To Mordheim, To Mordheim

by Tenchi Ginyu

Lisette and Veldt are dispatched to the infamous Cursed City to aid a merchant's son. But not all the dangers they face come from Mordheim.

To Mordheim, To Mordheim

*Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer, Mordheim or any part of the Old World.*

*Gwen based on 'Busty' Gwen Brumsfield by Timothy Jackson who also created The Stoat & Pitcher*

Mordheim. The name alone could conjure nightmares. Mordheim. The cursed city smashed to rubble by a twin tailed comet. The city fought over by Emperors, mercenaries, cutthroats and scum, all fighting and dying among the ruins, scrabbling for fragments of wyrdstone, raw magic congealed to rock. Razed by Magnus the Pious, more than two centuries ago, yet still a name that some feared to whisper, the city where insanity, evil and worse still supposedly roamed.
'Mordheim.' Lysette Voss noted. 'You want us to go to Mordheim.'
The focus of her attention nodded firmly.
The evening had started out relatively well. After finally getting some sleep, Lysette had spent a fruitless morning attempting to divine why her superiors at the Temple of Verena were so adamant about her attending a dinner at a local merchant's. So, following orders, she had presented herself at the house of Maurice Radman quite promptly. There Lysette had been surprised to find herself reunited with Arne Veidt, her 'guardian angel' from her exploits with the river pirates. Then Maurice Radman bustled in.
'Welcome welcome, dear lady and gentleman. Thank you for graciously accepting my invitation. Now please, let us eat. Then we will talk business.'
Veidt had needed no second invitation and amazed his host with a truly prodigious appetite. Lysette enjoyed her meal, the local trout was fresh and the bread baked that day. The journey to Eichschatten had been long and the iron rations she had existed on were a sour memory. Maurice Radman signaled his servants and the dishes were replaced almost before they were bare. Lysette sipped the excellent local wine and eyed her host.
'So, Herr Radman, to what do we owe your effusive hospitality?'
'Let us enjoy our meal before we get to the chore of business. I always find matters are conducted far more reasonably and convivially after a good meal.'
'I suppose it also helps if your associates are somewhat drunk before discussing matters?'
Radman laughed and pushed some trout around his plate while a servant refilled his wine glass. Lysette noted how little he ate compared to what he drank as the meal progressed until, at last, Radman and Lysette pushed away their plates. Veidt stripped the last morsels from his sixth trout and took a huge bite from the remaining loaf.
'If we've all finished, then perhaps we should adjourn next door for brandy? There we can discuss our business.'
Radman ushered them all into the drawing room and poured himself Lysette a glass each and motioned Veidt to help himself.
Lysette took a sip of the rich fiery liquid. 'Mm. Kemperbad's finest. You do keep a fine cellar Herr Radman.' The old man simpered and spread his hands.
Lysette glanced at her fellow guest and her eyes widened.
The big man was holding a brandy glass that appeared some two-thirds full.
'Some prefer to savor the bouquet.' She noted.
'The what?' Veidt looked puzzled.
'The aroma. The smell.'
'You mean people make a big glass like this, only to put a little drink in it just to smell it?'
'Yes.'
Veidt rolled his eyes. 'Rich folk.'
'Now then, if you will indulge an old man his theatrics, what do you think? Why have I asked you here?'
'You want us to find your son.' Lysette coolly replied. 'You are a widower and have one child. I saw the portraits.'
Radman nodded. 'Very impressive, Lady Voss, very impressive indeed. You are quite correct. My only son Corbin Radman has gone to Mordheim to find an artefact he believes buried somewhere in that cursed place. I begged him not to go, lectured him on the many dangers and finally threatened to cut him off from my house entirely. Yet he still went.'
'Corbin always dreamed of becoming a great hero like Sigmar or Konrad. He fed on every legend and exploit like a starving man, and maybe I overindulged him. He had wanted to go to Altdorf University, but Averheim was the destination of other young men he would be doing business with one day, so I felt it was the better place. While he was there, he became enamored of a scholar named Nero Dreisden. Dreisden was planning an expedition to the ruins and Corbin determined to join him. I immediately forbade it and I thought that was an end to it. Then he tells me of his own plans for an expedition to recover the Ravensong.'
'What's that?' Veidt spoke up.
'A runesword apparently. Corbin was studying in the archives one day researching a paper when he found a bundle of ancient papers. Amongst them was the confession of a dying man from the local Hospice of Shallya. The man was named Hrothgar Valance and his confession detailed his time in Mordheim dating back to the time of the Three Emperors. A mercenary, he had been hired by a Witch Hunter to accompany him into the City of the Damned to root out and destroy some evil there. The Witch Hunter was accompanied by a Templar of Morr who bore the runesword consecrated to the God of Death, supposedly crafted by a Dwarf Master Runesmith. The confession went on to tell how the Witch Hunter coveted the sword and turned on the Templar, attacking and wounding him most grievously. But the Templar fought off the Witch Hunter and his men and fled into city itself, never to be seen again. The sword became just another lost legend in the ruins.'
'How does he plan on finding it?' Lysette glanced over at Veidt who was paying attention but seemed remarkably unperturbed at the prospect of a journey into the fabled City of the Damned. 'Magnus razed the city over two centuries ago. That sword could be anywhere. Not to mention whatever has been built up there since.
Maurice Radman laid a map out on a table.
'This is a copy of a map of Mordheim prior to the comet's strike.'
Another more crudely drawn map was laid over the first.
'This is a map from the time of Valance, some years after the comet had struck. Reputedly a gift from the Sisters of Sigmar to aid in the Witch Hunter's work.'
Lysette noted the crudely drawn streets and compared them to the original.
'And this,' A third sketch was laid over the previous two. 'is a copy from Dreisden's expedition some three years ago. You can see how the streets correlate.'
'Have you heard from Corbin of late?,' Lysette said, despite the interest rising within. 'It's a long journey and the ruins of Mordheim have an evil reputation for good reason. Also, the hordes of Archaon were pushed back from Middenheim only very recently. The ruins would be a perfect location for any remnants.'
'Hence the reason for your presence here tonight.' Maurice Radman stated. 'If I cannot reason with my son, then I can at least protect him. I don't know what arrangements he has made, but I highly doubt that they are any better than the two of you. From what I have heard about how you dealt with those pirates, the pair of you are worth an army of Trollslayers!'
Lysette gave a brittle smile. She still remembered her hands awash in the pirate's blood, and the pain of Dolphus Beck's death, so was in no mood to relive her past 'glories'. Radman failed to notice her disquiet and thumbed through more papers.
'I received a letter from Corbin a few days ago.' Radman brandished sheet of vellum. 'He reports some promising leads that his initial explorations have uncovered but, of course, needs more funds with which to fully explore them. I will send him what he asks for, with you two as it's escort. I will pay you each 100 crowns for going and a further 100 upon your return with my son hale hearty. What do you say?'
Veidt spat on his hand before reaching over and engulfing Radman's hand in his. 'Deal.' He said, ignoring Radman's wince of disgust. 'We'll also be needing some gear, weapons and the like. If this Mordheim of yours is what you say, we'll need everything we can get.'
'Of course, of course.' Radman agreed, discreetly massaging life back into his hand. 'Get what you need and have the bills sent to me. But what say you Lady Voss?'
'I must consult with my superiors at the Temple before I can commit to such a venture.' Lysette's smile grew ever more brittle. She had no wish to go poking around the most infamous ruins in the Empire, but she had a growing suspicion as to why she had been bidden to attend.
'Of course, of course.' Radman waved his hand dismissively. 'I quite understand. Do please let me know your answer at your convenience.'

Lysette glowered at the indifferent waters of the Aver river. The Temple fathers had told her in no uncertain terms to place herself at Maurice Radman's disposal. Lysette was sure Radman had promised the Temple funds for 'renewal and maintenance' before approaching her and had to admire the old man's efficiency. And so she found herself gliding eastwards along the Aver aboard one of Radman's boats bound for Haukern, a small town on the edge of the Bylorhof Marsh, the end of the trade route for most watercraft. Beyond the reaches of the marsh lay the southern edges of the Ghoul Woods, a blighted and haunted wasteland that bordered the heartland of Sylvania. But Lysette and Veidt would be alighting at Leedleton where horses would carry them overland to the small town of Konigstein and from there, to Siegfriedhof, where they would finally approach the ruins of the most cursed place in the Empire. Maurice Radman had spared no expense for their journey and Veidt had proven most useful in their preparations, convincing Lysette that her companion was more than some strapping peasant in search of fortune and glory. The falchion strapped to her back had proved that, as had his choice of a chain mail shirt for her. Veidt had examined almost every blade the local smith had in his stock, handing her various swords and making suggestions about how she hold and move them. The back scabbard had been at his insistence, Veidt stating it would be easier for her to move on horseback and across the terrain and she had found it hard to counter his reasoning. And Lysette had found herself surprisingly grateful for the chainmail. Veidt's choices of travelling clothes, though while practical, revealed more of Lysette's form than her sensibilities found entirely appropriate and the locals were quick to compliment her tunic and breeches. The mail provided a welcome layer of concealment.
Veidt himself was a walking arsenal. A larger falchion hung on his back alongside a quiver of arrows and a great bow of horn currently sat in his hand, an arrow nocked on the string. The big man paced the deck, scanning the shoreline, a pair of axes swinging from his belt. A thick bladed knife, almost a short sword, hung behind the axe on his right hip and several other blades hung from the bandolier across his broad chest. A kettle helm crowned his head and Lysette knew that a small shield was stashed close at hand along with his awful rivet studded club. Maurice Radman may have some hefty bills outfitting his son's new guardians, but Lysette was sure Veidt was money well spent and determined to let the enormous warrior do the bulk of any fighting. She would try and watch his back, if such a thing was even necessary.
Veidt interrupted her reverie. 'Get your blade out. Let's see what your Temple taught you.'

Lysette had never been so glad to see a town before, even one as small as Leedleton. She was hot, sticky, breathless and she ached all over. Veidt had taken it easy on her in their practice, but the man moved with a speed that belied his size and his skill was phenomenal. He had rigorously coached her on basic stances and guards, striking first in a sequence, then randomly, forcing Lysette to move and adapt to him. Her bruises bore testament to her lack of skill and she had never come close to landing a blow on Veidt. Now she wanted food, drink, a bath and bed in whatever order was most readily available.
'You alright?' Veidt asked her.
'I'll live.' She responded, wincing as another bruise protested. 'You had fun though.'
Veidt shrugged. 'Only way to learn.'
'I learned that my Temple training was sorely lacking. Where did you learn to fight?'
'Here and there. But you at least know you don't know. That makes you cautious. And cautious can beat bold when skill is lacking. Someone fighting you may well get careless and give you something you can use. And you learn pretty quick.'
Lysette smiled at the compliment and noted that, once again, her companion had avoided revealing anything about himself.

Leedleton gradually receded into the distance as the horses hit their stride. On Lysette's right lay the Bylorhof Marsh, its fetid stench pervading the entire landscape. Coarse grass and plants clung to the earth as if seeking sanctuary from the sun itself. Fat black flies buzzed around the water's edge and even the sunlight itself seemed muted and weaker. Lysette watched a group of somber halflings watch them from the rise to their left, a palpable reminder that they were leaving the Mootlands for Sylvania. The famous Ghostwardens of the Mootlands patrolled the eastern border with all the zeal of Witch Hunters. Lysette had read of these brave souls, so at odds with the popular Halfling depictions, and the bulwark they formed against the dark magics that infested Sylvania. Even on its most western borderlands, acres of dark miserable green spread before them. She glanced at Veidt, who again seemed in his element. His bow sat in his left hand, a finger keeping the arrow to the bow as the horses surged onwards. A day's hard ride would get them to the village of Dechstein before sundown and only the suicidally courageous or insane would brave Sylvania after dark. Then, on to Swarthafen, and then another day following the Black Run river to Konigstein before pressing onto Siegfriedhof and Mordheim.

The sun was treading on the horizon as the pair finally passed through the gates of Brigandsburg, one of the small settlements that hugged the ruins of the dread city. Lysette eyed the ramshackle buildings that were scattered around a patch of ground that she guessed was the square and examined the faded signs dangling above doors.
'Gods I feel like I haven't left this saddle in a week.' Lysette groaned. 'Where is this blasted tavern? I'm hungry, thirsty and could sleep for a week.'
'Aye, that sounds good.' Veidt echoed. 'What's the name of this tavern?'
'The Stoat and Pitcher.'
'Well I can see a pitcher and something hanging next to it. Could be a stoat.'
As Lysette stared at the thing dangling next to the pitcher, the door crashed open and three bodies spilled into the square, propelled by the largest woman Lysette had ever seen. The female behemoth eyed the three groaning heaps and spat on the nearest.
'Come back here again and you'll wish this is all you get!' she barked before looking up at the new arrivals. 'What's your business?'
'Is this the Stoat and Pitcher?' Lysette asked tremulously, stunned by the giantess's massive shoulders and arms.
The woman glanced at the dangling critter and jug and then looked back at the pair.
'Aye. What's your business?' Her tone hardened.
'We seek a Herr Corbin Radman, Ma'am, and were told he was staying here. Could you tell us if that is correct please?'
'Aye. It be 'correct'. You bring money? The young professor's starting to run low.'
'We are acquaintances of his father. May we see him?'
'Aye. He's in the common room. Planning his next 'expedition'. Stables are round back and there's rooms if you want them. Or the common room floor. It's clean, I sweeps it daily.'
'I'll stable the horses.' Veidt swung himself down from his saddle, eyed appreciatively by their new host. Lysette also dismounted, somewhat gingerly, and gratefully handed her reins to Veidt. The big woman watched him lead the horses away before she turned back to Lysette.
'Right. Professor's inside, I have ale & wine, cold meats & bread, hot stew & pie. I don't get many ladies travelling through these parts, but I can get you a room to yourself if you want. That'll be a shilling a night, food drink paid as you order. The common room is 6 pennies per night, same rule on food. Now, what'll you be taking?'
'I'll have the room, thank you.'
'That'll be a shilling.'
Lysette glanced at the hard face looming over her and reached for her purse.
A kind word for the Stoat and Pitcher would be rustic. An unkind word would be primitive. Plain unvarnished tables were surrounded by equally unvarnished stools and benches. The bar was stained with untold years' worth of assorted libations and, the way their hostess kept order, presumably other substances as well.
Lysette entered behind the hulking landlady and took stock of the room. A young disheveled man pored over documents at a table. Lysette surmised that he was Corbin Radman. He was surrounded by half a dozen assorted men, all armed, and all wearing the same calculating hardbitten look. The looks turned to leers as Lysette approached.
'Herr Radman?'
'Mm?' the young man continued poring over his maps.
'I am Lysette Voss. Your father sent me.'
'Did he send us anything too?' One of the men grinned wolfishly.
'If not, we'll all have to share.' Another man suggested. Loud laughter filled the room and ended abruptly when the landlady suddenly loomed over the bar.
'You'll behave yourselves in my inn, or the only thing you'll be sharing is what teeth I leave in your thick skulls.' Her knuckles whitened around an enormous club-like rolling pin which stabbed out like an accusing finger.
'Easy Gwen, we meant no harm. Just surprised to see such a fine lady in these parts.' The leader's eyes roamed over Lysette. 'Very fine indeed.'
Corbin Radman turned to see Lysette and his brow furrowed in confusion.
'Did you bring any money?'
'I am Lysette Voss.' Lysette repeated, extending her hand. Corbin Radman took it after a moment. 'Your father sent my colleague and myself to aid you in your work here.'
'Your colleague?'
'Yes, Herr Arne Veidt. He is tending to our horses now.'
'Only two of you? These parts are fraught with dangers. How did you fare?'
'Our ride from Siegfriedhof to here was most harrowing, I must admit. Those woods seemed to brim over with evil.' Despite herself Lysette shuddered, recalling her father's stories from his time as a cadet in Siegfriedhof, tales of gangs of flesh-eating ghouls prowling through the mist shrouded trees ever in search of fresh meat. On her ride, Lysette had fancied several times that she had glimpsed blood red eyes glaring out from the darkness beneath the canopy.
'You were fortunate indeed.' Remarked one man. 'We were beset by a pack of damned creatures. Almost did for young Clem there, didn't they?'
A young man flushed at his comrades' barbs and was about to retort when a shadow filled the doorway.
'Herr Corbin, may I present my colleague, Herr Arne Veidt?'
Veidt strode forward and his hand engulfed Corbin's. The other supported a small iron chest bearing the crest of the Radman family. Corbin's eyes lit up at the sight and fished a key on a leather thong from under his shirt.
'Here, here, set it down.'
Veidt did as he was bid and Radman threw back the lid to reveal a trove of gold crowns. The young man sighed with relief and slammed the lid shut, locking it and returning the key to its former resting place. Reanimated, he gestured to the men around him.
'Lady Voss, Herr Veidt, I present Captain Mikhail Kraynik and his lieutenant, Oskar Krilencu.'
Two burly men stood and bowed. Long black hair and moustaches showed their Kislevite heritage.
'Herr Sancho Paz.'
A fat man stood and bowed to Lysette, ill disguised lust swimming across his swarthy features. A scar writhed down his right cheek to his neck and a memory flashed through Lysette's mind. She cast back through the assorted warrants, bulletins and messages that flowed through Verena's Temples and Shrines, trying to pin down an elusive detail.
'And finally, Herrs Clement Shirestock and Pieter Hylenski.' The young man stood with a slightly older man and both bowed. Lysette bobbed in response.
'How is your search going Herr Radman? Your father gave us some idea of what you were looking for, but he did not know much. He made mention of a sword?'
'The Ravensong!' Corbin Radman said excitedly. 'A runesword crafted by a Master Runesmith and blessed by the High Priest of the Temple. It was supposedly entrusted to a Templar of Morr, a Brother Troy Jekinsi, who accompanied a Witch Hunter named Ludwig Goranson into the city. According to Valance's final confession, Goranson coveted the sword and determined to take it and reconsecrate it to Sigmar and his work in Mordheim. Goranson and his zealots beset Jekinsi who fought them off, grievously wounding Goranson himself as he fled deeper into the city. I believe the sword to still be somewhere in Mordheim and I can find it! Then I shall join the ranks of the Guild of Merchant Adventurers and Dreisden as one of the most eminent scholars of our time!'
Veidt noticed the men roll their eyes at Radman's outburst. Lysette presumed they had heard all this before.
'But you have been unsuccessful.' Lysette prompted, then hurried to mollify the young man. 'So far.'
'But you see the maps are still accurate.' Radman pointed out gesturing at the mess of papers on the table. Lysette recognized them as the same ones Maurice Radman had shown them back in Eicheschatten. 'Dreisden's plan matches the Witch Hunter's map quite closely. Now, Valance's confession detailed the attack here around the Wizards' Mansions,' A pin pierced the map. 'And Hrothgar stated the Templar fled south towards the Clock Tower, perhaps seeking to make his way to the southern gate.'
'That still leaves a lot of city to hide in.' Lysette noted. 'And it's close to the Pit itself. But I wonder about the south gate. That's a long way for a wounded man, especially as pursued as he was. It seems more likely to me that he would have tried to circle back around and get out the way he came in. If half the stories of Mordheim are even close to being true, a wounded man fleeing deeper into the city would be suicide. What does the confession say?'
Corbin shrugged. 'Just that they pursued the Templar towards the clock tower and lost him when they were ambushed by the Cult of the Possessed. About here.' Another street corner was speared.
'Where did the attack come from?' Lysette asked, finally caught up in the hunt.
'From the south-west, Valance records.'
'Then the Templar's most likely path would be along here.' Lysette traced a pin along a street heading east and up another going north.
'Yes yes.' Corbin nodded in agreement. 'that path would take him back towards the Wizard's Mansions and the eastern gate! This must be a sign? Our quest cannot fail! We start for the Clock Tower at dawn!'
'Let's not get ahead of ourselves!' Lysette hastily spoke, regretting encouraging the young man so wholly. 'There is still a great deal of ground there and the ruins could still hold untold dangers.' But despite urging caution, Lysette felt a thrill race through her at the prospect of recovering an ancient and potent weapon as well as unearthing whatever other treasures they may find along the way. She idly wondered if it was the siren song of Mordheim's ruins, her own nature, or an intoxicating blend of the two. The thought weighed on her mind all that night and her dreams brought her strange dark visions of the infamous cursed city.
Lysette was woken the next morning to a heavy tread and muted voices outside her room. She slipped over to the door and opened it a sliver. Gwen was there with Veidt, having obviously exited her bedroom together. Lysette gaped as the intimidating barkeep giggled and took Veidt's arm like a nervous maiden with her swain. They kissed at the top of the stairs and Gwen waved coquettishly as Veidt went down to the common room. Sighing dreamily Gwen made her way back towards her room and spied Lysette peering through the cracked door. Lysette and Gwen both flushed with embarrassment.
'I was just heading down for some breakfast before we depart.' Lysette said brightly, trying to break the tension.
'Porridge is on. Bread & cheese is ready.' Gwen replied, stonefaced.
'Splendid.' She took a step forward when Gwen's large hand caught her arm.
'Are you with Arne? I don't jump another's claim, but he didn't say anything.'
'No, no.' Lysette reddened again. 'Veidt is his own man. And anyway, I'm a widow.'
'Mm. Best way to get over a dead man is to saddle up a stallion like that and take him for a ride.' Gwen grinned. 'Make you thank Shallya you're a woman.'
Lysette mumbled something and stumbled downstairs, redder than she thought possible and tried not to meet Veidt's eye.
'All set for the off?' Corbin Radman greeted her.
'Yes, yes absolutely.' Lysette almost shouted, grateful for the distraction. 'How do we get into the city?'
'Father Lundquist.'
'Who is Father Lundquist?'
'He's a priest of Taal or some kind of holy man. He has a garden by the old wall and lets us go over the break there. Gwen put us on to him. She buys herbs and vegetables from him and he sells potions and remedies.'
Father Lundquist was at the outskirts of his garden when the group first saw him and he appeared to be measuring something with a stick. Whatever it was seemed to please him as he approached them chortling and rubbing his hands in glee. He appeared somewhat old, with a mess of greying hair pulled back from his face, and tall, though still a head shorter than Veidt and quite gangly. He wore a simple robe was covered in soil and grass stains and his eyes brimmed with warmth and wisdom. He looked the part of a simple country priest through and through.
'Good morrow Father. You seem quite pleased, another bumper crop?'
'Two yards Master Radman! A full two yards! My garden borders continue at a joyous pace.' He spied Lysette Veidt. 'New faces?'
'Father Per Lundquist, may I present Lady Lysette Voss of the Temple of Verena and Herr Arne Veidt, aid from my father.'
Lysette curtsied to the old man, who bowed rather floridly in return. Veidt simply nodded.
'Two yards Father?' Lysette asked.
'Indeed, two whole yards. My garden is slowly reclaiming the ruins. The blessings of Mother Rhya rain upon me.'
'You are reclaiming Mordheim?' Lysette was mystified.
'Yes. You see all the comet did was inflict a wound upon the earth. A grievous wound certainly, one filled with poison and filth, but a wound none the less. And such wounds can be healed. All it takes is the right 'medicine' if you will. With the blessings of Father Taal and Mother Rhya, my garden will gradually heal the blight on this land, dispelling the dark magic pervading it and restoring it to beyond its former glory.'
Lysette looked around at the garden and had to admit she was impressed. It was verdant and lush with succulent fruits hanging from trees and bushes and some of the most glorious pumpkins she'd ever seen spilled out from their patches.
'Mistress Gwen will be along for those today.' Father Lundquist stated seeing Lysette's gaze. 'You'll be enjoying those tonight after your little trip.'
'We must be off Father. See you later.'
'Taal's blessings on you.' Father Lundquist sketched a blessing in the group's direction as they began clambering over the mossy rocks of the old city wall.

Sickly decaying buildings met Lysette's gaze as the group made their way towards the ruins of the ancient clock tower. Magnus the Pious had razed Mordheim when he had come here, effectively ending the Age of Three Emperors, but jagged skeletal remains still stood after the efforts of more than five centuries. Lysette shivered. There was no birdsong, nor any obvious signs of life. Wraith-like mist hung in shrouds in shattered rooms and gutters, impervious to the weak strained sunlight that ineffectually shone down on them. Chill damp pervaded the air and shadows seem to writhe and twist in the weak daylight. The group moved as quickly as they dared, the sun's path marking time on their quest. She stayed close to Radman, determined to fulfill her mission as best she could. Veidt was on her right, bow in hand, arrow nocked and other hand floating close to the pantheon of weapons about his waist. Shirestock was on her left, gripping a battered crossbow like a lifeline. Paz and Hylenski hung back a few paces, scanning their flanks whilst Captain Kraynik and Krilencu guarded their rear.
A peal of unearthly laughter froze the group in their tracks and each man trained their weapons at the menacing darkness that seemed to fill every crevice of the ruins. Lysette brandished her falchion at a possible ambush point as the laughter built in pitch, echoing off the ancient houses and streets until it seemed as though the city itself were mocking them for their foolish audacity in setting foot on its cursed cobblestones. Finally, the echoes died away, leaving them all thoroughly rattled.
The group moved on, more slowly as their path wound deeper into the city. The laughter had convinced Lysette that Mordheim's reputation, even now, was well deserved, and that it's horrors were all too real.
Creeping past the ruins of a mansion, the group started again to the sound of faint music playing. Lysette, Shirestock and Hylenski all gasped at the macabre sight of ghosts, dressed in the finery of a long bygone age, prancing and cavorting to the strains of an ancient orchestra in the shadows the old house threw.
Suddenly the sonorous sound of a bell tolled out.
'The Crier!' Kraynik gasped. 'Take cover!'
The group scrambled behind some rubble as the somber sound grew closer.
'Don't look.' Hylenski hissed at Lysette and Veidt. 'You'll die!'
A figure slowly paced down the street, a large bell gripped in his right hand. Every few steps, another mournful clang emanated from the bell even though the figure's arm did not move.
'Ere before this day's sun turns red, all those present will lie dead.'
Nothing the figure did indicated he had seen the group or that he had spoken, but the eerie words echoed around the street in a grim cacophony of doom.
The figure strode on, his awful prophecy repeating between clangs until he was finally lost to view.
'What was that?' Lysette gulped.
'The Crier.' Kraynik tersely replied. 'If he sees you, you die.'
'But what is he? A daemon? A ghost?' Lysette pressed.
'No one knows.' Krilencu replied. 'Sightings of him go back to the comet. Some say his words are warnings, others a curse. But death follows the Crier like a hound his master, that much we do know.'
'Let's get moving. 'Kraynik ordered. 'The day wears on.'

Finally reaching the Clock Tower ruins, Radman and Lysette pored over maps before reaching agreement. The group fanned out again, Lysette close by Radman, Veidt and Shirestock scanning the streets.
Lysette noticed her companion's eyes darting around each and every point and he checked behind them constantly. 'What's wrong?'
'We're being followed.'
'The Crier?' Lysette paled.
'No. Others.'
'How many?' Kraynik asked.
'Don't know. More than us.'
Lysette's mind reeled. The legends of Mordheim featured every imaginable horror, from the Skaven ratmen to the servants of both the Ruinous Powers and the Vampire Counts of Sylvania, as well as hordes of sell swords from every corner of the Empire and beyond. Her imagination populated every shadow with legions of enemies.
'Focus. ' Veidt's voice cut through her. 'Whoever they are, they're hanging back far enough to not be noticed.'
'You noticed.'
'Shadows are long.' Veidt grinned.
'What are they waiting for?' Radman hissed.
'For us to lead them where they want to go.' Lysette surmised. 'Are there any other groups looking for the Ravensong?'
'There's always a group looking for something in this city.' Kraynik cut in.
'Then it's possible we've been marked.' Krilencu stated.
'Should we cut out now?' Hylenski asked.
'No!' Radman almost yelled. 'We are so close now! I know it! We can't stop, we just can't!'
The young man suddenly surged forward away from Lysette. She tried to grab at his arm but he was already gone, slipping by Veidt's futile lunge and racing away from the group.
'Come on!' Lysette yelled. The mercenaries chased after her, unwilling to see their paymaster vanish. They rounded the corner and ran straight into Radman who was staring, wide-eyed down the street. Lysette rounded on him furiously.
'Don't ever do that again!' She hissed. 'An imbecile knows this place is far too dangerous to run around alone, so what in Verena's name are you doing?'
Radman ignored her and took a step forward. 'This way.' he murmured. 'We need to go this way.'
'How do you know?'
'He showed me.'
'Who?'
Radman ignored the question and walked forward again as if in a dream. The group formed up around him and Lysette took her place at his side. They crept through the streets with Radman abruptly changing direction periodically, eyes locked on something straight ahead of him.
Kraynik & Krilencu muttered to each other in their native Kislev. Lysette knew a few words, but could only make out the word 'mad'.
'Herr Radman?' She questioned their leader. 'Where are we going?'
'To the Ravensong.' The young man replied. His eyes did not move. 'He's guiding us.'
'Who is guiding us?'
'Jekinsi. He has deemed us worthy and now guides our quest. See?'
Lysette strained to see into the gloom of the ruins and thought she could make out a figure up ahead.
'It may be a trap.' She noted, Kraynik and Veidt nodding in agreement. 'Let us be on guard.'
The group continued on following Radman's trance-like steps until they reached the ruins of a large house. Radman suddenly sprang forward again and began pawing at the rubble.
'Here.' He cried. 'We go down here.'
'Quietly!' Kraynik hissed. 'We're not alone.'
Lysette watched Veidt's arms as he heaved a boulder aside and Gwen's words came back to her. She pinkened as she idly wondered on his previous night's exertions and that they hadn't fatigued him at all. Maybe Gwen was right. Reiner Voss was long dead and life did move on. And Veidt was not without his attractions. Was she just using her widow status to avoid affairs of the heart? Hiding behind black robes and empty protestations?
'Found something!' Paz and Veidt heaved a stone aside and revealed an ancient stairway leading down.
Guiltily Lysette jerked out of her reverie and resumed her watch. This city! It was insidious, creeping inside your mind and twisting the very thoughts in your head!
Rejoining Radman at the head of the stair, Lysette peered into the impenetrable murk. Hylenski and Radman handed out torches and Paz produced flint and steel.
'Easy on the stairs lads.' Kraynik urged. 'No telling what weight they'll hold.'
'Paz, you first.' quipped Krilencu. The fat Tilean responded with an obscene gesture.
Veidt took the lead, slowly lowering his weight down on each step in turn. Hylenski and Shirestock came next, followed by Lysette and Radman, Kraynik and Krilencu with Paz bringing up the rear.
Shadows writhed on the walls in the flickering torchlight as the group fanned out. Veidt covered the stairs and Lysette followed Radman's questing torch as he probed the recesses of the room.
'There's another room here. Through this opening.'
The men converged on the hole. Radman wriggled through before Lysette could protest, so she quickly followed him. The rest followed with Paz filling the air with Tilean curses as he forced his way through. He was quickly silenced.
The small chamber held the solemnity of a tomb. Radman gasped and slid forward. Against the far wall lay a suit of armor, laid out in the classical style. And in the crossed hands was a sword.
'It's really here.' Radman almost sobbed. 'I've found it.'
'Well take it and let's go!' Kraynik hissed. 'The day wears on!'
Lysette knelt at Radman's side and murmured what prayers she could recall to both Verena and Morr, prayers of gratitude and forgiveness for despoiling the Templar's tomb. The others made various signs to their respective gods, all eyeing the exit.
A breeze seemed to blow through the chamber when Radman took the sword and Lysette could have sworn it whispered 'Continue my work.'
'Come on!' Veidt hissed. 'We need to go!'
Extricating themselves from the Templar's final resting place, the group swiftly made their way back into the city streets. Radman was dancing with glee, hugging the Ravensong to him like a child reunited with a favorite toy.
'Right, where are we?' Kraynik took charge, seeking a bearing to start the journey home. Lysette realized that Radman's 'route' had taken them far off their initial course and produced the maps she was carrying to assist.
'Where are you? You are in the grace of the most blessed Sigmar.'
Weapons flew from sheaths as the group rapidly formed a circle.
'Brothers, be at peace.' The voice spoke again. Then a tall fair haired man dressed in fine quality clothes and armor appeared from around a corner. Lysette could see a finely crafted pistol hanging from his belt, but it was the tall buckled hat on his head that truly identified him.
'A Witch Hunter.' She breathed.
'Indeed, fair lady.' The man bowed gracefully. 'Allow me to present myself. I am Captain Silas Hildebrand of the Order of the Silver Hammer and I must congratulate you, Herr Radman, on your success this day.'
Lysette's heart raced. The Order of the Silver Hammer were some of the most feared men in the Empire. Dedicated to rooting out corruption, mutation and heresy, the Order carried the writ of the Grand Theogonist himself, giving them almost unchallenged authority across the lands of men. They enjoyed a reputation of brutality and mercilessness, submitting people of all social walks of life to unspeakable tortures in their quest to purge the Empire of sin. They had fought in the streets of Mordheim since the comet's fall and had clearly not finished their work in this foul place.
'Captain Hildebrand.' Radman returned the bow. 'How fortunate to find you in good health in this dangerous place. Ever on watch to protect us from the denizens of the Dread City.'
The Captain smiled wolfishly as he approached. 'I also seek out means to continue my work. All the better to protect the righteous. I had hoped to devote the Ravensong for that purpose.'
The Witch Hunter's tone was unmistakable and Radman's hand gripped the runesword tighter.
'It seems that the sword is destined for other purposes.' Radman stated. 'Otherwise, how could it be that it was directed into my hands as opposed to yours?'
'It may be so that you could you see Sigmar's holy light.' Hildebrand countered. 'But, as you have the sword, allow me to see that it is the genuine article. Master Vendrikssen!'
A smaller figure appeared from around the corner and approached the pair. Shorter than each man, but almost broader than both together, the dwarf was clad in a dark and scarred breastplate over his finely wrought mail. A conical helmet crouched over quick intelligent looking eyes, and a massive hand held a hammer that a blacksmith would have struggled to lift. Unlike most dwarfs Lysette had seen, his dark grey beard did not flow down his chest, but was instead clipped almost to his jaw.
'This is Runesmith Klug Vendrikssen of the Ironjaw Clan. I retained his services to authenticate the sword, should I have been the one to find it. As he is here, pray allow him to examine the blade and ensure that what you have is indeed the Ravensong.'
Radman said nothing as the dwarf stumped out to him and extended a hand. There was a very pregnant pause and Radman's group gripped their weapons tightly. Then Radman handed the sword to the dwarf.
'Agreed. I can hardly present the wrong sword to the Guild of Merchant Adventurers. What say you Master Runesmith?'
The dwarf drew the blade from its scabbard. The first thing Lysette noticed was that the blade was black. Not black. Darker. The dwarf looked like he was holding a sliver of night in his hand. He turned the blade this way and that, bringing it close to his eyes to examine the minutia of detail before swinging the blade in arcs to feel it's weight and balance. Finally, he resheathed the sword and bowed his head, murmuring what sounded like a prayer in the dwarf tongue.
'There is no doubt.' The dwarf proclaimed. 'This is the work of my Master Thorek Ironbrow. This is the blade of the raven, forged by his own hand in the most sacred fires of Karak Azul. To bear this is to bear the most ancient and sacred traditions of my people.'
'Then it is decided.' Hildebrand proclaimed. 'The sword must be turned over to The Order of the Silver Hammer to continue the great work. Kneel Corbin Radman. Kneel and receive Sigmar's blessing for recovering such a vital tool in the preservation of our Empire!'
'The sword is mine.' Radman flatly replied. 'I found it. Under the rules of recovery, it is mine to do with as I deem fit.'
'Surely you cannot deny the need for such a weapon?' Hildebrand snarled. 'The forces of the Dark Ones threatened our very existence less than a summer ago! Give me the Ravensong! Far better it be in the hands of a warrior engaged in the sacred work of preserving our glorious Empire than some foppish dandy who only seeks to aggrandize his own name!'
As the Witch Hunter ranted, men began to creep from their own hiding places in the ruins and surround the group. Lysette watched as two men took up positions on the remnants of a first floor and aimed bows at her and Radman.
'Repent, young Radman.' Hildebrand continued. 'Repent and join the light. Turn over the sword and go forth to spread to word of Sigmar with my blessing. Or face the consequence of all heretics.'
Kraynik and the men readied their weapons for battle, but Lysette could see they were outnumbered.
'Wait!' She cried. 'Wait! I am of the Temple of Verena!' She produced her warrant and thrust it at Hildebrand. 'Surely a member of the Order of the Silver Hammer would not take up arms against a fellow cult member? Or her allies?'
'Indeed not good sister.' Hildebrand admitted. 'Unless they stood in the way of the great work! To arms, men of Sigmar! Take these heretics and deliver them unto the purifying flames!'
Klug Venrikssen stood between the two groups, utterly bewildered by the events unfolding around him.
'You can't burn the girl!' he protested. 'She's one of you.'
'Silence good dwarf. The enemies of the Empire are legion, but their numbers shall be fewer by sundown.'
The Crier's awful prophecy echoed through Lysette's mind as she raised her sword and again her thoughts turned to the curious path her life had taken.
'Never thought I'd die in Mordheim.' She muttered.
'We're not dead yet.' Veidt answered.
'Take them!' Hildebrand commanded.
Then Klug Vendrikssen moved. His hammer flew from his hand across the square and smashed into the single column holding up the floor the two archers were perched on. The bare brick shattered under the dwarven weapon's impact and the building tottered before collapsing. The archers' shrieks were barely audible over the din and the Witch Hunter's band froze.
With sight blurring swiftness, Veidt's bowstring was at his ear and a shaft flashed across the street to take a crossbow wielding man in the throat heartbeats before a second took down his comrade. Shirestock spun and fired his own weapon, but only found a shield. Then with a cry, the Witch Hunters rallied and charged. Veidt dropped his bow and his hand filled with blade as his other freed his shield.
'Behind me!' he ordered and Lysette gratefully shrank into his shadow, keeping Radman between them. Steel rang on steel as battle was joined. Kraynik and Krilencu flanked Veidt with the others finishing the crude circle. Lysette found herself side by side with Paz, with the swarthy Tilean swiftly gutting one luckless foe with a wicked looking short sword. Lysette desperately tried to remember Veidt's lessons, parrying and slashing at anyone within her reach.
Veidt had already felled another man and was hacking at another when Lysette saw Hildebrand raise his pistol. The gun flashed and barked at the large man. There was a emspang/em, and Veidt rocked back on his heels, but did not fall. His opponent seized the moment and swung his warhammer. Veidt parried the attack, but his falchion shattered against his opponent's weapon, leaving a mere shard protruding from the hilt. But the doughty warrior was still able to block the return swing and opened the luckless hammer wielder's throat with the fragment before casting the ruined weapon aside and snatching the axes from his belt. He began laying about him with his new weapons and the Witch Hunters began to fall back before him.
A bestial roar bellowed across the battleground and both sides faltered at the cry.
A shaggy humanoid form bellowed again and gestured at the halted melee. Over seven feet in height, the figure was covered in matted bloody fur and twisted parodies of ram's horns sprouted from its massive brow. They curled up over the creature's head, adding to its awful stature. A crude cleaver like blade was clutched in one hand and the other gestured to its cohorts as it brayed another ferocious challenge.
A tide of twisted parodies rushed forward at their leader's command and enemies instantly became allies against the common enemy. Lysette watched in horror as a lumbering humanoid opened a maw that split the length of its body as it rushed a young lad, the youth barely having time to scream before the creature engulfed him. Lysette dragged Radman back, the young man flailing the Ravensong about like he was swatting at flies. Veidt had taken advantage of the lull to snatch up his bow and sent shafts singing across the square into the oncoming throng. A cat headed monstrosity clawed futilely at the arrow embedded in its eye and a leather skinned creature doubled over as a shaft sank in to its belly. A shadow warned Lysette just in time for her to parry a spear thrust at her chest. A skinny bird-like creature thrust again, small wings flapping madly to keep it airborne. Radman leaned over and clumsily chopped at the beast, shrieking as its spear found his arm as it dodged. It came in again and Lysette parried once more. But this time she seized the spear with her left hand and managed to cleave one wing away with her counterattack. The creature screamed and, dropping its weapon, turned to flee. But it had barely taken a step when a hammer pounded its skull into the cobbles. Klug Vendrikssen wrenched his weapon free with a wet pop and planted himself in front Lysette Radman.
'Damn me as an elf if I take up arms against a woman.' The doughty dwarf growled. 'Especially a Temple Maiden.'
Lysette decided diplomacy was the better part of valor and did not correct her new ally as to her actual title. The Dwarf showed himself to be as skilled a warrior as any Lysette had seen, his hammer blurring the air, pulping skulls and shattering weapons and limbs with equal ease. Lysette turned to the whey-faced Radman and hurriedly tore the bloody sleeve from his shirt and wadded it into a makeshift bandage over his wound.
'Pull back!' Kraynik ordered. 'Let them fight it out!'
The circle began to creep to one side of the square where an alleyway beckoned to them. Hildebrand saw the maneuver and shrieked orders to his men, but the horde of beastmen and mutants pressed the Witch Hunters hard, and none could pursue their prize. Lysette glimpsed the infuriated Captain aim his pistol towards her before a huge horned monster charged him. He hastily reaimed and fired and his scream echoed in Lysette's ears as she ducked down the alley to safety. Veidt covered the rear with his bow as they took stock.
'Hylenski's dead.' Shirestock stated. 'I saw a Witch Hunter wound him, then one of those things got him.'
Lysette and Radman gaped in shock. Although she had seen death before in the battle with the pirates at Eichschatten, the death of an ally still hit her hard. Radman looked like he was going to cry. Vendriksen just shrugged and muttered what Lysette hoped was a prayer for the young man.
'We need to move.' Veidt stated.
'Aye.' Kraynik agreed. 'This is no place to be after dark.'
The sun was already falling towards the horizon and they had a wounded man.
The group moved out again, Lysette aiding Radman in navigating the maze of alleyways and ancient streets. Lysette watched Kraynik and Krilencu move among their men and suspicion began to take root. She glanced at Veidt and Vendrikssen, trying to convey her fears, but neither man or dwarf registered her concern.
At last the group paused for a few moments and Lysette held a waterskin for Radman before gratefully downing a draught herself. Examining the young man, she prayed that they would leave Mordheim soon. His gaze was vacant, his skin pale and clammy and she had taken over navigating. She checked the bandage again and noted how it was sopping with his blood. Radman needed medical aid with increasing urgency. Lysette was trying to recall whether she had seen anything resembling a physician' sign in Brigandsburg when a scrape of gravel broke in on her.
Immediately throwing herself to one side, Lysette heard air part as Paz's sword clanged against stone.
'Veidt! Vendrikssen!'
'Notched my blade.' The Tilean muttered. 'That'll cost you.' He leered and, bringing the blade to his mouth, licked the tip.
Lysette's mind clicked. 'The Terror of Trantio. I knew I recognized you from somewhere. You butchered six innocent girls over one summer. The ones who didn't die immediately reported their attacker having a scar on the right cheek and that he licked his blade before he butchered them.'
Paz nodded, impressed. 'Now you get to be number seven. That's lucky, I'm told. Then your friend there. He'll be a mercy killing. Putting wounded men out their misery is a real act of kindness, don't you think? Of course the gold and the sword will be of some comfort to us until our next employer. Maybe that Witch Hunter will pay us a fair price for it? But that's for another day. I don't like keeping a lady waiting.'
He stepped forward as Lysette shuffled back, palming a handful of dirt. Curses spewed from the swarthy man as he wiped the thrown grit from his eyes, sword thrust forward to ward of a counterattack, then he laughed to see Lysette regain her feet and draw her sword.
'Oh, the fun I'm going to have with you.' Paz grinned as he raised his blade. Radman attempted to intervene, but Paz simply felled him with a single punch.
Lysette lashed out at Paz's thick neck, but the veteran casually parried. Lysette struck out again and again with the same result, backing away as the Tilean stalked her relentlessly.
Cautious could beat bold. Lysette repeated Veidt's phrase over and over as she struggled to stay calm. Paz's confidence was her only advantage and she wondered how to use it.
Paz's attack came fast and Lysette fumbled to parry, barely turning the blade aside with a screech of steel. Her counterattack was turned aside with ease and Paz laughed again. Lysette ducked under a swipe and lunged, only to have Paz casually parry and send her tumbling to the dirt again. Lysette rolled to her feet and attacked anew.
'Yes,' Paz murmured. 'I like it when they fight back.'
Attacking in a simple pattern, a germ of an idea appeared in Lysette's mind. Paz parried all her attacks with the skill of long experience, so she had to somehow turn that to her advantage. She cut again, in the same pattern with Paz again frustrating her blade with ease, and then repeated, wary of any counterthrust. Paz appeared to be enjoying himself and seemed in no mood to exploit her weak defense. With a prayer to any god listening Lysette cut again and again and watched Paz's blade drop to parry her low thrust. She lunged high and saw Paz's eyes widen in shock as her blade bit into the base of his throat. Lysette drove the blade all the way until she was almost nose to nose with the Terror of Trantio.
'It seems I am lucky after all.' She told the dying man and lowered her sword, allowing the dead man to slide to the ground and into the arms of Morr.
Cursing and the clash of steel indicated that her comrades had survived ambushes of their own. Dragging Radman behind her, Lysette sought to aid her friends as best she could.
She was just in time to see Klug Vendrikssen sweep Shirestock's legs out from under him and drop his hammer down on the young man's chest.
'Stupid boy.' The dwarf muttered at the shattered corpse. 'Dwarf ears are keen.'
Shouts up ahead indicated that both Kraynik and Krilencu had elected to attack the burly giant. Axes whirling, Veidt held both Kislevites at bay as they circled him. Both attacked from opposite sides, but Veidt parried and deflected both blades with amazing speed, catching Krilencu's arm as the Kislevite thrust, and crushing his skull with the heavy iron he wielded. Kraynik screamed at the death of his lieutenant and attacked in blind fury. Steel clashed and spun until Veidt caught the Mercenary Captain alongside his head with the back of an axe. Kraynik screamed again and opened a gash on his opponent's thigh before fleeing into the city ruins. The big man drew ragged breaths and Lysette could see blood trickling from cuts on his arms.
'Sit down. ' she commanded. 'We need to get those taken care of.'
'I've had worse.' Veidt replied and waved her off once she had bound the wound on his leg. 'We need to get out of here.'
Lysette gulped as she realized the veracity of Veidt's statement. The sun was already setting and darkness was falling on the City of the Damned. The Crier's words echoed in her head again and she fought the panic rising within her.
'We can't be that far now.' she gulped. With the dying light, Lysette checked the map and estimated their bearing. But the shadows were swallowing the city and landmarks were barely discernable. 'I think we go that way.'
The quartet moved off, Veidt leading, Lysette aiding Radman and Vendrikssen bringing up the rear.
'How is it this cold already? The sun just set and it's summer.' Veidt groused, covering the lengthening shadows with his bow.
'It's Mordheim.' Lysette replied. 'Normality left here when the comet hit.' She looked around at the buildings again, then back at the map. 'Do we have any torches?'
Veidt shook his head. 'Lost them back at the fight.'
'Damn. Well, we're lost. Do we try and press on, or try and make camp for the night?'
'How's the boy?'
'In need of a physician. He's lost a lot of blood and I don't know how much longer he can last.'
'How're our supplies?'
'I have a half full waterskin. You?'
'Lost it in the ambush along with my shield. He have anything?' Veidt nodded at Radman.
'Only the Ravensong.' Lysette glanced at Vendriksen who shook his head.

Veidt abruptly motioned for silence, peering into the blackness ahead. Vendrikssen hefted his hammer and made ready for an ambush from the rear. Lysette shifted Radman to her other arm and raised her sword. A birdlike cry came from up ahead and repeated. Veidt nocked an arrow and aimed towards the sound as it came again.
'Someone's signaling.' The big man murmured.
'To us?' Lysette hissed.
'Or something close by. Could be Kraynik. We're too exposed here, we should move and find somewhere more defendable.'
Glancing around the warren of streets and alleyways, Lysette had to agree. Hefting Radman up, she followed Veidt into the darkness. The call echoed through the dark as the foursome trekked through the dark, relying on Veidt's instincts to guide them. Vendrikssen offered to take Radman, but Lysette shook her head, preferring that the dwarf remain unencumbered in case of ambush. Veidt finally found a small room that had escaped the razing, walls on all sides and a relatively intact roof. The big man took up position by the door as Lysette made Radman as comfortable as possible. The young man groaned slightly as Lysette felt his brow and the clammy cold sweat that coated it. Shaking her head, Lysette reached for her waterskin and dribbled some into his slackjawed mouth.
'It's getting closer.' Veidt cautioned. The call was coming quicker now, almost urgent. Veidt's bowstring had remained at his ear since discovering their shelter and Lysette marveled at his strength as time dragged on.
The call came from right outside and the tension was beyond palpable. Veidt seemed at almost bursting point as he vainly hunted for the caller.
'Taal's blessings.' Came a hoarse whisper. 'Taal's blessings on you all.'
'Father Lundquist?' Lysette voiced, hoping against hope.
'Blessings on you, my children Blessings on those lost who are found.' The old man entered the room with a spryness that belied his years and went over to Radman and Veidt, clucking and tutting as he examined both men.
'The perils of Mordheim. Come, I'll tend to you both when we get back. Come now, no time to spare!'
'How did you find us?' Lysette asked in disbelief at their unlikely savior.
'Father Taal and Mother Rhya guided me. Poor lost souls in need of succor. Come! There is darkness all about.'
Lysette felt the priest was talking about more than the night and nodded thanks at Vendrikssen as he took Radman's burden. Lundquist hopped ahead, looking for all the world like a giant bird, skipping from rock to rock before gesturing and beckoning to the group. He carried no light and Lysette marveled at his unerring ability to pierce the dark and guide them onwards. A fearful suspicion began to fester in her heart that this may be yet another betrayal by the City of the Damned and the Crier's ominous words repeated over and over in her mind.
But in no apparent time at all, the darker shadow of the wall coalesced and Lundquist hastened them over the break. The scents of the old man's garden washed over Lysette and hope bloomed anew. Even the darkness in the hut seemed as welcoming as that of her own bedroom and she gratefully laid Radman down on Lundquist's cot, whispering a prayer of thanks to Shallaya as she noted his breathing. Lundquist lit some candles and bustled around grabbing herbs and things almost at random. He busied himself at the table for a moment before dropping down by Lysette and exposing the wound to his inquisitive candle.
'Could be worse.' The priest murmured. 'No infection set in yet, and you gave him water?'
Lysette nodded.
'Good. Hold him.' Lysette barely had time to lay her hands on her young comrade before Lundquist swabbed at the wound. Radman screamed and thrashed feebly on the cot at the less than tender ministrations, but quieted as Lundquist efficiently applied a poultice to his arm and bound it securely.
'Sleep now.' Lundquist whispered as he stroked the young man's brow and Radman immediately subsided into slumber. Lundquist then tended to Veidt.
'All of you. Sleep. I'll stay with him.'
No one needed any second invitation and Lysette laid out on the rushes of the hut's floor. As sleep overcame her, she imagined she could hear Lundquist singing almost under his breath. It sounded like another language, but she was too tired to give it any thought.
After what seemed like barely a moment a rough hand jerked her awake. Through bleary eyes, Lysette saw Veidt, Vendrikssen and Lundquist all tensed like dogs with a scent, peering out into the night. The twin moons of Mannslieb and Morrslieb bathed the garden in silver and green light and a mist had descended. Lysette squinted out, trying to see what held her comrades' gaze.
'What's out there?' she whispered. 'I don't see anything.'
Silence was her only answer. Then she saw something move. A figure lurched from the shadows and staggered towards the hut and Lysette gasped as she recognized them.
'It's Pieter!' she cried. 'Pieter! We're here!'
She threw the door open and stepped forward to aid her lost comrade. And screamed.
Cold dead eyes met hers as Hylenski shuffled towards her, apparently oblivious to the awful gash across his chest. Her mind reeled and cast up one dreadful word.
Zombie.
She barely felt Veidt's hand seize hers and drag her back into the hut, her eyes never leaving the sight of her desecrated former comrade and it took Veidt rapping her over the head with her falchion for her to even think of grasping her blade.
Lundquist slammed the door as Shirestock's corpse shambled up to the hut and fumbled with the latch before shaking and pounding on the meagre structure. Lysette shook her head and gulped, trying to compose herself for the fight to come.
'Taal preserve us.' Lundquist gasped.
'By Grimnir's beard.' Vendrikssen echoed.
Several more figures loomed out of the mist. As they neared, Lysette noticed that more than one wore the uniform of Silas Hildebrand's men.
The zombies swiftly surrounded the hut and began tearing at the simple structure. Lysette hacked one back from the widow and came face to face with the late Captain Kraynik. The zombie opened its mouth and moaned before its saber bit into the window frame. Lysette crossed swords and shoved her former comrade back.
The tang of ozone hit her as Lundquist spoke words of power and, with a single gesture, hurled the undead back from his home. The old man collapsed, chest heaving from the exertion.
'Haven't cast that in a few years.' Lundquist gasped. Lysette helped him to his feet and hugged him.
'You did it! You defeated them!'
'I'm not sure I did.' Lundquist grimaced and pointed. Lysette's heart sank as she saw the zombies rising from the thickening mist and again advance on the hut.
'Hold them back!' Veidt ordered.
Lysette, Lundquist and Vendrikssen all took up their positions and readied their weapons only to see Veidt swing himself up into the eaves of the hut.
'Veidt?! What are you doing?! Get down here and help us!' Lysette screamed.
'Hold them back!' the big man repeated.
Lysette found herself facing the corpse of Hylenski alongside Kraynik's and the pair began to pull at the window sill. The simple wattle and daub that made up much of the hut began to crack and tear under the relentless assault and Lysette did her best to drive the pair back, opening grievous wounds on both, but to no avail. She could see Vendrikssen, hammer glowing faintly as the doughty dwarf battled a pair of former Witch Hunters, and Lundquist as he muttered over a wooden dagger before slashing at a zombie reaching past the buckling door. The creature screeched and slumped in the doorway. Hope bloomed for a moment before another unholy creature took its place. Radman remained where he lay, unconscious to the battle raging.
'Get the sword!' Vendrikssen bellowed. 'Use the sword! It was forged to be the bane of the restless dead!'
Lysette scrambled to where Radman lay and yanked the sword from its sheath. She swung round and Lundquist ducked with a yell of warning. Lysette chopped at Kraynik as the zombie surged into the window frame, but the blade was parried and bit into the window sill.
'It's too heavy!' Lysette cried. 'Veidt! Take the sword!'
'I can't' came his voice from aloft.
'Why not?' Lysette screamed. Taking advantage of her distraction, Kraynik and Hylenski broke through the wall and forced their way in.
'Veidt! They're inside! For Shallya's sake do something!'
The trio drew together as the zombies closed in. Lysette murmured a prayer and prepared to meet Morr.
'Gotcha!'
The zombies abruptly dropped like marionettes with their strings cut and Veidt swung down from the eaves with the agility of a Southlands ape.
'What?' Lysette began to ask, but Veidt barreled past her and out into the night. He returned a few moments later dragging the corpse of an emaciated cadaverous looking man with an arrow in his chest and carrying a blighted and twisted wooden staff in his other hand which he promptly broke into several pieces.
'Who's he?' Lysette gaped.
'This' Veidt announced, kicking the corpse. 'is the necromancer guiding our old friends. I knew he was skulking around out there. Took him long enough to get within range.'
Vendrikssen spat on the necromancer. 'Let's get burning them then.'
Lysette watched as man and dwarf hefted the zombies and necromancer out into the garden and piled them together under Lundquist's guidance.
'You have enough magic to light this?' Veidt asked the weary priest.
Lundquist nodded. 'When it comes to scouring the taint of darkness from the land, I shall always have enough.'
He extended his hands, muttered a few words and fire erupted from his hands. The pile of corpses caught like oil soaked rages and soon the stench of burning flesh filled the air.
'Should we be worried about someone seeing that?' Lysette asked, gesturing to the blazing pyre.
Lundquist shook his head. 'No one of any concern to us. The Witch Hunters will have returned to Sigmarhaven, and the residents of Brigandsburg keep to their own business. Come, let us rest for what remains of the night.'

The sun peered over the horizon at the group outside the Stoat and Pitcher.
'She can be trusted to keep your secrets.' Lysette saw Lundquist pat Veidt on the shoulder and press some apples into the big man's hands. Veidt's eyes met Lysette's and he abruptly turned away to tend to his horse.
'What was that?' she asked.
'Some advice.' Lundquist rubbed his hands. 'Our friend carries a great burden.'
'Why would he trust me?' Lysette asked. 'We barely know each other. And I have no idea where he plans to go next.'
'He has a tale to tell.' The priest held up his hands. 'But it is only his to tell, so do not ask me. You and he have many journeys before you. I have seen it.'
Lysette recalled Veidt's evasiveness in their talks and looked around her at the damage the dawn's light revealed. 'I'm so sorry about your home. It's been ruined!'
'It will heal. Just as Mordheim will be healed. All it takes is time.'
Lysette leaned into Lundquist's genial face.
'How did you find us out there? We didn't even know where we were. How did you?'
'Father Taal guided me to you. I was able to use the animals of Mordheim to guide me to you.'
Lysette reflected on what she knew of the workings of the Empire Cults.
'That magic you did, and the way you healed Radman, that's not how priests work. You're a Cunning Man.'
Lundquist winced.
'I prefer the term Hedge Folk. It's marginally less pejorative.'
Not much was known of the mythic Hedge Folk. Dismissed as peasant quackery by many scholars and hunted by both the Witch Hunters and the Orders of Magic, the Hedge Folk nevertheless persisted throughout the Empire lands, keeping the old ways and rumored to practice a magic going back to the time of Sigmar and beyond.
Lysette nodded. 'The Temple of Verena is more concerned with the spirit of justice rather than the letter of law, and you've certainly been more than fair to me and my companions.' She paused & then asked a question. 'Do you think that it's coincidence that history repeated itself with the Ravensong? With the Witch Hunters fighting over it and then getting ambushed?'

Lundquist shrugged. 'Who can say? It may be that the powers here were amused by such a thought or that the Witch Hunters felt justified by their quest as they did before.'
'I just hope you'll be alright here.' Lysette sighed. 'I have been here many moons, and shall continue my work in healing this land. Go forth Lady Voss. Great things await you.'
With a mixture of relief and foreboding, Lysette turned to aid Radman as he struggled to mount his horse. He waved her away and managed to plant himself in the saddle.
'How's your arm?'
'Bearable. Father Lundquist's ministrations were a great relief and he has gifted me with enough salve to see both myself and Master Veidt home. Then I shall go on to Averheim and the Guild of Merchant Adventurers and present the Ravensong as proof of my worthiness for membership!'
'Let's focus of getting you home first.' Lysette counselled the eager young man. 'We've got days of hard riding ahead of us and you really need more time to recover your strength. Won't you reconsider? The Stoat and Pitcher has the room. A few days of rest and Gwen's cooking and you'll be much more able to cope with the journey.'
'Absolutely not. Hildebrand may have survived and others may hear of our success. I have no desire to be hunted like a rat across the length and breadth of the Empire by bloodthirsty Witch Hunters. No, the sooner the Ravensong is recorded by the Guild of Merchant Adventurers, the better.'
Lysette knew Radman enough by now that arguing was futile.
'Well, if we're ready, let's go.' Vendrikssen's voice cut in. The dwarf was precariously perched on Krilencu's horse and was nervously eyeing his new mount. "Sooner we get there, sooner I can off this beast.'
'Herr Vendrikssen is right. We must make Siegfriedhof by sunset.' Lysette announced.
Veidt hugged a stoic looking Gwen and, swinging himself into his saddle, blew her a kiss. The innkeeper waved as the quartet rode through the gates of Brigandsburg and began their long journey south.
Vendrikssen spouted dwarfish curses aimed at humans and their infernal long legged beasts as he bounced in the saddle, but both he and Veidt watched the woods like hawks as the horses broke into a canter.
Unseen eyes watched them leave.