Disclaimer-I do not own the Warhammer world (just as well really). All reviews are greatly appreciated.

--

The thunder of hooves reached Martin's ears long before the riders were visible. It began as a distant rumble, likened by some to the rumbling that heralds the approach of a storm, growing louder as the cause of the noise approached.

The two men were riding hard, bent double in the saddle and spurring their horses to the limits of endurance. Both men were clad in hooded cloaks. One rode slightly ahead, glancing back occasionally at his companion who lagged behind. Closer inspection revealed that the second rider held another, smaller figure clasped tightly to his chest.

The lead rider, a man by the name of Felix, cursed their predicament. It had been foolish to bring the child this far. They should have doubled back to the farmstead as he had suggested and but for the insistence of his companion he would have done just that. But Richard had insisted on continuing, insisting he must carry news to his village. After what he had witnessed three days back Felix had simply been too scared to continue his journey alone. Then, just as they had set up camp tonight...had it not been for the disturbance of a nesting partridge they might not have spotted the danger till it was too late.

Through a gap in the trees he discerned the glow of a torch. That must be the village watchtower-Richard had been very specific in his description. "If anything happens to me then get to the village and tell my father the gatekeeper what has happened. They must be warned!"

For an instant he felt his fear ease. Just a few more minutes and they would be safe.

They were approaching the clearing when the trap was sprung. Without warning the darkness came alive. Several figures leapt into their path, barely two meters distant. They shrieked and gibbered, three waving torches whilst the rest ran forward. In the moonlight Felix saw several were carrying long weapons with gleaming points-spears!

Felix's horse, alarmed at the noise, attempted to pull up short. Cursing he dug his spurs in, willing the beast to continue, its momentum their only hope of escape. It was no use. The lead figure thrust its weapon into the horse's chest. Screaming with pain the beast toppled to the earth, pinning Felix's leg beneath it. He screamed as he felt the bone snap.

Through a haze of pain Felix was able to make out the features of his attacker. It was bipedal, of that there was no doubt. But then, to his horror, he discerned the elongated snout and prominent horns that sprouted from his head, heard the sound of cloven hooves stomping the earth beside him.

"No!"

That was the last word he ever uttered as the attackers closed in.

Seeing him go down Richard had only seconds to act. Digging his spurs in and tightening his grip on the child he urged the beast towards his fallen comrade. He could not help, there were too many attackers. But he gambled they would expect him to ride clear of the fray, not directly for it.

It paid off. Of the four that had attacked Felix only one was unoccupied. It seemed too startled, reacting too late. The horse ploughed into it with such force the figure was lifted from its feet and sent tumbling aside. Richard didn't look back. He tugged the reins left, trying to evade the torchbearers. They stayed with him, barring his path. His horse reared, its hooves striking one in the face. The other two leapt at him. Hands clasped his cloak, attempting to pull him from his seat. He kicked out, felt his foot strike something hard. Then his horse plunged forward and he was pulled clear.

As he cleared the last figure something flickered in the corner of his eye. Suddenly he felt a screaming pain in left thigh. He clung to the reins grimly, fighting the urge to scream. Something whistled past his head. He hunched over further and rode for the village.

--

It had not taken long to subdue Gerard. Once the warden was disarmed Kurzwiel quickly took charge, giving orders to bind the man and place him at the back of the barn behind some tools, reducing the risk of someone stumbling across him. This did not sit well with the third member of the group, the man who had dropped out of the loft onto Gerard's back. "Are you sure about this?"

Kurzwiel nodded. "Yes Kurt. He may be working for the Burgomaster but I doubt he knows the truth of the matter. I will not have someone killed in cold blood to keep us safe, we will not stoop that low."

"You really think he will show any mercy?"

"That is not important. What is important is what to do next. It will not be long before his companion comes looking for him and it will not take long to discover him. We must leave tonight."

Krueger protested. "But the horses are not ready. And there is no chance of us leaving until dawn; the gates will not open until then".

"I know cousin, but we daren't risk staying. Kurt and I will leave tonight. We may be able to get transport from that farmstead you mentioned. I recommend you come with us, for it will not be safe for you now it is known you have aided us."

Krueger sighed wearily. "I suppose I must, but I have a better idea. You two leave tonight and I will get the horses ready. Fist light is not far away and once the gates are open I can ride out and meet you further out with the supplies. Agreed?"

"Agreed" Kurzwiel removed the ladder and placed it against the wall. "We had best move now".

--

"Who goes there?" Michael's challenge pierced the night as Richard approached the gate.

The rider pulled his horse up short. "It's me, Richard. Quick open the gate, I'm being attacked!"

Recognising his brother's voice, Michael had sufficient presence of mind to take him at his word. Seizing the wooden baton he began to strike the tin circle that hung from the roof of the tower. "Father, open the gate! Richard's back and he's under attack!"

"Hold it there!" James laid a restraining hand on his arm and leant over the wall. "You know the rules. Give us the password now!"

"Wyrm's Tongue!" The panic in Richard's voice was now unmistakeable. "Please hurry!" Even as he spoke James heard the soft thud of something hard striking the gate. Notching an arrow to his bow, he squinted into the darkness for a target. "Get the gate open!"

Below them came the squeak of bolts being pulled back, then the creak as one gate swung back on its hinges. Richard spurred his horse inside. Behind him the gatekeeper slammed the gate shut and refastened the bolts. From beyond the clearing there came an angry bellow as the pursuers realised they had lost their quarry.

Throughout this Michael continued to beat the gong, its great clang ringing out across the village, stirring the occupants to action as they scrambled to obey the call to arms.

--

Krueger peered through the doorway, listening for any sign of movement. Satisfied the coast was clear he exited the barn, motioning the others to follow him.

They were scarcely clear of the door when it happened. As the last person left a shape detached itself from the stonework above the door. Unnoticed till then, it dropped down without a sound. Reaching into the folds of its robes it produced a wickedly curved blade. Rolling as it hit the earth; the figure was on its feet and had thrust the blade through Karl's back before anyone knew what was happening.

Karl's gasp of shock and pain alerted his comrades. Kurzwiel whipped round as the figure leapt for him. Its blade flashed in the moonlight and had he not been holding the warden's sword it would have ended there. Re-acting on instinct he lifted the sword to parry the blow. His assailant's blade bit into the wood of the scabbard, halting inches from his neck. The attacker continued the lunge, striking his chest with its shoulder. The momentum knocked him to the ground.

Krueger came to his rescue. Drawing his dagger the villager hurled himself at the assailant. Both fighters went down and rolled over, each fighting to sink his blade into the other's flesh.

Kurzwiel leapt to his feet and drew his sword. He had hardly taken one step when pain flared through his right arm. His left hand moved to the point of pain and his fingers grazed over something sharp. Glancing around he was in time to see another dark shape leap from the wall, rolling to within feet of him. Gripping his blade in both hands he charged.

The newcomer parried his strike and counter-attacked swiftly. The blade passed his defences, being deflected by his chain-mail shirt. Then he was beset with a flurry of blows that forced him onto the defensive. His new assailant was shorter than him, but moved with speed and skill, its blade flashing so fast that Kurzwiel had no chance to counter-attack. To make matters worse each blow was causing his sword-arm to throb painfully.

To his right he heard Krueger scream. Distracted momentarily, his foot caught on a stone and he lost his balance. His opponent struck, the force of the blow knocking the sword from his grasp. He hit the ground hard and his enemy loomed above him, blade held high.

There was a flash. The second attacker froze. A short gasp escaped its lips and it fell backwards, its sword falling from its hand as it hit the ground. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Glancing back he made out another figure clad in black approaching at speed, the light of the moon Mannslieb gleaming off the curved blade in its hand.

The first attacker was advancing now. Reaching into its robe it withdrew a pair of blades. Its left arm rose and fell. The projectiles flashed through the night. The clang of metal on metal rang out as the newcomer reacted. Sword a blur, it nimbly deflected both missiles, sprinting past Kurzwiel and heading for his assailant.

Their blades met with a clang. The newcomer did not stop. Pressing down on his foe's blade he leapt upwards to summersault over the other's head. Kurzwiel watched in disbelief as he seemed to twist in mi-air, coming down facing his enemy's back. Ducking the attacker's desperate swipe he swept his own sword across his enemy's gut. His second strike sliced the other's throat, cutting off its feral scream.

--

When Moon Sword looked up Kurzwiel was already running for the shelter of the houses. He made to give chase, then ducked and rolled sideways, hearing the thud of projectiles slamming into the ground around him. Rolling to his feet he lifted his sword in time to deflect another projectile. A second flashed past his sword, bouncing off the armour beneath his coat.

Moon Sword darted for the barn door as more projectiles struck the earth and stonework. He ducked through the doorway and rolled to his left, coming to rest in a fighting crouch. For an instant he was still. Satisfied there was no one else present he flattened himself against the wall.

From outside he heard a groan of pain. Then the sound of soft footsteps reached his ears and the groan was silenced. He risked a glance, ducking back when something struck the stonework inches from his face. Damit! Trapped!

Then new sounds reached his ears-raised voices and the pounding of feet. He chanced another glance and spotted the gleam of approaching torches. The villagers!

Given the circumstances he was glad of their arrival, but had no wish to be seen. Scanning the barn he made out the opening in the roof. No time to search for a ladder. Sheathing his sword he ran to the opening. Vaulting upwards, he seized the rim with both hands and hauled himself up, cursing as he almost lost his grip on the straw-strewn floor.

Once up Moon Sword opened his palm and muttered an incantation. A pale flame flared into life, casting flickering shadows over the roof space. The space was stacked with hay and sacks filled with various crops, doubtless brought in for the upcoming winter. By the light of the flame he discerned a set of wooden shutters at the front of the building. No chance of getting out there without being seen. Turning his gaze to the back of the barn he made out a smaller shutter in the far wall.

That was his best chance.

Extinguishing the flame he clambered over the hay towards the shutters. Feeling his way in the dark, he managed to unfasten the bolts and push the shutter back. Then slowly, carefully, he edged himself out through the opening.

Thankfully the barn was built in the old style. Its worn stonework offered plenty of foot and hand holds and he was able to climb down without too much difficulty. Dropping the last few feet, he made for the shadow of the stockade, seeking a roundabout route to take him clear of any villagers.

Then he heard the sound of the gong.

TBC.