The trio of carts clicked and scraped along the path as they travelled. Surrounding them were four men with handguns that walked alongside them in a loose square, and surrounding these were six others – two Greatswords of Carroburg who had been bribed into service during a moment of drunken weakness, three men armed in no regular manner, and Sister Sofie at the front.
It was dark out, such that none of the guards could see further than a metre or so ahead of them, and the tall oil-lit lanterns that hung like fireflies were the only guiding light they could follow.
"Why didn't we wait 'till mornin'?" One of the soldiers protested, narrowly avoiding getting tripped by a crack in the stone.
"Wait until morning?" A voice laughed from within the central carriage. "Nonsense, we don't know when that comet will hit, you see. We must get out." The soldier grumbled but accepted that answer.
Sofie dropped back, allowing one of the Greatswords to take point, and marched parallel to the Merchant's carriage.
"How long, sir? I must get back to the Monastery. Sister-Superior Heline is holding a service, you see."
"A service?" She could see the silk curtain being drawn back, but not the man who took its place.
"Yes, sir. Purifying the soul, to prepare for the cleansing, sir." She spoke politely, but quickly, as if feeling the pressure of time already.
"We've been travelling for, what, half a day? Not long now, I'd say. A few hours." He suggested. The sister nodded and took her place again.
The trip so far had been uneventful. Whatever he was afraid of – when questioned on it, he would just laugh it off, never giving a full answer – was nowhere to be found. There was no bandit, no crazed servant of chaos, nothing. There was only the clicking of hooves and the stamping of boots, and the cold, still breeze of night.
Except, it wasn't still anymore. She felt it run down her ear and across her cheek, and it frightened her. She didn't know why, but something intuitive made her reach for the mace. Behind her, breathing was getting faster and she heard the clean sliding of a blade leaving its holster.
"Oi, sah. What's out here with us?" One of the soldiers asked – probably the Greatsword; his voice was deep and harsh.
"Nothing, nothing!" The Merchant laughed his usual laugh, but with what stutter of fear that was just too much to contain.
Sofie sighed in frustration, and then felt that rush of air past her again. The light in the lantern curved down parallel to it, and someone behind her screamed suddenly. She turned and felt her heart throbbing.
"By Sigmar, we've got a dead one here!"
She backed up into something cold. It felt like bark. She could see the foremost cart in the light of a lantern. Another rush of air ran past her, towards it, and he rose into the air before careering out of view with a thud.
The rest of her fellows were panicking now, but one-by-one the voices fell silent. With each rush of air another one died, until she was the last one left. She let herself slide down the bark, sitting in the cold dirt. She felt paralyzed, as if the cold was too much for her, but she gathered the strength to slip a hand down infront of her breast and draw forth a necklace, bearing on it a twin-tailed comet. She kissed it, muttering a prayer. If she was about to die, she wanted her spirit to be judged clean.
"Sigmar, bless your humble servant." She gulped as she felt the air rouse into action once again, this time scraping past her ear and along her neck. Her hunter was right beside her.
"So that in death I am clear of sin," She drew her mace. "And of weakness." She breathed in deeply, yelling out all of her fear as she bolted up and swung with the mace.
Something connected. The crack broke through the night. She laughed in relief and joy, until she realised that she had not heard the tell-tale thump of a collapse. There was only a laugh that carried on after her's died down, one of venom and arrogance. She felt a hand on her breast before flying a metre into the air and a dozen back, slumping against the upturned cart and allowing herself to fall into unconsciousness.
Sister Sofie awoke to the chirping of birds and the gentle streams of sun through trees that one would expect in the early hours, but she didn't feel happiness or warmth. She stood with an unnatural easiness, expecting to feel a searing pain in her back, but that was vacant too. She walked forward without a stumble, and looked around without much difficulty. She didn't feel much of anything at all, except anger and frustration. She had failed for the first time as a Sister of Sigmar, and it felt more toxic than any wound.
One of the carts was led on its side, and she saw a dent shaped like plate-armour behind her, where she had fallen. Another was standing, but still, behind it. And the last was gone entirely.
"Nobleman?" She called out. No answer. She stumbled around the roadside, seeing patches of blood but no bodies.
She began to gather distance from the scene, back in the direction from whence they had come, when she saw one of the guards from the night before. He was sat with his knees tucked up against his chest, against one of the lanterns. His head rocked from side-to-side in a brown capitano cap. She jogged up to him – ignoring the strange lack of feeling where she had been battered – and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Come, come on, sir! We must go!" She yelled. The rocking head stopped before rising slowly. An old face watched her without emotion or response, the ginger curls of its moustache stained with mud. It began to rise, and she took a few paces back to give the man room.
Her delight at not being the sole survivor grew into horror when his legs unfolded and he stood still. His trousers were torn, revealing not skin but bone. He howled deeply, the same howl she had been taught of in the monastery.
Unwilling to leave the man to his fate, she sought to cure him of his undeath – back at the chapel. She punched him in the nose, not to kill but to incapacitate, but watched in horror as his head flew loose of his shoulders and rolled along the side of the road. His body turned to reclaim it even as the Sister, muttering in confusion and horror, turned and ran.
A/N – This chapter was a bit short and I had to adjust my plan to make it a suitable length. Feel free to tell me if it ever feels disjointed or like filler. Otherwise, I hope it's a good read.