rasped Franka beside him.

'Or a whole wagon full.' said Reiner.

They ran out of the fireplace into the parlour of the stone house to find Gutzmann lying still and alone on the floor, surrounded by mounds of dead ratmen. The room was filled with a smoky haze.

Reiner stepped to him uneasily. 'General, do you live? Where is Karel?'

Gutzmann raised his head weakly. He smiled. 'Success, then? We... felt it'.

'Aye, but...'

Karel ran in from the foyer. He saluted. 'Captain, I am glad to see you. The ratmen have stopped. After the explosion some turned back, but no more come from the tunnel.'

'Praise Sigmar.' grunted Pavel. 'Maybe Ostini didn't die for nothing.'

Karel turned to him. 'The Tilean is dead?'

'And the Hammer Bearer.' said Reiner.

Karel made the sign of the Hammer and bowed his head.

'I hope it weren't for nothing.' said Hals bitterly. 'So many got out before he blew it. Might not make a difference.'

'They were only beginning to bring their siege engines out.' said Karel. 'So we are saved that.'

'We must return to the fort... immediately.' said Gutzmann. 'But first, cut off a ratman's head and... and give it to me.'

Reiner made a face. 'Whatever for?'

'I shall show it... to the men.' Gutzmann raised an eyebrow. 'As you should have done, when... when you came to me.'

Returning to the fort was easier said than done, for though no more ratmen poured out of the tunnel, many still milled about in the entry chamber, though whether they meant to dig out their brethren or were just unwilling to continue toward the fort without the full might of their army, Reiner couldn't decide. Either way, it made exit that way an impossibility.

'The hill track.' said Gutzmann from the stretcher Pavel and Hals had made of their two spears and a red brocade drapery. A bundle of blankets shielded him against the cold. He cradled the severed head of a rat in his arms like a baby. 'The chief engineer told me once. They cut a... a hidden staircase behind an upstairs closet. It leads... to the mountainside above the... the mine, and from there to the fort.' He chuckled. 'In case of cave-in, he said. But I begin to think it had... another purpose.'

'We'll look for it.' Reiner said, wincing. Gutzmann's words bubbled in his throat and he had to take two breaths for each sentence. He was not long for the world.

After a mad search through the upstairs rooms - a series of beautiful, stonework suites that the engineers had turned into a fetid dormitory hung with grimy clothes and littered with papers, books, and the strange tools of their trade - they found the stairs at last behind a door in the back of a closet in what had once been a grand boudoir. The secret panel was opened by pressing in the eyes of a bas-relief griffin that stood rampant above the closet door. Behind it, a crude, narrow spiral staircase had been cut into the rock. It was too tight, and the angle too steep, to manoeuvre Gutzmann's stretcher, so Jergen, the sturdiest of the men, carried him on his back.

After a hundred steps, the stairway ended at a stone door. When they pressed a lever, the door swung in smoothly, revealing a small cave.

Reiner stepped into it cautiously. Some animal made the cave its home, but it was not here now. He crept to the jagged mouth and peeked out. The cave opened onto a narrow goat path high up on a sharply sloping mountainside. Below were the outbuildings and the fortifications of the mine, almost invisible in the cloud cloaked night.

Reiner beckoned the others forward and he stepped onto the path. The wind that had blown them into the mines was still whipping around the crags. He shivered as the others filed out, Hals and Pavel once again carrying Gutzmann on his stretcher.

The general pointed south. 'Follow the path. It leads to the... the hills above the fort. You will find a branch that... brings you beyond. To the Aulschweig side. As long as we still hold... the south wall...'

Reiner motioned the Blackhearts forward, then walked beside the general. 'This path allows one to circumvent the fort?'

Gutzmann grinned. 'This and others. The bandits... They go where they please. But not... not worth defending. No army could navigate... this.'

Reiner caught his balance as the wind nearly blew him off the mountain. He swallowed. 'No. I suppose not.'

They hurried on as quickly as they could, but it was difficult going, particularly for Pavel and Hals, carrying Gutzmann. There were places where the path went straight up a rock face and the general had to be passed up it from hand to hand. In other places it was barely a lip of stone on the edge of a cliff and his weight threatened to pull them into space. At one point the path went under a jutting rock and everyone had to crawl. Pavel and Hals pushed and pulled Gutzmann along on their hands and knees.

But though they bumped and jarred him, and twisted him into undignified and uncomfortable positions, not once did the general complain, only urged them to go faster.

'If those vermin have hurt my men,' he said more than once, 'I shall slaughter all of them, above and... and below ground. They shall be... wiped from the earth.'

It took the company twice as long to reach the latitude of the fort as it would have if they had walked the pass, but at last they came over the spine of a pine covered hill and saw it below them. The battle had not yet begun. The rats were still forming up in the darkness of the pass, keeping out of sight of the tent camp. They needn't have bothered. No one manned the north walls. No one was in the camp. The entire force of the fort was on the great south wall, crossbows loaded, handguns primed, cannon ready, all waiting for the Army of Aulschweig to march up the southern pass. Shaeder's ruse was a complete success.

Reiner wished he could reach out an unimaginably long arm and tap the defenders on their collective shoulder, make them turn about and take notice of the menace to their rear. But a warning was impossible. Even if he shouted at the top of his lungs no one would hear him.

'Skirmishers!' said Franka, pointing.

Reiner looked. Furtive figures were snaking through the empty camp. The first of them were already at the north wall, peeking through the undefended gate.

He turned to Gutzmann in his stretcher. 'It begins, general. We must hurry. Tell us where the path to the far side is.'

The general didn't respond.

Reiner stepped closer. 'Sir?'

Gutzmann was staring up at the stars.

Reiner knelt beside him. His hand was halfway to his mouth, which gaped open. It looked like he had paused in the middle of a cough.

'General.'

Reiner shook him. He was stiff and cold. Hals and Pavel moaned and lowered the stretcher to the ground. The others gathered around.

Reiner grunted and hung his head. 'What a bastard Sigmar is,' he said under his breath.

'Hey?' said Hals. 'Blasphemy?'

'Sigmar says he wants his champions to die fighting, and here's one of his best, and what does he do?' Reiner swallowed. 'He pinches out his flame right before the fight of his life.' Reiner looked up at the sky. 'You can kiss my arse, you great hairy ape.'

Pavel, Hals and Karel shied away from him, as if afraid they might get caught by the thunderbolt that would shortly stab out of the sky and burn Reiner to a crisp. The others shifted uncomfortably.

'We must still warn them,' said Karel at last.

'To what purpose?' said Reiner, standing. 'They'll know soon enough. Look.'

The others followed his gaze. The ratmen were on the move, a living carpet that filled the pass from wall to wall. Dotted among them were a few weird artillery pieces, but not, at least, any siege towers. Those hadn't made it out. As the rat army exited the pass it spread out like molasses spilling from a jar, and flowed through the neat ranks of tents. No alarm had yet sounded. If there had been any guards on the wall, the skirmishers had silenced them.

'But we could warn the men Shaeder sent south,' said Franka. 'If we reached them quickly enough they might make the difference.'

'Aye.' said Reiner. 'They might, but they're led by Nuemark, who is undoubtedly in on Shaeder's scheme. He'll kill us before he listens to us.'

Karel frowned. 'I think we must still try.'

Reiner nodded unhappily. 'Aye, lad. I'm afraid we must.'

'There is some cavalry there.' said Franka. 'I heard Nuemark calling the captains. They can't be in on it, can they?'

'No.' said Reiner. 'I doubt it.' He frowned, thinking. 'Matthais will be there, under Halmer. Maybe we can convince them to stage a mutiny.'

Hals cursed and looked down at Gutzmann. 'Why'd y'have to die, y'mad jagger. If it was ye coming to 'em, the whole lot'd follow you to the Chaos Wastes themselves.'

Pavel nodded. 'That they would. And I'd join 'em.'

'We'd best bring him with us.' said Reiner. 'Him and his rat head are the best evidence we have of Shaeder's treachery.'

Pavel and Hals lifted Gutzmann on their spear stretcher again, and the party started south.

SEVENTEEN

To Betray a Traitor!

The Blackhearts continued along the ridge, doing their best to find the path among the black shadows of the thick pine forest. A half league beyond the fort, they found Gutzmann's split and followed it down to the floor of the pass. Hals and Pavel continued to carry Gutzmann, but they were no longer so gentle.

Just as Reiner and the others stepped onto the road, an eerie echo of a thousand voices rose behind them. Everyone stopped and looked back towards the fort. The roar continued, punctuated with faint crashes and explosions.

Gert cursed. 'It's begun.'

Reiner nodded, a shiver running up his spine.

Hals made the sign of the hammer. 'Sigmar protect ye, lads.'

They turned and jogged quickly south, but less than a league later they slowed again. There were torches ahead. They drew their weapons. Reiner pulled Gutzmann's blankets over his face.

Four silhouettes stood before them. One held up his hand. Reiner could see he was a sergeant of pike. 'Halt! Who comes?' he said. 'Stand where you are.'

Reiner saluted and stepped into the light. 'Sergeant, we come from the fort with desperate news. The invasion from Aulschweig was a trick. We are attacked from the north instead. The detachment must return immediately.'

But the man didn't appear to be listening. He peered behind Reiner. 'Who's that behind you? How many are you?'

The others came up around Reiner.

'We are eight.' he said, continuing to walk forward. 'Now let us pass. We must deliver our message.'

'Er.' The sergeant stepped back. He shot a glance towards the trees. 'Can't allow that. We've orders to... to stop anyone who might be...' He looked at the trees again. 'Er, be an Aulschweig spy.'

Without warning Reiner leapt ahead and put his sword to the sergeant's throat. The man's companions stepped forward, crying out, but then stopped, not daring to move. The Blackhearts spread out to encircle them.

'Call 'em out.' Reiner said. 'Call 'em out or you're dead.'

The sergeant swallowed, his adam's apple pressing against the tip of Reiner's blade as he did. 'I... I don't know what you mean.'

Reiner extended his arm a little, pricking the man's skin. 'Don't you? Shall I tell you, since you've forgotten?'

The sergeant was too frightened to respond.

'You are here to stop anyone from the fort from warning Nuemark's force.' said Reiner, then stopped, holding up a hand. 'No. I am wrong. You are to let one man through. A messenger from Shaeder, who will make sure that Nuemark arrives just in the nick, and not a moment before.' He raised the sergeant's chin with his blade. 'Do I have the right of it?'

The man sighed, and waved a defeated hand towards the woods. 'Come out, Grint. Lannich. He has us.'

After a moment, there was a snapping of twigs on either side of the road and two sullen handgunners stepped out of the brush.

'We should kill you for this.' said Reiner. 'But there will be enough Empire blood spilled this day.'

'We was only following Shaeder's orders.' said the sergeant.

'To betray your general. Very nice.'

'To betray a traitor!' the sergeant said.

Reiner laughed unpleasantly. 'Well, ease your mind. Gutzmann is betrayed and Shaeder commands. But he needs your help in the fort's defence. Leave your weapons here and return. With luck, the men on the walls won't mistake you for Aulschweigers.' 'But how are we to help in the defence if you take our weapons?' the sergeant pleaded.

Reiner sneered. 'You will find plenty of weapons in the hands of the comrades who are dead by your treachery.'

The sergeant reluctantly began unbuckling his sword belt. His men followed his example.

After supplementing their kit with the guns, swords and spears of the sergeant's men, and sending them scurrying for the fort, Reiner and the Blackhearts continued south through the pass. After a quarter of an hour, the mountains began to draw in and grow steeper.

'There they are,' said Pavel, pointing forward.

The road twisted behind a screen of trees as it entered Lessner's Narrows, and the armour and helmets of soldiers glinted yellow and orange through the branches in the light of an orderly row of small campfires.

'And there.' Dag pointed towards the highest, narrowest part of the trail. Against the cloudy grey of the night sky, Reiner and the others could see the outlines of mounted scouts watching for the army that wasn't coming.

Reiner called a halt and squatted down in the road, thinking. 'There will be a picket, and it will be Nuemark's greatswords. He doesn't want any messenger to come except the one he expects. We'll need to draw 'em off.' He raised his head suddenly. 'Dag. How would you like to make a little trouble?'

Dag grinned. 'Ye want me to kill 'em for ye?'

'No, no,' said Reiner hastily. 'Only start a fight. I want you to run down the road like a madman, screaming about ratmen attacking the fort, aye?'

Dag chuckled. 'Aye.'

'Be loud. Act drunk. And when the picket comes, punch as many of them in the nose as you can, aye?'

Dag smacked his fist into his palm eagerly. 'Oh, aye. Oh, aye. Thank'ee, sir.'

Reiner looked around to be sure the rest were ready to move, then nodded at Dag. 'Right then, off you go.'

Dag giggled as he stood, and began trotting off down the road that curved around the stand of trees.

The others looked at Reiner, eyes wide.

Hals voiced what they all were thinking. 'They'll kill the boy.'

Reiner nodded. 'Oh, aye.' He stood. 'When the shouting starts, we cut through the woods. Got it?' He hoped none of them could see the flush that rose on his cheeks. As much as the lad deserved it, Reiner still felt ashamed. It was like kicking a dog who'd done wrong. The dog wouldn't understand why you hurt it.

Franka looked up at him, eyes unreadable, as the company moved towards the woods.

Reiner swallowed a growl. 'Don't tell me you're disappointed in me?'

Franka shook her head. 'No. On this I am with you.' She shuddered and squeezed his hand.

From a way off came a cry. 'Ratmen! Save us! Save us, brothers! Ratmen attack the fort! Get up ye sluggards! Ride! Ride!'

Reiner could see movement in the camp, soldiers turning their heads and standing. There were more furtive movements as well. Men in the trees closed in on the road, quietly drawing weapons.

'That's our cue,' said Reiner.

The Blackhearts started through the woods, angling away from Dag's shouting. Other voices soon joined him, shouting challenges and questions.

'Take me to Nuemark,' shouted Dag. 'I wan' tell him about the ratmen!'

The Blackhearts reached the far edge of the trees. The makeshift camp spread out before them. The infantry sat in formation on the road, looking towards Dag's shouts. The lancers waited in a slanting meadow off to the left, their horses tethered in neat lines. A small command tent had been set up between the two forces. Nuemark's Carroburg greatswords stood on guard before it.

Dag's shouts ended in a yelp of pain as Reiner peered through the trees beside the meadow, searching for Matthais among the lancers who stood or squatted by little fires, rubbing their hands and stamping their feet in the cold wind that swooped down from the mountain. At last Reiner saw him, sitting on a flat rock, talking to Captain Halmer.

Reiner groaned. Halmer had disliked him from the moment he rode out onto the parade ground that first day. Reiner didn't want to have to tell his story in front of him. He'd call for his arrest before he got out two words. But there wasn't time to wait for him to leave. The battle at the fort was raging. Every second meant more Empire men dead.

Matthais and Halmer were three ranks in. Reiner was trying to think of a way to reach them without being taken for an interloper, when the answer nearly stumbled on him. A lancer strode into the woods and began relieving himself against a tree not ten paces from the Blackhearts. They held their breath, but he didn't look their way.

When he had gone, Reiner turned and took the wrapped rat-head from Gutzmann's dead hands. He tucked it under his arm. 'Wish me luck,' he said.

The Blackhearts murmured their replies, and he started for the edge of the woods, undoing his flies. As he stepped into the meadow he began doing them up again, as if returning from a piss. No one remarked his passage. He walking as nonchalantly as he could manage to Matthais and Halmer and squatted down beside them.

'Evening, Matthais,' he said.

'Evening, lancer,' said Matthais, turning. 'What can I...' He stopped dead, his jaw hanging open. 'Rein...'

'Don't shout, lad. I beg you.'

'But you're meant to be in the brig!'

Halmer turned at that. 'Who? Isn't this...? You're Meyerling. Gutzmann put you in stir.'

Reiner nodded. 'Yes, captain. I escaped. But I have...'

'Sigmar, sir!' choked Halmer. 'You've some nerve. Where are Nuemark's guard. I'll have you...

'Please, captain, I beg you to hear me out.'

'Hear you out? I'll be damned if...'

'Sir, please. I won't fight. You can take me to Nuemark and be done with me. But I beg you to listen first.' He looked at Matthais. 'Matthais. Won't you speak for me?'

Matthais sneered. 'Why should I? You came here to assassinate the general. You lied to me.'

Halmer stood, drawing his sword. 'Enough of this. Give me your sword, villain.' 'This is not a lie,' said Reiner, angrily, and flipped open his bloody parcel. The rat-head's death filmed eyes stared blindly up at them. Matthais and Halmer gasped. Reiner closed it again.

'Now will you listen?' he asked.

Halmer sat down on the rock with a thump. He stared at the bundle. 'What... what was that.'

'A ratman,' said Matthais, wonderingly. 'So all that was true? The ratmen in the mine? Attacking the fort?'

'Ratmen don't exist,' said Halmer, angrily. 'It must be something else.'

'Would you like another look?' asked Reiner. He opened the bundle again. Halmer and Matthais stared.

Halmer shook his head, amazed. 'It seems incredible, but I must believe my own eyes.'

'Thank you, captain,' said Reiner. 'Now, believing that, will you also believe what I told Gutzmann about Shaeder? That he is in league with these horrors?'

Matthais made a face. 'But Gutzmann proved you wrong about that. Shaeder would never betray the Empire, and certainly not for gold.'

Reiner nodded. 'I was wrong about him betraying the Empire. He was betraying Gutzmann because Gutzmann was betraying the Empire. He is jealous of the general, as you may know, and so meant to ruin his name and take his position in one sly move.'

Halmer and Matthais stared at him, agog.

'Shaeder meant to allow the ratmen to attack the fort, and make it seem that Gutzmann was in league with them. Then by defeating the vermin, he would prove to Altdorf that he was the man to replace the traitor.'

Halmer closed his mouth. His lips pressed into a thin line. 'That sounds like Shaeder.'

'Unfortunately,' continued Reiner, 'he has been too clever for his own good. He planned to blow up the ratmen's tunnel before their full strength emerged, but they discovered his black powder and stopped him.'

'What!' barked Halmer.

'They...?' Matthais jumped up. 'You mean this happens now? The rats attack the fort now?'

Reiner hauled him down. 'Be quiet you fool!' He lowered his voice as nearby lancers looked around. 'Yes. The rats are attacking as we speak. Shaeder intended to call you back to make a last minute rescue, and so increase his glory, but he has many more ratmen to deal with than he expected.'

'I don't understand,' said Halmer. 'Where is the general? Is he not in command of the fort?'

'No,' said Matthais, his face falling. 'Shaeder drew him away to the mines. I remember now. He invited him to see the tunnel. The devious...'

'Gutzmann is dead,' said Reiner.

The two lancers gasped, staring.

Reiner nodded. 'He died fighting Shaeder's Hammers in the mine.' He looked toward the woods. 'My men carry him.'

Halmer and Matthais made the sign of the hammer and bowed their heads. Then Halmer stood. 'We must return at once. We must tell Nuemark.'

'But he is Shaeder's creature,' said Reiner. 'He already knows.'

'Not all. Surely when he learns that Shaeder's trick has failed...'

'If he believes it.'

There was a sudden clatter of hooves on the road. Reiner, Matthais and Halmer turned. A rider was pulling up before Nuemark's tent.

The obercaptain stepped out as if on cue. 'What news?' he asked in a loud voice. 'Is something amiss at the fort?'

Reiner rolled his eyes at this display. The man would never make an actor.

Nuemark frowned, confused, as the rider got off his horse and whispered in his ear instead of crying his news to the heavens. Reiner didn't need to read the rider's lips to know what the message was, for even in the uncertain flicker of the torches, he could see the obercaptain pale as he took it in. He looked around, then motioned to his infantry captains, and dragged the rider into his tent.

'What does he do?' asked Matthais. 'Why isn't he calling us to order? Why aren't we getting under way?'

They waited a moment, thinking the obercaptain would come out again and make his announcement, but he did not.

'He's bunking it.' said Reiner. 'He's going to cut and run.'

'Impossible.' said Halmer. 'Leaving the fort in enemy hands would be treason.'

Reiner shook his head. 'You saw the fear in him. He's in there now, looking for an excuse. I'll lay odds on it.'

'But we must go back!' Matthais insisted. He turned to Halmer. 'We can't leave when there's a chance!'

'Unfortunately I am not the obercaptain.' Halmer growled. 'I cannot give the order.' He glared at the company of greatswords standing before Nuemark's tent. 'And I wouldn't care to fight through his Carroburgers to usurp him.'

Reiner's head lifted slowly and he turned to look at the captain, eyes wide.

Halmer drew back, uneasy. 'What?'

Reiner grinned at him. 'Captain, you have given me an idea. Will you allow me?'

Halmer nodded. 'Speak.'

Reiner leaned in. 'We will need a horse, armour, a lance, and as much rope as we can gather.'

EIGHTEEN

Shoulder Your Weapons

A short while later, Infantry Obercaptain Nuemark stepped from his tent with his four infantry captains behind him. He was sweating despite the cold night. The messenger he had brought in with him was conspicuously absent.

He spoke to the cavalry captains, then mounted his horse and waited while they sent their corporals to bring the lancers and knights down to stand alongside the foot soldiers who were rising and turning to face him at their sergeants' urging.

When all were assembled, Nuemark saluted the troops and cleared his throat. 'Friends.' He tried again, raising his voice. 'Friends. Comrades. We have been betrayed by one whom we held dear. Our removal here was a trick perpetrated by General Gutzmann. There is no army coming from Aulschweig. The general has turned against us and sided with an army of monsters. The fort is overrun.'

A low, questioning murmur came from the troops, and quickly became a roar of disbelief and anger.

'Yer off yer head, Nuemark,' cried a handgunner.

The obercaptain waved his hands for silence. 'It is true! I have just received word from the fort. General Gutzmann attacked the fort at the head of an inhuman army. Lord Shaeder defended it as best he could, but at half strength he could not hold it. It is lost.'

The roar became a howl, and the troops, both infantry and cavalry surged forward. Only the curses and punches of their sergeants and corporals held them back.

'Believe me.' cried Nuemark, his hands shaking. 'I am as grieved and outraged as you are. But we cannot prevail. We must retire to Aulschweig and help Baron Caspar defend the border until word can be sent to Altdorf and reinforcements can be brought.'

'If General Gutzmann has taken the fort,' shouted a knight, 'then we are with General Gutzmann, whoever he sides with.'

'Fools! You don't understand! General Gutzmann is dead!' bellowed Nuemark. 'Killed by his vile compatriots!'

The howl dropped to a murmur as the troops took this in. They were stunned. They asked each other if such an impossible thing could be true.

Into this lull came a new voice, calling, 'General Gutzmann is not dead! The fort is not lost!'

The troops turned. Nuemark and his captains looked up.

Down the road that curved around the stand of trees came a knight on horseback, holding aloft a lance tied with pennons of blue and white. He was led by two men, and followed by a ragged company. As they walked into the light, the troops erupted in cheers, for the knight was General Gutzmann.

Reiner, holding the general's bridle, raised his voice again. 'Your general is here, lads! To lead you against the vermin who storm the fort! And against the coward Shaeder, who betrayed us all.'

The cheers echoed off the mountains. Reiner saw Captain Halmer and Matthais and their company at the front of the troops, doing as he had bidden them and crying loudly for Shaeder's head. Good men.

Nuemark was staring, his jaw unhinged. The infantry captains were the same. Reiner beamed. Was ever an entrance so perfectly timed? Had even the great Sierck ever written so stirring a scene? It was perfect. A masterpiece, worth every moment of sweat and furious, grisly effort. For it hadn't been easy. Gutzmann had been frozen with rigor mortis and they had had to break his limbs to get him into Matthais's armour. They had had to clean his face and cut off his eyelids so his eyes would stay open. Matthais had wept. Karel had vomited.

Tying the general to Halmer's second horse had been more difficult than expected as well. He weighed a ton, and tended to hang to one side. Fortunately, Matthais's cloak was made for winter weather, long and heavy, and hid a multitude of ropes, straps and stays. Unfortunately, the youth's head was smaller than Gutzmann's and they had had to force his helmet down over the general's brow most cruelly. It had been essential however. The ruse wouldn't work in full light. Not even in the flickering light of a torch. They needed the shadows of a helmet to hide the stillness of Gutzmann's face.

'Command us, general!' cried a lancer. 'Lead us to the fort.'

Reiner swallowed. Now came the hard part. He raised his voice. 'The general was terribly wounded defending the fort and cannot speak nor fight, but he can yet ride. He will lead you! He will command you! Mount up, knights and lancers. Mount up, pistoliers! Shoulder your weapons, ye pike and sword and gun! We've a battle to win!'

The troops cheered.

'Wait!' cried Nuemark, desperately trying to shout them down. He seemed totally undone by the situation. 'We dare not... we... This is madness! The fort is taken, I tell you! Even with the general at our head we cannot hope to prevail. We must retire!'

'Don't listen to him,' shouted Matthais. 'He is Shaeder's creature! He betrays us as well.'

'A lie!' yelped Nuemark. 'I only urge caution!'

'And look what he betrays us to,' said Reiner. He nodded to Franka, who stood in the shadows behind Gutzmann's horse. She stepped back, pulling surreptitiously on a rope that ran up under the general's cloak. Gutzmann's arm raised - somewhat mechanically - but at least it raised, thought Reiner, exhaling with relief. Hanging from the general's hand was the bloody head of the ratman.

'Look what foul monsters kill our brothers as we speak!'

The troops stared, repulsed, at the long-nosed, long-toothed head, with its mangy brown fur. Its black eyes glittered evilly in the torchlight, looking strangely more alive than Gutzmann's.

'The ratmen!' Reiner cried. 'The ratmen are real! They are slaying our comrades!'

The troops bellowed their fear and rage. Captain Halmer and Matthais mounted their horses and clattered to Gutzmann's side as Reiner turned Gutzmann's horse and Franka lowered his arm.

'Form up!' Halmer yelled. 'Form up behind your general, lads! We march for the fort, and victory!' He winked down at Reiner as the men cheered and began lining up in their ranks. 'Nice work, pistol. You've a talent for mummery. I'll handle him now.'

Reiner bowed, hiding a smile. The captain wasn't about to allow Reiner to be Gutzmann's voice for a second longer than necessary. He turned away as Halmer began barking at one of Matthais's lances. 'Skelditz, ride to Aulschweig and remind Baron Caspar of his sworn duty to help the Empire defend this border. Ask him to bring as many men as he can, as swiftly as he can.'

Wandering through the column in search of the Blackhearts, Reiner saw Nuemark before his tent, sitting slack on his horse. He stared at the ground while, one by one, his captains deserted him to take up command of their companies.

The Blackhearts were forming up in the last rank of the first company of pike. Reiner joined them.

'Not riding with the pistols, captain?' asked Hals.

'No fear,' said Reiner. 'I've no wish to be first in. If I thought we could get away with it, I'd wait here until it was all over. We've done our part.'

'No thank'ee,' said Pavel, grinning as he touched his missing ear. 'I owe them ratties a few lopped ears. I want at 'em.'

'Aye,' said Karel. 'Me as well.'

'And me,' said Gert.

Jergen nodded.

'Hoy, captain!' came a voice.

The company looked around. Dag was stumbling towards them, waving and grinning. He had a black eye and a missing tooth.

'I did good, hey?' he said, falling in with them.

Reiner flushed. 'Aye, it worked. Er, sorry you were ill used.'

Dag shrugged. 'Had worse.' He pointed to his purple eye. 'And I broke three of this one's fingers, so I got mine in.'

'Well, that's a comfort at least.' Reiner turned away, exchanging uncomfortable glances with the others. The boy seemed to have no inkling that Reiner had hung him out to dry.

At the head of the column, Matthais raised his bugle and blew 'forward', and the men got under way. Reiner groaned as the foot soldiers fell into a brisk trot behind the cavalry. He couldn't remember the last time he had rested. It felt a decade since they had escaped the cell under the keep, and not a single break from running, fighting and sneaking since. Oh, for the quiet life of a gambler.

The pikemen on the other hand were well rested and eager for action, inspired by the presence of General Gutzmann at their head. They made the trip back to the fort in half the time the Blackhearts had taken, and Reiner and Gert and some of the others were gasping when Halmer slowed a half a league from the fort.

Reiner looked ahead. A trio of men, wounded and ragged, had waved down the column and were now jogging beside the captain and talking to him in urgent tones. Halmer nodded and saluted, and the men stepped to the side and watched the column pass.

Reiner called out to them. 'What news, lads?'

'Bad, sir,' said one, a lanky fellow with a wounded arm. 'Very bad. The rat-things have all the fort but the keep and the main gatehouse. Even the great south wall is theirs. And there are many dead.'

Reiner saluted the man. 'Thank'ee for the warning.'

'Sigmar!' moaned Karel. 'Are we too late then?'

'They won't have an easy time breaching the keep,' said Reiner. 'There may still be hope.'

As the black battlements of the great south wall rose in the distance, Halmer stood and turned in his saddle, calling back to his captains. Reiner could only just hear him. 'Pass back General Gutzmann's commands! Cavalry will enter the fort at the charge! Infantry will follow and hold our position! Do not allow the enemy behind you!'

Halmer's captains repeated the orders to the men behind them and the command echoed down the column.

Two hundred yards out, Matthais raised his bugle again and began blowing 'rally', a three note tantara, as loud and as often as he could.

Reiner and the others craned their necks, trying to see around the horses before them. Reiner found his teeth were grinding with tension. If the ratmen had since taken the gatehouse, then this attack was over before it began. They would be locked out of their own fort, a besieging army with no ladders, siege engines or cannon.

At last Pavel breathed. 'It opens.'

Reiner leaned to one side and saw it through pumping horse legs - the iron portcullis rising, the massive oak doors behind it swinging in. He sighed with relief.

Matthais's bugle blew 'charge', and the horsemen before the Blackhearts' adopted company of pikemen began to pull away. Reiner fought down a surge of regret as he watched the lancers and pistoliers move through the familiar rising rhythms of trot, canter, and gallop. What a thrill to be sprinting in, pistols at his shoulders, closing with the enemy. But then he saw a lancer fall, and another, and heard the reports of the ratmen's jezzails firing from the walls. He shivered. Better not to be a gunner's first target.

Led by Gutzmann, who held aloft the borrowed lance in his dead hand, Halmer, Matthais and the lancers plunged into the black hole of the gate four abreast, howling fierce battle-cries. The knights and pistoliers charged in behind them without pause.

Pikemen fell, screaming, to Reiner's left and right in a rain of bullets as the company ran after the horsemen. The bullets seemed to explode on impact, ripping through breastplates as if they were muslin. At last they reached the gate and ran out of the deadly hail. The thunder of hundreds of boot heels ricocheted off the walls of the arched tunnel, almost drowning out the roar of battle that came from within. Reiner drew his pistols. Franka, Dag and Gert readied their bows and crossbows. The others drew their swords.

And then they were in.

Directly ahead, the lancers and knights hit the back of a solid mass of ratmen with an impact Reiner could feel through his feet. Rat soldiers flew through the air, blood spraying, as the first rank of knights raised them on their lances. More were crushed under the charge. Reiner saw an iron shod hoof pop a ratman's skull like an egg. The ratmen recoiled from the unexpected attack, screeching and terrified.

In the centre of the line, Gutzmann's horse reared and kicked while the general sat bolt upright, the pennons of his lance waving bravely. And it seemed that nature - or perhaps Sigmar - conspired with Reiner to help him with his grand illusion, for just as the charge hit, the clouds above the fort broke and the light of Mannslieb shot through, haloing Gutzmann in an unearthly blue-white glow. His armour gleamed, the rat head he held shone silver and black.

Rat gunners, drawing a bead on the beacon of the general's breastplate, raised their jezzails and fired. Bullets punched hole after hole in his armour, but Gutzmann remained ramrod straight, not even flinching. The ratmen before him fell back, awed, at this miracle.

Inspired by their general's superhuman fortitude, the lancers and knights pressed forward, their ardour for battle redoubled. They left their lances in the backs of the first rank of rats, then drew their swords and hammers and laid about them in a fury. The pistoliers swung left and right, emptying their pieces into the ratmen, then wheeling in to meet them sabre to sword. The infantry captains screamed at their troops to block the sides, and the four companies of pike spread out in a long curving line as the force's lone company of handgunners fired into the ratmen's right wing. Reiner and the Blackhearts ran in the last rank of their adopted pikes to close with the rats on the left.

They had to chase them, however, for already the ratmen were retreating. Panicked by the sudden shock to their rear, and as unnerved by Gutzmann's invulnerability as his troops were inspired by it, they fell back in confusion, leaving a putrid animal musk in their wake.

'By Sigmar,' said Hals. 'We've done it. They've broken.'

'To the keep! cried Halmer.

The knights and lancers surged forward, but were not able to overtake the ratmen's scampering retreat. The rest of the troops followed at a run, and found themselves stumbling over the bodies of fallen men and horses, lying on the blood slicked flagstones. They had been hacked to pieces.

Karel choked as he tripped over a gilded helm. 'Captain, look! Cavalry Obercaptain Oppenhauer! Was he caught unawares?'

Reiner looked back. Oppenhauer's round, rosy-cheeked face was gazing at the sky, an expression of horror frozen upon it. It was missing an eye, and his beard was matted with clotting blood. His breastplate was pierced with the heads of three halberds. The jolly old fellow didn't look right without a grin on his face. Reiner swallowed as he ran on. 'They're in full kit. They tried a sortie.'

'A sortie? But that is madness! A single company?'

Reiner looked darkly at the keep. 'Maybe they were ordered to.'

Karel goggled at him. 'But... but why?'

Reiner shrugged. 'Shaeder continues to remove all who might challenge him.'

Ahead of them, the sea of ratmen surrounded the keep, and lapped halfway up it like drifts of dirty brown snow. Some mounted ladders, but just as many were climbing the great piles of their dead that hugged the walls. The defenders fired down into them from the battlements, killing many, but never enough. The keep's gate burned with a weird green fire.

To the right, the stables and some of the other outbuildings were aflame as well, painting the scene a garish orange. From above, cannons roared, and stones and masonry exploded from the walls of the keep. Reiner could see ratkin crews silhouetted on the main battlements as they worked the fort's great guns.

'Our own cannon, turned against us,' said Gert, bitterly.

As they ran through their fellows, the fleeing ratkin alerted their besieging brethren to the threat at their back, and they turned, rat commanders laying about them with whips and staves and squealing orders. In seconds, what had been the ratmen's unprotected flank bristled with spears and swords.

The cavalry slammed into them first, but armed only with swords now, and facing a prepared enemy, the charge was not as successful. Reiner saw men and horses go down, impaled on the ratmen's polearms.

Next came the pikes and swords. As the Blackhearts raced toward the ratmen with their pike company, Reiner fired into the seething mass with both pistols, then holstered them and drew his sword. Gert shot his crossbow before tossing it aside to pull his axe. There would be no time to reload. Pavel and Hals began pushing up with their spears to the first rank.

Reiner cursed. 'Stay back, fools! Let the pikes make the charge!'

They ignored him.

The company hit the rat-wall as one, pikes punching their first line back into their second, but there were more behind them, and more behind those. The vermin swarmed forward, trying to overwhelm the men's line with sheer numbers.

'Don't let 'em through!' cried Reiner.

Reiner and the Blackhearts slashed and thrust from the third rank, stabbing at the vermin who attempted to get behind the front line. It mattered not where they struck, there was a furred body there to receive their blades. The ratmen went down like wheat before the reaper, but there were always more - an endless tide of monsters: yellow teeth snapping, curved swords slashing, gashing arms, biting fingers, clawing eyes. Reiner was almost instantly bleeding from a dozen wounds, and pikemen fell all around him. Hals and Pavel were stabbing and thrusting like machines. Jergen spun his sword around him with deadly grace. Gert cleft rat skulls with his axe. Dag flailed like a drunk with a fire iron. Franka lost her dagger in a ratman's ribs and was punching rats with her off hand as she blocked attacks with her short sword.

All along the line, the men of the Empire slowly brought the ratmen to a standstill, and then started to press them back. The gate of the keep was coming into reach. But just as Reiner thought they might break through, men and rats began dropping all around him, screaming and writhing, as exploding bullets ripped through them. The jezzail-rats who held the great south wall had found them. Worse, they had turned the fort's artillery away from the keep. A cannon boomed and a horse reared, its head missing. Another collapsed, legs gone. Another cannon fired and ploughed a trench through the front lines, dismembering man and ratman alike.

'Do they not care about their own troops?' asked Franka, horrified.

Reiner shrugged. 'Would even a ratman like another ratman?'

The knights and lancers redoubled their efforts to reach the keep's gate, in a frenzy now to get out of range of the gunners on the great south wall. They hacked a bloody path through the carpet of ratmen as more and more men fell under the deadly barrage. And the ratmen were flowing around the ends of the men's lines now, trying to surround them. To protect their flanks, the pike companies folded back like two wings, at last meeting behind the cavalry to form a rough square, pressed on all sides by ratmen.

Matthais's bugle blew the rally again and again as Halmer bellowed up at the keep. 'Open up! Open the gates!'

Reiner wondered if that was even possible, for behind the portcullis, the huge wooden doors were a roaring green inferno. Teams of ratmen stood before them, aiming weapons that Reiner recognized from his adventure in their tunnels. A brass tank carried by one rat, connected by a leather hose to a gun aimed by the other that painted the door with flames that stuck like syrup. The great oak beams were being eaten away, and Reiner realized with horror that the ratmen might be thin enough to fit through the iron bars of the portcullis.

'Pistoliers! Handgunners!' came Halmer's cry, and the gunners fired into the flame-crews. Four of the rats jerked and twitched as the bullets smashed into them. A flame gunner dropped his gun as he fell, and it sprayed fire all around, catching his tank-carrying comrade on fire. The burning rat danced and screeched, trying desperately to unbuckle the straps of his unwieldy canister.

The flames spread to his back, and with a blinding explosion, he was no longer there. A boiling ball of flame erupted where he had stood, and knocked the other ratmen in the vicinity flat, catching them on fire.

The first rank of knights were pushed back into the second by the blast, shrieking in pain, bits of red hot brass sticking out of their breastplates and faces. Their horses screamed as well, similarly wounded.

The way to the gate was clear, though it was still aflame. Matthais blew the rally blast again, as Halmer's force pushed forward. Halmer and the other cavalry men screamed up at the keep. 'Open the gate! Open the gate!'

The portcullis didn't move.

Matthais blew his bugle again, then shook his fist at the keep's walls. 'Let us in, curse you!' he cried. His forehead exploded in gore, and he sagged back in his saddle.

Halmer cried out. Reiner looked up. The shot had come from the keep. Someone in the murder room above the gate was shooting at the knights. Another shot fired, and another. Two hit Gutzmann, one in the head, one in the chest. The general never wavered. Matthais, however, toppled slowly off his horse and crashed to the ground, face first, his bugle rattling across the flagstones. Reiner swallowed. The poor lad. A shame for one so faithful to be so faithlessly cut down.

Another shot took Halmer in the shoulder. He gripped his arm and spurred his horse into the lee of the gate. 'What are playing at, y'madmen?' he cried. 'We come to your aid!'

Reiner groaned. He had a fair idea of who was firing on them.

More shots came, but the target was still Gutzmann. The worse problem was that if the portcullis stayed closed Halmer's force would remain completely exposed to the guns on the great south wall, which were picking them off in twos and threes. Halmer rose in his saddle and bellowed at the square of troops. 'Around the keep! Put it between you and the walls!'

The square began to shift around obediently, pressing against the wall so the pikemen only had three sides to defend. Reiner swallowed as he saw one of the giant rat-monsters wading toward them through the rat army.

'Hetzau!'

Reiner turned. Halmer was waving at him.

Reiner hurried to the captain, hunching low, though what protection that was from bullets from above he didn't know.

Halmer was in a heated discussion with the other captains as Reiner stepped up to his horse. 'It's the only way!' he barked, then turned to Reiner. 'Hetzau, you broke out of our keep. How would you like to try breaking in?'

'Er, if it's all the same to you, captain...'

'It wasn't a request, Sigmar take you! Someone must enter the keep to stop those guns and open the cursed gates, someone who ain't afraid to disobey Shaeder.'

'Yes, sir,' said Reiner. 'But how am I...?'

'There's an underground passage from the gatehouse in the great south wall to the keep dungeon.'

Reiner looked back to the gatehouse in the southern wall - the distance they had just come. There was a roiling mass of ratmen in the way. 'Sir...'

'Yes, I know,' snapped Halmer. 'We are discussing that. Someone must get you to the gatehouse, then try to retake the south wall's battlements.'

'Captain,' said a voice behind Reiner. Everyone turned. It was Nuemark. He was almost as pale as his hair. His greatswords were behind him. He swallowed and squared his shoulders. 'Captain. I... I have much to make up for. Let me and my Carroburgers do this thing.'

Halmer looked taken aback. 'Er, you... you outrank me, Obercaptain. I will not command you. But if it is your wish....'

'It is my duty.'

'Very well.' Halmer turned to Reiner. 'Gather your men. The obercaptain will escort you.'

Reiner saluted, and returned to the Blackhearts, still fighting in the last rank of their adopted pike company His stomach sank as if it had been loaded with rocks. Charging across the battlefield under heavy fire from the walls was certain death. On the other hand, staying here outside the fort was certain death as well. Better perhaps to be moving.

'Blackhearts!' he called. 'To me. General's orders.'

The Blackhearts backed out of their rank, allowing their pikeman comrades to fill their gaps, then joined him. The square had now tucked in behind the keep, out of the great south wall's line of fire, and the shooting from the keep had stopped as soon as they had moved away from the gatehouse. In fact, here, handgun and crossbow fire from the keep was supporting them, dropping rats all around Halmer's force.

'What's the job?' asked Hals.

'There's a passage into the keep dungeon from under the main gatehouse. We're to go in and open the gates.' He looked up at the walls. 'And discover who's shooting at the general.'

'A passage into...' Pavel cursed. 'Would've been nice to know that when we was trying to break out, hey?'

Reiner led them to where Nuemark was forming up his twenty greatswords. He looked even more scared than before, his face grey and slick.

Reiner saluted. 'Ready, obercaptain.'

Nuemark nodded. 'Very good.' He turned to his men. 'Swords of Carroburg, I have dishonoured your name with my cowardice today, and you should not die that I may make amends. Do not make this sacrifice for me, but to save the lives of your comrades, the men I helped betray to these foul vermin.'

The greatswords drew their weapons, their faces grim. Their sergeant saluted. 'We are ready, obercaptain.' They fell into two rows, one on either side of the Blackhearts, shields on their outer arms. One of them growled in Reiner's ear.

'Y'better be worth it, boy.'

Nuemark turned. 'Gunner captain! When you are ready.'

The captain of the handgunners nodded and signalled his men to advance to the southernmost edge of the square. Nuemark's greatswords and the Blackhearts fell in behind them. The handgunners stopped directly behind a triple rank of pikemen. Every other man knelt. 'Pikemen!' called the gunner captain. 'Make a hole!'

The pikemen looked behind them, then parted ranks. Ratmen tried to flood the hole, but they were not quick enough.

'Fire!' called the gunner captain, and his men unloaded their shot directly into the narrow gap, slaughtering four ranks of ratmen in one volley.

'In!' cried Nuemark. 'Carroburgmen charge!'

The greatswords ran into the opening made by the dying ratmen, swords high, roaring the name of their city. Reiner and the Blackhearts ran with them, hunched down to hide behind their massive, armoured bodies and their round shields. The greatswords hit the massed ratmen like a boulder smashing into a mud lake. The sound of steel chopping rat-flesh and rat-bone was music to Reiner's ears.

The party rounded the corner of the keep, a tiny raft of humanity in a swamp of vermin. The greatsword who had growled at Reiner went down beside him, a rat-spear thrust through his groin. He held his killer's severed head in his shield hand. Another Carroburger went down on the other side. The others closed ranks.

A third dropped, shrieking, as a bullet ripped through his breastplate. The metal of the breastplate seemed to melt away from the bullet, and the flesh beneath it boiled. The rats on the walls had found them. The Carroburgers raised their shields over their heads. Reiner wondered if that would help.

A rat spear darted through between two greatswords and stabbed Reiner through the thigh. He stumbled as his leg gave out, but Gert caught him and hauled him up again.

'Steady, captain.'

Reiner looked down. The wound was deep. Blood was crimsoning his leggings. 'Bollocks!' He couldn't feel it, at least. And then he could, and he grunted. It hurt like fire. He almost fell from the pain. Gert caught him again.

'Can you walk, captain?'

'I'll manage.'

Reiner limped on, his leg jolting agony with every step. Fortunately, the ratmen thinned out the closer they got to the gatehouse, for their attentions were on the keep. But in a way this was also unfortunate, for it made the men clearer targets for the gunners on the wall. Two more greatswords fell, and Dag screamed and shook his left hand. It was missing two fingers. Blood poured from the stumps.

At last they ran under the shadow of the main gate, a thick crowd of rats still harassing them. Nuemark beat on the thick gatehouse door with the pommel of his sword. 'Let us in! Let us in!'

A voice came through the studded wood. 'Commander Shaeder's orders. No one to come through this door.'

'We are on General Gutzmann's orders, curse you!' cried Nuemark. 'Let us in.'

There was a short pause, then Reiner and the others heard bolts being drawn and crossbars raised. Reiner's leg was making him feel nauseous. The gatehouse door swam before him. He gripped the wall and steadied himself.

'All right, captain?' asked Franka.

'Not in the least,' he said. 'But there's nothing for it now.'

The door opened to reveal a few terrified guardsmen. Nuemark shoved Reiner through. 'Skirmishers. In. Hurry.'

The Blackhearts pushed in behind Reiner and turned. It was a tiny room, already crowded with guardsmen, who had to press into the corners to make room for the new arrivals. There was a table and chairs in the centre, racks of weapons on the walls, and a spiral staircase in one corner that led to the battlements. The left wall was filled with the machinery that raised and lowered the portcullises.

The greatswords made to follow the Blackhearts in, but the rats, seeing an opportunity to take the room, attacked furiously. Another greatsword went down. The rest faced out, chopping into the mass of rats.

'In, curse you!' roared Nuemark. His knees were shaking. He nearly lost his grip on his sword.

One by one the greatswords backed into the door as Pavel and Hals stabbed at the rats over their shoulders with their spears. But with each one through the door, those left outside were pressed all the harder. Another went down, and another. At last there was only Nuemark and one other, and the rats were beginning to slip around them.

Nuemark pushed his last man through the door. 'Close it! Close it, you fools,' he cried. He was weeping with fear, but he never stopped slashing with his sword.

The greatsword sergeant slammed the door shut and the gatehouse guards dropped the heavy bar.

Through the thick oak, Nuemark's voice rose to a wail. 'Sigmar forgive me! Sigmar forgive...' His words were cut short as the sound of halberds cutting through armour and into human flesh made every man in the cramped room shudder.

Nuemark's sergeant made the sign of the hammer as he finished his captain's plea. 'Sigmar forgive him.'

'We could have had him in,' said Hals.

'He didn't wish it,' said the greatsword sergeant.

Reiner collapsed on the stone stairs and cut at his leggings, exposing his wound. A ragged trench had been dug in his left thigh by the spear. The very sight of it made the pain worse. Franka hissed when she saw it.

With more than twenty men in it, the room was terribly cramped. A few of the greatswords were seeing to wounds of their own. Dag was giggling hysterically as he tied his kerchief over the stumps of his missing third and fourth fingers.

'All right, archer?' asked Reiner as he stripped out of his jacket and tore the sleeve from his shirt.

Dag grinned glassily and held up his ruined hand, waggling his first and middle finger. 'Fine, captain. Still have my shooting fingers.'

Reiner ripped his sleeve into strips. He glanced up at the guardsmen. 'Have any of you some water? Or better yet, kirschwasser?'

A guard pulled a flask from a cupboard and handed it to him. Reiner uncapped it, and had it halfway to his lips before he remembered his vow. He cursed. Damn Ranald anyway, another nine hundred and ninety-six men at least before he could drink again. What had he been thinking? He poured the liquor on the wound. It stung like wet ice. Reiner hissed. Franka tied the strips of cloth tight around the wound. Reiner's vision eclipsed at the pain, and he turned quickly away to avoid vomiting on her. He vomited on Pavel instead.

'Thank you very much,' said the pikeman, recoiling.

'Sorry lad. Surprised me, too.' He pushed himself up and faced the guard room sergeant. His leg screamed but held. 'Where is this trap?' he asked through clenched teeth.

The sergeant pointed to a rack of spears built into the wall. 'Lundt. Corbin. Open the bolt hole.'

Two guardsmen tugged four heavy pegs from the frame of the rack then lifted it away from the wall, revealing a narrow staircase that descended into darkness.

'So Gutzmann's alive?' asked the guard sergeant.

'Aye,' said Reiner as he helped Gert to his feet. 'And he commands you hold this door at all costs. Let no rat in.'

'Aye, sir. No fear of that.'

The Blackhearts and Nuemark's greatswords stood and made themselves ready. Reiner saluted their sergeant. 'Thank you for the escort,' he said. 'Sigmar watch you.'

'And you as well,' said the greatsword. He turned and led his men up the stairs.

Jergen stood and faced Reiner. 'Captain.'

Reiner nearly jumped out of his skin. He wasn't sure the swordsman had ever addressed him voluntarily before. 'Aye, Rohmner?'

Jergen nodded at the greatswords. 'I will be best used with them.'

Reiner looked at the greatsword sergeant. 'Will you have him?'

'Can he fight?'

'Like several tigers.'

The greatsword chuckled. 'Then fall in, bravo.'

Jergen joined the men climbing the stairs.

Reiner turned to the Blackhearts. 'Ready, lads?'

They nodded. Reiner took a torch from the gatehouse wall, then ducked through the secret door and they all went down into the dark.

The passage was narrow and direct. At the end, there was a second staircase and a door in the ceiling. Reiner found the catch and shot it back, then pressed his back against the door. It didn't budge.

'Steingesser. Kiir,' he called, limping down. Gert and Hals squeezed around the others and stepped up to the trap. They pushed with hands and shoulders.

A muffled 'Hoy!' came from above, and they heard a confusion of steps.

The trap slammed open, and a ring of handgunners aimed down at them, fingers on their triggers. Gert and Hals threw up their hands.

Reiner did too. 'Hold, brothers. We are men.'

The handgunners eased back, but continued to look at them warily. 'What men are ye?' asked a sergeant.

'I bring a message for Commander Shaeder,' said Reiner as he and his companions stepped slowly up the stairs. They were coming up in the guardroom just outside the cell Gutzmann had imprisoned them in the night before. The room was packed with a company of handgunners, sitting in rows with their guns across their laps. Gert and Hals had apparently lifted a few of them along with the trap. Their sergeants were their only commanders.

'Is the battle over?' asked a redheaded sergeant.

'What?' said Reiner. 'Hardly. What are you doing down here? Where is your captain?'

'We was told to bide here 'til the order came to retake the walls, sir,' said the sergeant, saluting. 'But it never come. Captain Baer went to ask, but he ain't come back.' He coughed, nervous. 'Er, is it true the general's returned, sir?'

'Aye, sergeant.' said Reiner, smiling as big as he could manage. 'Returned to lead us, and he commands you to take the great south wall. There's a company of greatswords clearing the way for you now. Away with you. And Sigmar guide your aim!'

'But our captains...'

'There's no time. I'll send 'em after you. Go. Go!'

'Aye, sir!' said the sergeant, grinning. 'This way, lads! Action at last!'

The handgunners jumped up, relieved to be doing something, and began clattering into the trap after him.

Reiner and the others hurried for stairs.

Franka shook her head. 'I don't understand. I know Shaeder wished to kill Gutzmann. But at the cost of killing himself as well?'

Reiner shrugged. He had no answer for her.

The gate at the top of the stairs was open and there was no guard. The boom of guns and a buzz of voices echoed from outside, but the hallway was empty. Reiner held up his hand, then crept forward. The door into the dining hall was open. They looked in. The room was packed with pikemen, all staring glumly towards the main entrance.

The fort shuddered as a cannon ball struck it.

'The ratmen still control the guns, then,' said Karel.

'Jergen'll see to them,' said Hals, then spat to be sure he hadn't cursed the swordsman by speaking too quickly.

The Blackhearts passed on to the courtyard door and looked out. A crowd of lancers and pistoliers filled it, waiting on their horses in full kit, but like the handgunners in the dungeon, they had no captains. They were rigid with tension, every fibre ready to charge out, but instead only their eyes moved, darting from a knot of men banging on the north door of the murder room, to the burning doors of the gate, which looked about to collapse, to the clamour of desperate battle coming from over the north wall, where Halmer's force fought the rat army. Reiner could see that the thud and clash of weapons, the screams of men and horses, the high chittering of rats, were driving the cavalry men insane. Their fellows were dying not twenty yards away, and they could do nothing but sit and listen.

Reiner's pistolier company was near the door, arguing amongst themselves as they watched the walls.

'Hist!' Reiner called, stepping out. 'Grau!'

The corporal turned. Reiner beckoned him over. He dismounted and hurried to the door. Two of his men came with him.

'Where have you been, Meyerling?' asked Grau. 'Vortmunder's been calling for your head.'

'Never mind that. What's all this? Gutzmann's getting chopped to bits outside. Why do you not ride out?'

'We want to,' said Grau, angrily. 'But Shaeder's lads have barricaded themselves in the murder room and that is where the winches are. He's locked us in, the traitor.'

'Shaeder ain't a traitor,' said Yoeder. 'It's a trap, like he said. Aulschweig men, dressed up as Reiksmen to lure us out to our doom.'

'Yer mad,' said the third, a stout fair-haired man Reiner didn't know. 'That's Gutzmann out there. I saw his face.'

'It ain't!' said Yeoder. 'Gutzmann couldn't ride so poor if he tried. Damned imposter sits a horse like he's made of sticks.'

'It is Gutzmann,' said Reiner. 'I've just come from him. He's grievously wounded, but he wouldn't stay away while you were trapped here.'

Yeoder stared at him. 'It's Gutzmann? Truly?'

'Truly.'

Grau cursed. 'Some of the captains are up trying to break down the door. The rest are in arguing with Shaeder in Gutzmann's quarters.'

Reiner pushed a hand through his hair. 'This is madness. You must ride out.'

'Too bad old Urquart ain't still with us,' said Pavel. 'He'd knock them doors down with one swing.'

'If only we had one of them glass balls the ratties got,' said Hals. 'We could smoke 'em out.'

Reiner looked at him, eyebrows raising, 'Amazing. A pikeman with a brain.' He turned, looking around the courtyard intently. 'Franka, a feedbag from the stables. And fill it with hay. Oh, and a good length of rope. Karel, a keg of powder from the armoury if you please. Pavel and Hals, lamp oil and bacon fat from the kitchen. As much as you can carry. And a big pot. Hurry. Meet us on the wall at the south door. Aye?'

As they ran off, the gate's wooden doors finally collapsed with a great roaring and eruption of sparks. Through the smoking rubble Reiner saw the forms of ratmen trying to eel through the bars of the portcullis. 'And pray we are not too late.'

NINETEEN

All Must Die!

Reiner, Dag and Gert ran up the stairs to the murder room as sergeants called squads of handgunners and swordsmen to defend the gate below it. The gunners fired through the inner portcullis at the ratmen that squirmed through the outer one. The murder room had two heavy, banded doors that opened onto the battlements to its left and right. Narrow arrow slot windows pierced the inner and outer walls. There were no other openings. Reiner listened at the south door when they reached it. He could hear the captains pounding uselessly on the north door and demanding that the men inside let them in. There was an iron ladder bolted to the wall. He looked up it then turned to the others.

'Dag, I'll have you here. Gert, can you make it onto the roof?'

Gert scowled. 'Ain't that fat, captain.' He started up the ladder.

Franka was first to return to them, a coil of rope slung over her shoulder and a leather feedbag stuffed with hay dangling from one hand.

'Good, lad. Er, lass,' said Reiner. 'Now get that rope around your waist.'

'What?' Franka looked alarmed.

'Not afraid of heights, are you?'

'No, but...'

'Once knew a topside monkey with a second storey mob. Made his living this way. Here, let me tie you off.'

Karel came back next, holding a keg of powder like a baby.

'Now pour as much of that as you can down into the hay,' said Reiner. 'But don't pack it.'

Pavel and Hals ran up just as Karel was finishing. Hals had two jugs of lamp oil. Pavel carried a big iron pot with a jar of drippings in it.

Reiner grinned. 'Excellent. Pavel, smear some fat on the bag. Hals, pour the lamp oil in the pot.'

Pavel made a face, but dug some of the fat out with his dagger and scraped it off onto the bag as Hals filled the big pot. When he was done, Reiner took the bag and lowered it into the pot of oil, pushing it down with the butt end of Pavel's spear until the hay and the leather were well saturated with the volatile oil.

As Reiner was lifting the bag out, Pavel raised his head. 'The cannon have stopped.'

Reiner cocked his head. It was true. The guns on the great south wall had gone silent.

Hals grinned. 'That's our Jergen. Lets his sword do his talking.'

Reiner hung the dripping bag from the point of the spear. The fumes made his eyes water. He stood. 'Hals, Pavel, Karel, stay here with Dag, ready to run in when the villains run out. Franka, up the ladder. I'll hand your weapon to you.'

Franka looked at him askance as she climbed the ladder. 'I begin to like this less and less.'

Reiner handed the spear up to her, then climbed up himself, carrying his torch. He stepped to the courtyard edge and looked over. Franka joined him. She swallowed. It was a long way down.

'Sorry, beloved,' he said. 'You are the lightest.'

He handed the end of her rope to Gert. 'Keep it taut, and pay it out slowly when I tell you.'

Gert gathered up the slack. 'Aye, captain.'

Reiner turned to Franka. 'Ready?'

Franka made Myrmidia's sign, then stepped up onto the wall, her back to the courtyard, and held the spear out to her side. 'Ready.'

Reiner crossed his fingers to Ranald and held the torch under the feed bag. The oil caught with a whump and a ball of fire boiled up from the bag, followed by oily black smoke.

'Lower away.'

Franka stepped backward off the wall as Gert let out the rope, and as Reiner watched, walked slowly down the wall, the bag roaring and smoking at the end of the spear like a filthy comet. The entire courtyard was watching as well, the pale, upturned faces of the lancers and pistoliers frowning in confusion.

A few more steps and Franka was at the level of the window slots.

'Now lass! Now!'

Franka jammed the spear point into the window on the left. For a moment Reiner thought all was lost, for the flaming bag became caught between the bars, but Franka pulled the spear back and stuffed the burning mess through like a handgunner jamming wadding into his barrel.

The violence of her action caused Franka to lose her footing, and she banged against the wall, dropping the spear.

'Up!' Reiner called over his shoulder. 'Pull her up!'

Gert hauled away. Reiner held down his hand and caught Franka's wrist as she bumped up the rough wall.

'Did it work?' asked Gert, when Franka had tumbled over onto the roof.

Reiner looked over. Black smoke was beginning to curl out of the murder room windows, and he could hear shouts and choking from below. He grinned. 'I believe it did. Ware the doors!' He cried.

He helped Franka up, and they stepped with Gert to the ladder and looked down. With a frantic turning of bolts and scraping of bars, the door flew open and three Hammer Bearers flew out, gasping and retching, accompanied by a great cloud of greasy black smoke. They were in no mood to fight, and Karel, Pavel and Hals just pushed through them as they stumbled past, coughing and weeping sooty tears.

Reiner heard the south door crashing open as well, and a cheer going up from the men outside it. He clambered down the ladder and snatched Hals's spear, then dashed into the room, ducking low and covering his mouth and nose. The burning bag was under the courtyard-side windows. He stuck it with the spear and hurried back to the door, his eyes streaming, and flipped it out over the battlements.

'In lads!' he coughed, beckoning them. 'Man the winches!'

The Blackhearts ran in, stepping to the great spoked wheels that raised the two portcullises. They fell to with a will, pulling on the spokes with all their might, and a great cheer came from the troops in the courtyard below.

More men ran into the room from the south door - the captains. Vortmunder was at their head.

'Meyerling!' he cried. 'You surface at last! Good work! I'll take a day off your stable duty for this.'

Reiner saluted. 'Thank you, captain! May I suggest you return to your company. Your way will be clear momentarily.'

'Very good! Carry on.'

Just then the cheers in the courtyard turned to shouts of alarm. Reiner, Vortmunder and the other captains ran out and looked down. Squirming under the slowly raising portcullis was a spreading tide of ratmen. The handgunners were falling back as a company of swordsmen ran in to meet the invasion. Steel clashed on steel.

Vortmunder turned to Reiner. 'Raise it as fast as you can, corporal, so that we may charge.' He ran off with the other captains.

Reiner ran into the murder room. 'Put your backs into it, lads. We...'

'What is this!' cried a voice. 'Who disobeys my orders?'

Reiner looked up. Standing in the south door was a crazed figure. It took a moment for Reiner to realize it was Shaeder. His grey hair was disordered, his eyes wild. He looked like he had aged ten years in a night. He stepped into the room, drawing his sword. The Hammer Bearers who had held the murder room came in behind him, as did their glowering, white-bearded captain.

'Lower those portcullis, curse you!' shouted Shaeder, and lunged at Dag, who was hauling one-handed on the left-hand wheel with Gert and Franka.

'Sod off, y'berk!' said Dag, and punched him in the nose with his ruined hand as the others turned, drawing their weapons. The wheels stopped.

Shaeder stepped back, cursing, blood running over his lips. 'You... you dare? You peasant.' He ran Dag through the chest. A bright spike of steel sprouted from the archer's back. He convulsed, vomiting blood, then raised his head and sneered through bloody teeth. 'Get stuffed.' He poked Shaeder in the eyes with his two remaining fingers.

Shaeder howled and jerked back, clutching his face. Dag dropped off Shaeder's sword and flopped bonelessly to the floor, dead. An unexpected pang of sadness struck Reiner at the sight. He had spent all the time that he had known Dag trying to be rid of him. The boy had been a dangerous madman, but dead, Reiner felt a strange fondness for him. He chuckled sadly to himself. That was the best way, really. Better for Dag to be dead and miss him, than have him running around wreaking havoc.

Shaeder and his Hammer Bearers attacked the Blackhearts on the wheels. Shaeder flailed wildly, half-blind. The Blackhearts defended themselves. A cry of dismay came from the courtyard as the wheels started to spin backwards.

'Damn you, Shaeder!' Reiner ran forward, swinging his sword. He caught Shaeder's blade before it came down on Pavel's head. 'Gert! Hals! Franka! Stay on the wheels. The rest, defend them!' The Blackhearts turned to their tasks as Reiner thrust savagely at Shaeder, 'What ails you? We must attack!'

Shaeder riposted, forcing Reiner back. The whites of his eyes were blood red. 'No! We must die! All must die!'

'You're mad. We might still win.' Reiner parried desperately. Mad or not, Shaeder was still the better swordsman, and his frenzy gave him strength.

'And have Altdorf learn of this?' Spittle flew from Shaeder's lips with each word. 'No one must survive to get word back. They won't understand. They won't see that it was Gutzmann who was the traitor, and I the patriot! We will stay here until the rats overwhelm us!'

The Hammer Bearers shot uneasy glances at him. Their swords faltered. 'Do we not wait for Gutzmann to be defeated?' asked the white-bearded captain. 'You said Aulschweig came to reinforce us.'

'I said what was necessary.'

Reiner sneered. 'So you kill an entire garrison to hide your foolish manipulations? You are worse than a traitor. You are a bad general.'

Shaeder's eyes went wide. 'Villain! Take back that slander!' He rushed forward, swinging wildly. Reiner caught Shaeder's blade on his hilt, and his shoulder on his chest. The commander clawed for his dagger.

Reiner got his boot up between them and kicked with all his might. Shaeder flew back, flailing for balance. He stopped in the door - or rather, something stopped him. The doorway was filled with dark, hunched figures.

Shaeder looked around as clawed hands gripped his arms and legs. 'Who...?'

Reiner and the Blackhearts and the Hammer Bearers stared as a jagged bronze blade reached from behind the commander and sawed his neck open from ear to ear. Ratmen poured into the room over his body before his blood began to flow.

There was a cry from the courtyard. 'They're over the walls!'

The Hammer Bearers stood shoulder to shoulder with the Blackhearts to meet the ratmen's charge. Hals, Franka and Gert left the wheels to help.

'No!' Reiner ran forward. 'Keep turning! We'll hold 'em back!'

Hals cursed. 'But, captain...'

'You've the strongest back, laddie.' Reiner cleft a ratman's skull to its curved front teeth as he joined the line. 'Push 'em out! Franka! Close the other door!'

Franka ran to the north door. She slammed and locked it as Hals and Gert hauled on their wheels. With only one man turning each, they raised by inches instead of feet at a pull.

Reiner found himself fighting beside the captain of the Hammer Bearers.

'I swear to you,' the captain said, 'I swear we didn't know.'

The ratmen swarmed around them, trying to reach the wheels and cut at the ropes. Reiner cut one down and kicked a second back. Karel blocked a bronze halberd and gutted its owner. Pavel wielded his spear like a quarterstaff, knocking heads left and right. The Hammer Bearers stabbed and sliced around them like men possessed. One went down, impaled on a hooked spear. Reiner feared it was all in vain. More and more ratmen were squeezing through the door.

An arrow sprouted from the eye of a rat swinging a cutlass at Reiner. It fell, shrieking.

'Franz,' Reiner called over his shoulder. 'Get back to your wheel!' 'No, captain,' said Franka.

Another arrow appeared in a rat's throat.

Reiner grunted. Even with her arrows they were certain to be overwhelmed. But just as he thought it, the ratmen who still filled the door began turning and squealing. Battle cries echoed into the room from the battlements.

'For Gutzmann!'

'For the Empire!'

Reiner's heart leapt. The keep's sword company! He raised his voice in answer. 'For the Empire! For Gutzmann!'

The others joined him. 'For Gutzmann! For the Empire!'

Outside, the swordsmen cheered.

Reiner could see a wave of panic ripple through the ratmen as they realized they were caught between two forces. They began slashing about themselves in a frenzy, striking at their comrades as often as their foes. Reiner caught a wild slash in the forearm. He dodged back.

'Press forward as one!' cried the leader of the Hammer Bearers. They and the Blackhearts walked forward, jabbing at the ratmen in unison until the vermin fought each other to get out of the door and collided with those who were fighting to get in. Through the doorway, Reiner saw the swordsmen on the battlements, holding off a wave of ratmen that were pouring over the wall.

'Franz! The door!'

'Aye, captain.'

As Reiner and the others backed the ratmen into the doorway, Franka edged around and squeezed behind the door. She began pushing it closed. Reiner stood at its edge, defending her and adding his shoulder to her weight, but there were too many ratmen in the way.

Reiner waved at the Blackhearts and the Hammers. 'Jump back! All at once!'

Pavel scowled at him. 'Hey?'

'Trust me, curse you! Jump back! Now!'

The Blackhearts jumped back. Shaeder's Hammers were only a step slower. The ratmen in the door, suddenly without resistance before them, stumbled forward into the room, off balance.

'Now!'

Reiner and Franka pushed at the door as one and got it nearly closed before it hit the crowd of ratmen beyond it. It started opening again. The Hammers waded into the ratmen in the centre of the room. Pavel and Hals dodged around them and charged into the door, slamming it closed. Outside, a ratman shrieked. Reiner looked down. A naked pink tail lay on the floor, severed from its owner.

Reiner turned the lock. Franka dropped the bar. They ran back with Pavel and Hals to the wheels as the Hammer Bearers finished off the remaining ratmen. The Blackhearts threw down their weapons and pulled on the spokes for all they were worth. After a moment the Hammers joined them.

A roar of triumph rose from the courtyard as the wheels jarred to a stop. The portcullises were open at last. A horn blew 'charge' and hooves thundered below them.

Reiner locked his wheel and breathed a sigh of relief. Gert did the same at the other wheel. The Blackhearts ran to the arrow slots, but could see nothing. Franka darted to the south door and threw it open. The Blackhearts and the Hammer Bearers ran out and looked over the parapet, craning their necks to see the scene below. The lancers were already through the gate, wheeling left toward the thick ring of ratmen that surrounded the ragged remains of Halmer's square. The pistoliers were right behind them, arcing wide to broadside the ratmen as they raced past. Next came a stream of pikemen, ten wide, running at full charge. The Blackhearts and the Hammer Bearers joined the swordsmen cheering them from the walls.

The companies hit the rats' flank with a devastating triple impact, all their enforced inaction and pent up rage exploding in bloodthirsty fury. The rats fell before them like trampled grass, crushed under the hooves of the lancers, riddled with bullets from the pistoliers, and impaled by rank after rank of pike.

It was too much. The ratmen had expected the battle to be over almost as soon as it had begun. Instead they had fought Halmer's troops to a standstill for more than a quarter of an hour, all the while taking heavy crossbow fire from the walls of the keep, and now fresh troops were crashing into their rear. The ratmen turned and fled before the charge. Seeing them flee, their brethren fled too, and soon the entire rat army was scrambling away, some on all fours, in full rout, with the lancers and pistoliers chasing them down.

Reiner would have wagered that Halmer's men would have called it a day and let their comrades finish the job, but to his surprise, they joined the pikemen and trotted north after the cavalry. At least those still standing did. At Reiner's guess, more than half the men who had ridden into the fort with Halmer lay dead or wounded below the wall of the keep. Others were too tired to move and sat down unheeding among the broken bodies and spilled viscera of their enemies and friends.

Hals let out a huge sigh. 'So we did it, then.'

Reiner nodded and closed his eyes. He leaned against the battlement. 'Aye. Well done, lads. Well done.'

'Manfred damned well better thank us for this one,' said Pavel.

'Aye,' agreed Franka.

'It weren't the job he sent us on, that's certain,' said Gert.

'Oh, Sigmar,' said Karel. Reiner thought he was about to kneel in prayer, but the boy sobbed and retched. 'Oh, Sigmar, they're eating them.'

'What's the matter?' Reiner opened his eyes. 'Who's eating who?'

Karel was looking over the wall. 'The rats. They're eating the dead.'

'The rats?' asked Reiner, turning with the others to look. 'The ratmen?'

'No. Rats. Big rats.'

Franka choked. 'They're eating Matthais!'

TWENTY

Heroic Deeds

The Blackhearts ran down to the courtyard and out of the keep. The grounds of the fort were strewn with the dead and dying. Men and ratmen lay in long heaps of bodies that defined where the lines of battle had been, highest where the fighting had been the fiercest. To the left of the gate was the place Halmer had called to the keep to open the portcullis.

Reiner peered at the bodies there. Things were moving among them, but he didn't wish to believe they were rats. They were the size of pit dogs, and as muscular. They scurried over the bodies, gnawing and clawing at them. And they didn't just prey on the dead. Reiner saw a wounded man try to push away a rat with feeble strength. The rat sat on his chest and chewed through his throat.

'It's horrible,' muttered Franka. 'Horrible.'

'Begone, beasts!' cried Karel, stamping his feet and waving his sword.

The rats looked up, but failed to run at his advance. Their eyes glowed red in the light from the keep's gate.

Reiner grunted and waved the others ahead. 'We get Matthais, but no more. There are too many. We'll tell someone once we're back inside.'

As they started moving through the bodies, Reiner saw Jergen crossing towards them. He saluted as he approached.

'Rohmner,' Reiner said, nodding. 'How went the battle for the walls?'

'Well.'

Reiner snorted. 'A veritable fountain of words, aren't you, Rohmner?'

Jergen nodded, then fell in with the others. Reiner sighed. The man was unreachable.

After a moment, Reiner saw the body of Matthais's horse. They picked their way to it, keeping wary eyes and weapons on the huge rats. Matthais lay behind it, almost lost in shadow but for the bright, straight line of his sword. Two huge rats hunched over him, one chewing on a leg, the other on an arm.

'Shoo!' called Karel. 'Go away, you horrible things!'

'Ware, laddie,' said Reiner.

He hurried after him, stepping on bodies as he went. One squealed and squirmed. Reiner stopped and turned. The squeal had not been human. A plump ratman in long robes knelt among the bodies, a scalpel in its hands, a handgunner neatly laid open before it. It blinked up at Reiner through thick spectacles. Reiner frowned. He knew this creature.

'The surgeon!' cried Franka. She started forward, her teeth bared. 'I want his spleen!'

The ratman snarled in anger, and started to crab backwards.

Franka lunged at it, slashing with dagger and short sword. The rat scrambled away with surprising speed, chittering in his own tongue and pointing at the Blackhearts. The giant rats looked up like dogs hearing their master's voice, then leapt to the attack.

Reiner sprang back, slashing at three rats that snapped at his legs. The others were similarly infested.

'Ahoy the keep!' Reiner cried. 'Help us!' No one responded. He cursed. 'Back to the fort!'

But it was difficult to disengage. Hals pinned a rat to the ground but another had him by the boot. Pavel flung one over his shoulder on the point of his spear. A second jumped on his back. Franka kicked one back and stabbed another as she tried to reach the surgeon. Gert hacked one with his axe and stomped another flat. Two more leapt at his chest. Jergen decapitated one and cut another in two. He stepped toward Pavel to help him with his. Karel cut at two, backing away from their claws and teeth. A huge shadow loomed out of the darkness behind him. He didn't see it.

'Lad!' called Reiner. 'Behind you!'

Karel turned, and ducked a great, chisel-shaped claw. The monster slashed at him again. The thing was the size of an ogre, rippling with fur-covered muscles. Karel dodged back, then lunged at it, slashing it across the arm. It roared and attacked.

Reiner rushed in with Franka and Jergen, but before they could reach the beast, the surgeon skittered ahead of them. 'Such brave,' it cried. 'Such courage! Take! Take!' It gibbered an order at the rat-ogre, and the thing curled its fist and clubbed Karel to the ground instead of gutting him. The boy's sword clattered to the flagstones.

Reiner tripped on a pile of bodies trying to reach the monster. He fell. Jergen leapt the pile and swung at the beast, gashing its shoulder. It backhanded him, knocking him into Pavel and Franka.

Before they could regain their feet, the rat-ogre caught up Karel's limp form with one claw while the surgeon clambered up on its shoulders. The ratman rapped his monstrous mount on the head with his bony knuckles and pointed to the north wall, squeaking all the while. The beast vaulted over a dead horse and disappeared into the shadows, Karel tucked under one arm. The giant rats ran behind it in a bounding carpet.

Reiner clenched his fists. 'Curse the boy! The battle's won! The day is saved! Why does he have to go and get himself taken now?' He looked around at the Blackhearts. They were waiting, expectant. He sighed. 'All right. Come on.'

They ran for the north gate, Reiner's wounded leg screaming with each step, as stiff as a tree branch.

The pass was strewn with dead ratmen. Their panic had apparently not abated, for they had all been cut down from behind. Reiner and the Blackhearts jogged through it, peering ahead anxiously into the darkness. Only occasionally did the clouds part to allow them to see their quarry bounding before them. They were gaining on the rat-monster, but slowly. Reiner's breath was like knives in his throat. He couldn't remember when he had run more in one night.

They veered into the branching ravine that led to the mine. The dead rats were thicker here where the narrowing walls had slowed their retreat, and the Blackhearts stumbled over bodies and were forced to weave around abandoned flame guns and other strange equipment.

Soon they saw the outer walls of the mine before them, and a moment later the weird silhouette of the ogre-mounted surgeon lurching through the gate, followed by its boiling shadow of rats. Reiner expected to hear echoes of battle from within the compound and see the light of torches, but it was silent and empty.

As they ran in they saw at last evidence that the ratmen and the soldiers had come this way. A crowd of armoured horses milled about in front of the mine entrance, waiting for their riders to return. The soldiers have chased the rats to their hole, thought Reiner. He prayed the vermin the explosion had trapped hadn't dug themselves out.

'There,' said Hals, pointing.

In the centre of the compound, the rat-ogre was shambling wearily on, its burdens at last slowing it down. Franka stopped and nocked an arrow, then pulled her bowstring back to her ear. She let fly. The rat-surgeon squeaked and toppled off his mount's shoulders, arms flailing. The rat-ogre stopped and turned.

The Blackhearts sprinted forward while Gert and Franka stayed back and fired at the beast. Jergen shot out ahead, holding his sword out to his side. The rat-ogre saw them coming and dropped Karel to step over the surgeon, roaring defiance. The giant rats surrounded it, hissing and snarling.

Jergen leapt over them, sword high. The rat-ogre raised an arm instinctively. A clawed hand spun away, severed cleanly by Jergen's flashing blade. The beast bellowed its pain and knocked Jergen sideways. The swordmaster landed shoulder-first among the rats and rolled. They snapped and clawed at him.

Reiner kicked left and right at the rats and aimed a thrust at the monster. His blade slid off its ribs, opening a crimson gash in its dark fur. It clubbed him aside with its bloody stump. Reiner staggered, his vision blurring from the impact, his bad leg buckling.

Pavel and Hals tried to reach the rat-ogre as well, but found themselves fending off the rats instead. The monster surged forward, swinging at Pavel. Franka and Gert peppered it with arrows and bolts, but it kept coming.

Reiner limped forward again, but as he waded into the rats, chopping in all directions, Karel stood up behind the rat-ogre, weaving and drawing his dagger.

'Get away, laddie!' Reiner shouted.

But the boy leapt on the beast's back, stabbing it in the neck. It howled and clawed behind it in agony, catching Karel by the arm. Reiner lunged in at its exposed side and plunged his sword into its guts. It roared and smashed Karel down on top of him, flattening him to the cobbles. The boy's elbow cracked him in the cheekbone. Reiner gasped, trying to suck air into his collapsed lungs. Karel's weight lifted off again and he rolled away, slashing blindly to keep the rats away.

He looked up. The rat-ogre towered above him, its hideous face contorted in a snarl. It had Karel by the leg now and was swinging him around like a club. Pavel and Hals were flying back, knocked off their feet. Franka and Gert were holding fire, afraid to hit Karel.

Reiner tried to rise, tried to get his sword in front of him. The rat-ogre glared down at him and raised Karel over its head. Reiner threw himself aside. The beast brought the boy down like an axe. Karel smashed onto the cobbles with a sick smack Reiner felt through his hands.

Pavel and Hals staggered up, shaking off rats and wading towards the beast. Franka and Gert fired.

Reiner rolled to dislodge a rat and saw the rat-ogre raising its human weapon again. Reiner flailed, but he couldn't get out of the way. He was covered in rats. One bit his arm, another his side, another his foot. He felt none of it. His whole world was the rat-ogre.

Motion flickered in the corner of his eye. Jergen. The swordsman ran up the monster's back, blade high. He chopped down like an executioner. The ugly head split in two, gushing blood, Jergen's steel lodging between its two front teeth. The beast fell like a tree, face first, right beside Reiner. Karel flopped flat to his right.

Jergen sprang off the monster and laid into the rats around Reiner.

Reiner killed the one on his chest and flung it at two more. He rolled to his knees, slashing in a circle, then staggered to his feet and joined Pavel and Hals, who stabbed and kicked and chopped at the vermin in a frenzy. Franka and Gert shot arrows and bolts into them as fast as they could. After a red blind moment, Reiner stopped and looked around, breathing heavily. The others were doing the same. They had run out of targets.

'All dead?' Reiner asked.

'Aye.' said Hals.

'There's one moving,' said Gert.

The Blackhearts turned. The rat-surgeon was writhing about in agony, Franka's arrow still lodged in his back. He had lost his spectacles.

Franka approached him, sword out, her face blank and hard. The surgeon squinted up at her, trying to back away. 'Mercy... Mercy please!'

Franka sneered. 'This is mercy, torturer!' She chopped at his neck. The first cut failed to decapitate him, and he shrieked as she hacked at him a second time and cut his head off. The headless corpse flopped and spasmed.

Franka collapsed to her knees.

Hals nodded. 'Well struck, lass.'

There was a moan behind them. They spun around, swords at the ready.

It was Karel. The boy's hands were moving weakly, but he was not long for the world. Reiner knelt stiffly at his side. The others gathered round. Franka retched and sobbed. Karel's chest was an odd shape. A red rib jutted up though his jerkin. He had a gash in his scalp Reiner could see his skull through. It was cracked. The boy lay in a lake of his own blood.

'Lad. Are you...' Reiner swallowed. 'Are you still with us?'

'Row...' Karel was trying to beckon to Reiner, but he hadn't much control of his hands. His breath whistled through his teeth in short gasps.

Reiner leaned close. 'What is it, lad?'

'Rowena.' Karel clutched Reiner's arm. His grip was painfully strong. 'Tell her I died... thinking of her.'

Reiner nodded. 'Certainly I will.' The poor fool, he thought. The girl had likely forgotten him as soon he had left her sight.

'But,' Karel pulled him closer. 'But... invent a better death.' He grinned up at Reiner, though his eyes gazed past him. 'You're good at that, aye?'

Reiner smiled sadly. 'Aye, laddie. That I am.'

Karel relaxed his grip and sank back. 'Thank you. You aren't... what Manfred said.' His eyes closed.

'Poor foolish boy,' said Hals.

Pavel made the sign of the hammer. Franka murmured a prayer to Myrmidia.

'He'd no business being mixed up in all this,' said Gert.

Reiner snorted. 'None of us did.'

A noise brought their heads up. They looked around. The sound came from outside the compound - the slow hoof steps of a single horse, echoing hollowly off the walls of the ravine. As they watched, it wandered through the gate, unguided by its rider, who was revealed slowly as it moved out of the shadow of the wall. The knight hung sideways from the saddle at an unnatural angle. A broken lance drooped from his mailed hand, blue and white pennons smeared with blood and dirt. His eyes stared vacantly beyond them.

'Sigmar!' hissed Pavel. 'It's Gutzmann!'

They all stood and turned to face the dead general, but no one seemed eager to approach him. They were transfixed. A chill ran up Reiner's spine as Mannslieb cut through the clouds and haloed the dead rider. Where had he come from? Had he got lost in the army's pursuit of the ratmen? Had he followed the Blackhearts?

The horse stopped in the centre of the compound, its head low, as noises began to come from the mine - the thud of boots, the creak and jingle of armour and sword, and above it all, loud laughter and exuberant banter - the voices of a victorious army returning from battle. Reiner stole a look behind him. Lancers, swordsmen and pikemen were swaggering out of the mine, boasting to each other of their exploits. Others came limping, or carrying fallen comrades, but even these seemed to be in an ebullient mood. The enemy was vanquished. The Empire - or their little corner of it - was saved.

Their merry chatter faltered and fell silent however, as one by one they noticed the lone knight sagging gracelessly from his saddle in the moon glow. They came forward in small groups to stand with the Blackhearts, until at last the entire garrison - or what was left of it - stood in a half circle, looking at their leader, who in life had nearly led them to folly, but in death had led them to victory.

They watched thus for many minutes, no one wanting to end the unearthly eerieness of the moment. But then, with a loud snap, one of Gutzmann's ropes broke and he crashed to the ground.

The garrison gasped and cried out. Then Captain Halmer, who had been standing with his men, stepped forward. 'Make a bier. Carry him back to the fort.' He raised his hands. 'May Sigmar bless our fallen general!'

The garrison raised their voices in unison. 'Hail Gutzmann! Praise Sigmar! Long live the Empire!'

The crowd of soldiers began to break up as some of Halmer's lancers went forward and started making a makeshift stretcher of their lances. Riders found their horses, pikemen and swordsmen formed up in their shattered companies.

Halmer saw the Blackhearts and saluted. He crossed to Reiner and clasped his hand, then leaned in. 'The garrison and the whole of the Empire owe you. I owe you. Unfortunately, for the morale of the men, I think it might be best if they were allowed to continue to believe that Gutzmann died here, now, after the battle was won, rather than before it began.'

Reiner exchanged wry looks with his comrades. 'That's all right, captain,' he said. 'We're used to it. Heroic deeds play best when it's heroes that perform them. Nobody wants to hear a ballad about the blackhearts that propped a would-be deserter on his horse and sent him off to save the day.'

Halmer scowled at that. 'Good. Then you would do well to keep it to yourself.' He turned on his heel and began calling the troops to order.

Franka rolled her eyes. 'The soul of diplomacy as always.'

Reiner shrugged, grinning. 'The truth is never diplomatic.'

The sun rose on a cold, bright morning as General Gutzmann led his army for the last time. Four knights carried him back to the fort on crossed lances as their comrades marched silently behind them, heads uncovered, and swords, lances and pikes held at the shoulder. The ceremonial mood was marred however, when it was discovered that another army occupied the fort. A thousand fresh Aulschweig knights, spearmen, swordsmen, and crossbowmen held the great south wall and the keep. An Aulschweig captain at the head of a company of swordsmen held up a hand as the column entered.

'Baron Caspar Tzetchka-Koloman's regards,' he said, 'and would you be so kind as to ask your captains to meet him in the great hall?'

Halmer stiffened. 'A foreigner gives orders in an Empire fort?'

'It is a request only,' said the Aulschweiger, bowing.

'Very well,' Halmer said. He dispatched a corporal to summon the other captains.

Reiner didn't like the look of things. He motioned his comrades off to one side. 'I think, lads, that it is time for us to go. Collect your things and meet me back here as soon as you can. We'll want to be away before...'

'Hetzau!' came Halmer's voice.

Reiner cringed. He turned and saluted. 'Captain?'

Halmer dismounted and stepped close to him. 'I may have need of your guile just now. You will attend me as my assistant. Come.'

Reiner sighed. 'Right ho.' He looked back at the Blackhearts as Halmer led him towards the keep. 'Get ready,' he mouthed.

Baron Caspar waited for the garrison's captains on the steps of the great hall. He looked every inch the dashing hero, dressed in armour of silvered plate, with a cloak and surcoat of blazing white over it.

'Welcome, gentlemen,' he said. 'Pray come in.'

He turned and led them into the great hall, which was still in great disarray after being used to house pike and sword companies the night before. Caspar pushed through the clutter of benches and tables and stepped up onto the raised dais, extending a gracious hand. 'Take your seats, gentlemen.' He circled the table and dropped into Gutzmann's chair.

The captains froze where they were.

'My lord,' said Halmer. 'That is the general's chair.'

Caspar shrugged. 'I am a general, yes?'

'Yes, but not...'

The hall's great double doors boomed closed behind them. Reiner looked around with the others. Armed men filed through the side door and surrounded them.

'What is the meaning of this?' asked Captain Vortmunder.

Caspar smiled. 'It means I now have the right to sit in this chair.'

Vortmunder stepped forward. 'But you were the general's friend. He was helping you...'

'And the general is dead,' Caspar cut him off. He sighed. 'I was becoming tired, anyway, of all the delays. All the shilly-shallying. Of having to beg for Gutzmann's gold and make extravagant promises to get it.' He sat forward. 'Now I no longer have need of such compromises. Now I no longer have to buy the golden eggs, since as of this moment, I own the goose that lays them.' He laughed. 'This is the best of all worlds! With the mine and the fort in my possession, my brother will not long stand against me. I will rule Aulschweig, and soon all the principalities!'

'You swine!' cried a knight captain. 'You break treaty!'

'The Empire will destroy you!' said Vortmunder.

'You won't get away with this!' said Halmer.

'The Empire will never know,' said Caspar. 'For no one will leave here. Besides, as long as I continue to send Altdorf a few meagre shipments of gold they won't bother to ask who sends it to them.' He smiled. 'And if they do someday learn who holds the pass, it will be too late, for I will have built my own empire by then.'

'You madman,' cried Vortmunder. 'You are a mere tick on the backside of the Empire. You...'

Caspar shot to his feet. 'I will not be insulted in my own keep!' He shouted. 'Speak to me that way again and you will be shot.' He sat back down, composed again. 'Now. You will be held hostage against the good behaviour of your men until I decide how to dispose of them.'

Reiner watched the captains seething with impotent rage as Caspar outlined his commands and conditions. Their hands clenched. Their eyes bulged with fury. They were too angry to think, too outraged by this grievous insult to the Empire to examine the situation. At any moment one of them might explode and say something that would get them all killed. Reiner didn't wish to die. Something had to be done. He leaned in and whispered in Halmer's ear. After a moment, the lance captain nodded.

'My lord,' he said, stepping forward. 'I regret to inform you that you are too late. Altdorf will be sending a force to reinforce this garrison within a month.'

'What do you say?' asked Caspar, sitting up. 'What's that?'

'A messenger was dispatched before we left the mine, my lord,' replied Halmer. 'Informing Karl-Franz of our battle with the ratmen and requesting reinforcements. There will be a full garrison on its way as soon as he reaches Altdorf. And though you may well hold the fort against that force, you won't hold it against the force that will come after the first. The Empire is relentless against its enemies, as you know. It will not stop until you have been wiped from the face of the earth.'

Caspar turned red. He turned to one of his captains. 'Send a squad to hunt down this messenger. I will kill him before he leaves the mountains.'

'You might, my lord,' said Halmer levelly. 'And you might not. He has quite a lead.' He coughed. 'I have another suggestion that you might find palatable.'

Caspar glared at him. 'You think to make terms with me? You are my prisoners!'

'It is only a suggestion, my lord. You may do with it as you will.'

'Speak,' snapped Caspar.

'You might, my lord, allow a second messenger to be sent after the first, informing Altdorf that you hold the fort for them. That after Commander Shaeder's betrayal of General Gutzmann to the ratmen and the subsequent loss of the fort, you rode in and saved us.'

Vortmunder turned on Halmer, eyes wild. 'What horrible lie is this! We needed no help! We defeated the ratmen! We held the fort!'

'But we don't now, captain,' said Halmer. 'Would you rather lose the fort to assuage your pride, or serve the Empire with your humility?' He turned back to Caspar. 'My apologies, my lord. As I was saying, you could send a message to Altdorf that you have saved us, and that you hold the fort for Karl-Franz until reinforcements can be brought up, thereby keeping the Empire's southern border safe.'

Caspar sneered. 'And why should I do that? Why should I kiss Karl-Franz's spotty behind?'

The captains bridled at that, but Halmer only smiled. 'Because, my lord, just as the Empire's vengeance is relentless, so is its benevolence limitless. In return for your help in this matter, the gracious Empire would support you against your brother and very likely back you in your ambitions against the other princes of the region. Altdorf has for centuries longed for more stability on its southern border.'

Caspar sat back in his seat, brow furrowed. Reiner could see his suspicious nature fighting with his greed and ambition. He smiled. He knew which of those combatants always won out with a man like Caspar. He exchanged a look with Halmer and nodded. The captain had done a masterful job. He hadn't made any demands, any threats. He had laid it out as Reiner whispered it to him. A reasonable plan presented by a reasonable man.

After a long moment Caspar nodded. 'Very well, send your messenger. But you will be held as hostages in Aulschweig. If Altdorf betrays me, you will all die. You understand me?'

Halmer and the others nodded, their heads held high. They knew that, in reality, the Empire would come for Caspar's head, and Caspar would kill them for betraying him, but they were knights of the Empire. They were ready to make this sacrifice.

Reiner, on the other hand, was not. 'Er, captain,' he said to Halmer. 'I would be honoured to be allowed to convey this message to Altdorf.'

TWENTY-ONE

Freedom

Reiner chivvied his comrades out of the fort as quickly as he could. His shoulders remained tense as they waited while horses were found and they were outfitted and provisioned. At any moment Caspar might change his mind and lock down the fort, or Halmer might decide he had too much need of Reiner's guile to let him go. But at last they were all kitted out and mounted up, with a little pony cart following them to carry their supplies. Reiner had insisted on the cart.

Hals spat over his left shoulder as they got under way, riding into the pass out of the shattered remains of the tent encampment outside the fort's north wall. 'Ain't sorry to be showing that place my backside.'

'Didn't think I'd get out with mine intact,' said Gert.

Pavel laughed. 'Ye've enough. Y'could've left some of it behind.'

Franka shivered. 'The sooner we're out of these accursed mountains the better.'

Jergen nodded.

Reiner spurred his horse. 'I agree. But we have a stop to make first.'

The mine's third tunnel was choked with the bodies of ratmen, piles of them, their limbs and torsos broken and cut to ribbons.

At the end of the tunnel where the explosion had closed it off the bodies were packed to the ceiling, and it appeared that these had torn each other apart in their frenzy to return to their underground world. The wounds that had killed them weren't the straight cuts of swords, but the ragged shredding of claws and teeth.

But though the stench of blood, bile and filth was unbearable, Reiner had searched every foot of it, for he couldn't find Gutzmann's gold. Reiner had led the Blackhearts to the spot where he had discovered the crates, but they were no longer there. At least he was almost sure they weren't. He couldn't be certain he hadn't missed them somehow.

He cursed. 'We'll search again as we go up,' he said.

Hals made a face. 'But what do we look for?'

'Is it really worth all this stink?' asked Pavel.

Reiner shot a look at Gert and Jergen. They were all that was left of Manfred's new men. Either one could be his spy. And at the same time, neither could be. The spy might have been... Dag? It hardly seemed possible. More likely Abel. But if that was the case, he had decided early on to switch from observer to leader. And what had become of him anyway? Reiner hadn't seen the quartermaster since he had betrayed him to Gutzmann.

'Aye, it's worth it,' Reiner said at last. 'It's evidence. For Manfred. Something that'll impress him. That we might be able to use to convince him to free us. Now come. Pavel and Hals, look on the left. Gert and Jergen on the right. Franka, stay with me in the centre. Don't miss an inch.'

The Blackhearts groaned and began trudging back up the tunnel.

Half an hour later Reiner had to admit defeat. The crates were nowhere in the tunnel. The Blackhearts returned to their horses and the cart, and at last got on the road for Averheim and Altdorf.

Reiner was glum, his shoulders slumped. The gold had been their chance at freedom, and now it was gone. They were back were they were before Manfred had sent them on this fool mission - firmly in his clutches with no way that Reiner could see to get out. It was maddening.

As they passed out of Brunn and started up the next rise Franka patted his arm.

'Don't feel so bad,' she said. 'Didn't we survive?'

'Aye, but for what? More servitude?'

Franka looked at him. 'Don't you feel any pride in what you've done? If you hadn't put Gutzmann on his horse and tricked all his men into following him, the day would have been lost. The ratmen would hold the fort, and everyone would be dead. You...'

'A thousand men!' said Reiner suddenly.

'What?' Franka frowned. 'Where?'

Reiner laughed, loud and long. 'Pavel,' he cried. 'Open a bottle of wine.'

'Hey,' said the pikeman. 'Now?'

'Yes now. I need a drink. We all do. A celebration.'

Pavel shrugged and dug through the supplies on the cart.

Franka scowled at him quizzically. 'What are you on about?'

Reiner wiped his eyes and shook his head. 'When I was in the ratmen's tunnels trying to free you, and it looked like we wouldn't make it, I made a pledge to Ranald that if he saved me, I would not touch drink again until I had tricked a thousand men.' He grinned. 'Well, he saved me.'

Franka smiled. 'And you tricked a thousand men.'

'And now I need a drink.'

Pavel handed Reiner a bottle and he raised it. 'Here's to luck and the brains to use it.' He took a long drink and passed it to Franka.

'Here's to those that didn't make it, and to us that did. Sigmar bless us all,' she said, and tilted the bottle up for a few swallows. 'And Myrmidia.' She passed it to Pavel.

'Here's to home and hearth,' he said. 'May we see them again at last.' He drank and passed the bottle to Hals.

'Here's to Gutzmann,' he said. 'May he sup with Sigmar tonight.' He drank deep and handed the bottle to Gert.

'Here's to new friends,' he said. 'May we drink again in better circumstances.' He gulped down two big swallows, then passed it to Jergen.

The swordsman raised the bottle, but not his eyes. 'Freedom.' He drank and returned it to Reiner.

The others nodded, and echoed him. 'Freedom.'

Reiner finished the bottle, then tossed it at the rocky wall of the pass. It smashed into a hundred pieces. Red drops spattered the rocks.

A few miles later, the companions came around a bend in the path and saw a cart up ahead. It was in a ditch, and the horses and driver nowhere in sight. As they got closer, Reiner noticed crates on the back of the cart, and his heart jumped. He recognized them. He spurred his horse forward. He was shaking. Could it be?

The crates had been opened, the tops pried off. Reiner stepped off his horse onto the cart, and looked inside them. They were empty. His fists clenched. Empty!

He kicked one to the ground. There was a single gold ingot beneath it, missed by whoever had looted them. He snatched it up. Hardly enough to buy an hour of a sorcerer's time, let alone pay him to remove whatever poisonous curse Manfred had put on them. He hurled it into the brush.

'Reiner,' said Franka, as the others caught up to him. 'Look.'

Reiner turned to where she was pointing. On the far side of the cart was a body. He jumped down and turned it over, then recoiled. The Blackhearts gathered around him, staring and gagging.

It was Abel. He was dead, but not from any weapon of steel. Reiner was almost certain he had been dead before those who had robbed the cart had struck. His face was stretched in a hideous rictus grin, as if something inhumanly strong had grabbed the flesh at the back of his head and pulled it tight. His tongue was thick and black and protruded from his mouth like a sausage. His hands were so flexed that the bones of his fingers had snapped, and his arms and legs were as rigid and hard as iron.

"Tis the poison,' breathed Pavel. 'Manfred knew he betrayed us and he set it loose.'

Reiner swallowed. 'So it isn't a ruse after all.'

'He can see us all,' moaned Hals. 'He knows what we're thinking.'

'But how can that be?' asked Franka, shivering. 'It's impossible.'

It was impossible, thought Reiner. But that left an even more unpalatable option - that Manfred's spy still lived. That he was one of them. Reiner looked around. Gert or Jergen - which was it? Then an even more horrible possibility struck him. What if Manfred had reached one of the original group? The spy could be any of them. Any of them.

Reiner and the others mounted up again and continued north, but the mood of camaraderie that had united them mere moments ago was lost, replaced by an uneasy silence.

A cold wind began to blow. Franka urged her horse up beside Reiner's and rubbed her leg against his. He instinctively returned the sweet pressure, but then stopped. What if it was she who...?

He edged away from her, hating himself. Suspicion was a poison that would kill them all. She looked up at him, confused.

He pulled his cloak tighter around him and rode alone.

Table of Contents

HETZAU’S FOLLIES

VALNIR'S BANE

ROTTEN FRUIT

THE BROKEN LANCE