Greetings everyone—this is my first attempt at writing fan fiction and the story is just something I threw together in my spare time, so I just hope it proves a reasonably entertaining read. I readily welcome all suggestions to improve my writing skills and feedback would be gretlyappreciated provided it is constructive.

Disclaimer: the participating characters contained in this story are my own creation. Everything else-the world of Warhammer, its history and the historical characters and places mentioned are the property of Games Workshop. This story is intended for viewing on only and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 1

Ambush

Dusk was approaching when Karl rode into the camp. Tying the chestnut mare to a nearby sapling and removing the saddle, he made his way to the fire where the others were seated.

Konrad glanced up at his approach, the glow of the fire casting flickering shadows across his face, illuminating a jagged scar running from the corner of his right eye to his lip. Karl had often wondered how he'd got that, but when asked the corporal merely grunted and refused to be drawn.

Removing his sword he sat down next to Reitz, a tall, gaunt man of about 40. Reitz had joined the patrol only two weeks previously from a posting further north and, preoccupied with his duties, Karl had not had sufficient time to get to know him.

"Anything to report?".

"No Corp. I've combed the area north of here for three hours. If they came this way they've left no trace". Karl reached out and tore a chunk from a loaf of stale bread. "Where's Frederick?" he asked, suddenly noting the absence of their fourth comrade.

"Up there" Konrad gestured absently to a large tree at the edge of the clearing. "His turn as sentry". He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Seems you were right Reitz. Come first light we'll rejoin the column".

Reitz nodded, visibly relieved. Karl couldn't blame him. The Forest of Shadows which covered most of Ostermark-northernmost province of the Empire-was a dark and forbidding place. Heavily overgrown with scrub, it was infested with brigands, Orcs and who knew what else. The situation was becoming worse under the rule of Emperor Ludwig 'the Fat', with outbreaks of plague and increased civil unrest leaving imperial authorities heavily overstretched trying to maintain order.

Unsurprisingly everyone in the patrol had been on edge since leaving the main column eight days previously. They'd set out from the garrison town of Mordheim with orders to sweep south as far as the river Stir. Two days into the patrol they'd come across the remains of a looted caravan. Karl was no stranger to the horrors of war and had thought he'd seen everything. One look at the scene had proved him wrong.

It must have been well planned. Whoever, or whatever, was responsible had waited for the wagons to enter a narrow track-way before sweeping out of the thick bushes lining either side. It must have been quick, or at least he hoped so. The bodies had been left where they fell-some felled by crossbow, others by sword. No-one had been spared, even a young boy travelling with the party had been felled, his skull split open by a blow from a heavy weapon. The wagons themselves had been ransacked. Anything of value had been seized, the rest was cast aside like so much rubbish.

The carrion birds had scattered at their approach. When the order for burial was given Karl had witnessed their gruesome work, the torn flesh and empty sockets where the birds had torn away the softer tissue in a feeding frenzy. The black flock had not dispersed until after the last victim was buried, their gaze never wavering as they searched for scraps of flesh. The memory made him shudder even now. Something about their beady stares had unnerved him, had made him feel as though they simply viewed him as another piece of carrion.

Outriders had discovered two trails leading from the area, one heading west and the other south-west. Commander Marlowe, a young man recently promoted to the post, had decided to split the patrol. He led eight men south west whilst Karl's group was ordered to pursue the second trail.

That trail had gone cold after five days, since when they had acted largely on guesswork. Finally they'd been forced to concede defeat.

"Do you think the Commander had better luck Corp?

"Possibly". Konrad stirred the remnants of his porridge. "We'll know when we catch up with him".

"Aye, though why he sent us off alone I'll never know. What are the four of us supposed to do against a party of raiders?"

"We do what we're paid for soldier. Our orders were to find those raiders and act as we saw fit. As it is we need not concern ourselves further. Come tomorrow we turn back".

Karl leant back, resting his head against the saddle. "Yes sir".

Konrad never saw the attack. The first inkling he had was a terrific blow to the his chest. The impact pitched him backwards where he sat and drove the air from his lungs, choking off his scream before it could form. He landed hard, hands clutching his chest. His left hand closed over something solid. He tried to lift his head, tried to see the object, but his strength was already fading. As his head fell back the last thing Konrad saw was the evening sky tinged with the red glow of the fading sun-as bright as the red stain forming around the bolt in his chest. Then darkness took him.

Both men stared, dumbfounded. Before either thought to move, another scream reached their ears, followed by a muffled thud.

Then the night erupted with shouts.

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