by ich du
'We still head west, we still find Tungask.' Jakob assured Kurt.
'But which way is west, I can't see any stars at all.' Kurt replied, looking up into the thick web of branches above their heads. Ursula walked away, kicking at sticks, muttering to herself.
'Don't stray too far, who knows what's in these woods.' Kurt called out after her. She gave him a sour glance over her shoulder and threw her pack down at the base of a tree before sitting on it.
'Why you let your woman treat you like this?' Jakob asked, looking over at Ursula. 'My people like strong women, but they still behave.'
'Leave her alone, and remember your place as well.' Kurt said angrily.
'How many arrows do you have left, Jakob?' Ursula called out quietly.
The Norscan walked over to her, unhooked his bow and pulled a shaft from the quiver strapped to his pack. Kurt followed, and saw that not far off was a small clearing. It was dark, the clouds thick enough to block out the moonlight, but he could see something moving in the gloom.
'Wolf.' Jakob whispered, notching the arrow and stalking forward.
The pair watched as he advanced in a crouch, moving from tree to tree to get closer. Kurt kept an eye on the wolf, which was just pacing to and fro as far as he could tell. Jakob had settled against the bole of a smaller pine, and raised his bow.
'Watch out!' shouted Ursula, jumping to her feet and pulling free her hunting knife before sprinting forward, throwing up clouds of dead pine needles. Kurt was taken by surprise and it was a couple of heartbeats before he reacted and ran after her. Jakob had turned round to see what the commotion was. It was then that Kurt saw the two low, lupine shapes running through the undergrowth to Jakob's left, just a dozen yards from the northman. Ursula pointed with her knife and Jakob looked up.
Kurt pulled his sword free and surged past Ursula, heading to intercept the beasts.
'Look out for the one in the clearing!' he called out, noticing that the wolf they had first seen was now stalking in towards the three of them.
Jakob loosed his arrow at one of the two wolves running at him, catching it in the shoulder. It tripped and fell, and then pulled itself to its feet. As Kurt ran towards the closest one, he realised how big the beasts were, their shoulders came up to above his waist, and there was an unnatural sheen about their fur. Kurt was in front of the beast by a few yards and turned to face it. He looked at its slavering jaws as the beast raced towards him, and took a wide-footed stance, bracing himself for the beast to leap at him. Instead, the beast veered to Kurt's right and circled him, slowing its pace.
Kurt turned to keep it in sight and it leapt forward with surprising speed, and dived at Kurt's leg, his sword swing passing over it. Its teeth scraped across the greaves of Kurt's armour and he heard a yelp, but the impact was enough to unbalance him and he fell to one knee. Springing away, the wolf shook its head and then attacked again, jaws lashing out at Kurt's face. He rolled onto his back and thrust with his sword, its tip scoring a bloody line across the creature's left shoulder and forcing it clear. Rolling to his feet, Kurt prepared to defend himself again when a massive weight crashed into his back and hurled him forwards.
Stunned, he glanced back to see the wounded wolf grappling with his legs. Suddenly Ursula was there, screaming at the top of her voice. She dived head on at the wolf, her knife sinking into its back, forcing it to let go of Kurt's leg. It writhed on the ground to snap its jaws at Ursula, but she dragged her knife free and plunged it down again. A growl snatched Kurt's attention back to the other creature. It was bleeding heavily now and slinking warily forward with its head low. As a howl echoed through the air, it looked up and then turned and ran into the darkness. Checking on Ursula, Kurt saw that she was lying on her back, breathing heavily, the corpse of the wolf lying over her legs.
'Jakob?' he called out.
'I'm here,' the Norscan replied, jogging through the shadows, bow in hand. 'The other ran away.'
'And what do you think you were doing?' Kurt snapped at Ursula. He pointed to the slender sword that hung in its scabbard from her belt. 'Why didn't you use that?'
'I...' she started, crestfallen. 'It's going to take me a while to get used to it. And I'd like you to take more time to teach me how to use it properly. I don't feel comfortable yet waving it around.'
'Alright,' Kurt said, pulling Ursula to her feet and hugging her tightly. 'We'll spend some more time with sword practice once we're settled in Tungask.'
The three of them rested for a while, sitting down under a tree and keeping a sharp lookout in case the wolves returned.
'Was it just me, or were they even more cunning than normal wolves?' Kurt broke the silence, pulling himself to his feet and putting his pack on.
'You in north now,' Jakob replied, also standing. He leant down to pull up Ursula, but she snatched her hand back and pushed herself to her feet. With a shrug, Jakob continued. 'Breath of the gods spread across the northlands, and all breathe it: men, plants, animals, birds. All more intelligent, all stronger. You not in the Empire now.'
'No, we're not.' Ursula said sombrely.
THE THREE OF them were battered and weary when they limped across the bridge to Tungask, not long before midnight. The town was made up of low log cabins, and the warm flicker of firelight shone out from narrow windows. Jakob led them through the town, past a massive pine trunk planted in the centre of the town. The space around the trading post was circled with two-storey buildings, and it was to one of these that Jakob took them. Pushing open the door, the crackling of fire and hubbub of conversation flowed out to the travellers to welcome them in.
Inside, the floor was strewn with sawdust and the furniture made up of barrels and planks of all shapes and sizes. Pipe smoke hung heavily in the air and cheery laughter greeted them. They made for the roaring fire, but few of the tavern's customers paid them much heed. Jakob went to the counter - a row of waist-high kegs topped with a rough pine plank, and spoke briefly to the man behind it. He returned to Ursula and Kurt with a grin.
'Lars is son of Hengrist, who ran this place when I first here.' he said. 'His father tell him many tales of me, he say, and we welcome to stay as long as wish.'
'Seems friendly enough.' Ursula commented, looking around. 'Can we please get something to eat?'
'We have good food for nothing tonight.' Jakob clapped Kurt on the shoulder. 'Come, we sit and rest.'
They seated themselves on a bench by a table near the fire and pulled off their muddied furs. Jakob wandered off to talk to a group of blonde-haired northmen drinking from long drinking horns on the other side of the room, saying he would get what news had reached this far removed settlement. Kurt inspected the scratches to his leg, but it was nothing serious, just some grazes at the back of his knee where his armour strapping offered little protection. Ursula had a scratch across her chin, and she asked for water to wash it clean. Taking the cloth, Kurt dabbed at her face with a smile.
'That was a very brave and very stupid thing to do.' he said, slipping the cloth back into the bowl, a mix of blood and mud rinsing out into the water.
'What was?' Ursula asked, wincing as he applied pressure to the cut once more.
'Attacking that wolf like you did.' Kurt told her.
'It would have been stupid if I had thought about it.' Ursula told him. 'There wasn't time to think, though. I just saw it coming for you and acted. To tell you the truth, I was terrified.'
'We all get scared. It's what we do that counts, not how we feel.' Kurt reassured her. 'I'm so proud of you, I can see how you survived for so long on your own now.'
'You know that we forgot my birthday?' she said. 'Not long after we crossed the border into Kislev.'
'I didn't realise, I'm sorry.' Kurt said, putting the cloth down and taking hold of her hand. 'You know, we could get our own room here, Jakob won't be around.'
'I know what you're saying, but we're not married yet.' Ursula smiled back.
'Married?' Kurt laughed bitterly. 'How can we get m
arried now? Come on, I'm not in the Osterknacht any more, we're not in the Empire. We can do what we like. Damn their laws and rules!'
Ursula snatched her hand away and looked into the fire.
'And that was the only reason?' she asked. 'Because of the Osterknacht? What about love and respect for me? Didn't that ever matter?'
'Of course.' Kurt laid a hand on her shoulder but she turned away further and he pulled it back angrily. 'You've done nothing but complain and blame me since we left Badenhof. Come on, we're free now, I love you. What is the real problem?'
Ursula looked back at him and there was a tear in her eye.
'We're in the far north, miles from where we lived, surrounded by strangers and barbarians.' she told him. 'But I would like to think that some of that life we had can still survive. You said we'd go to Stirland and start again. Why not wait until then?'
'You used to be so warm and approachable.' Kurt replied. 'Now I fear the bitter wind has frozen more than just your skin, it's frozen your heart.'
'That's a horrid thing to say!' snapped Ursula. 'You've changed, and not for the better. That Jakob has been telling you all kinds of nonsense. You really shouldn't listen to him.'
'Oh, so we're back to Jakob again.' sighed Kurt. 'There's no point in talking to you when this mood is upon you. I'm not the only one who has changed. This has affected all of us and we'd best just start living with some of the consequences of what happened.'
Ursula stood up and looked back at Kurt.
'I'll get Jakob to ask for a separate room for me.' she said slowly. 'You can warm yourself by the fire tonight.' And with that, she walked away.
CHAPTER TWO
Hounds
Kislev, Autumn 1709
'BRING THAT BEARDED coward in here!' roared Marius, hurling his goblet of wine at the knight standing by the doorway. The young soldier looked at Ruprecht, who gestured him to leave with a flick of his head.
Marius and his band were camped in the ruins of an old watchtower, some twenty miles south of the Lynsk, while the Osterknacht were in their tents outside the tumbled stones. He and Ruprecht were in the remains of the upper guardhouse, rain dripping through the splintered wooden roof, despite the hasty repairs that had been attempted earlier. Marius paced up and down, clenching and unclenching his right fist and staring at the floor. He retrieved the goblet, wiped the rim with his sleeve and then picked up the bottle lying on the floor next to the rough pallet he was using for a bed. Pouring the last few drops from the bottle, he gave a growl and hurled away the empty vessel, which shattered on the stone walls into small pieces of green glass.
'Calm down, Marius,' Ruprecht said. 'You've been drinking since nightfall, and you're tired. Get some rest and we'll think about what to do in the morning.'
'Fetch Filandantis for me, Ruprecht,' Marius said quietly. 'Please, most loyal of my men. These knights have no respect for me, I see it in their eyes.'
'They have sworn to serve you and hunt the traitor down, Marius,' Ruprecht tried to soothe his master's fears. 'Filandantis is tired, as are we all. Perhaps by morning, he will have regained his strength. He is an old man, the march and the cold exhaust him.'
'I am no longer a young man, either,' exclaimed Marius loudly, draining the last of the wine. 'Do you hear me complain? No! The justice of our hunt gives me strength. Do I cower like a whipped dog when the rains and wind come? No! The elements are not my foe, for as they hinder me, they hinder my quarry.'
'You are a great man, and driven by your quest for vengeance,' Ruprecht admitted. 'However, we are merely ordinary men, and though you are a shining example to us all, we need to rest and we need food.'
'And what would you have me do?' cried Marius. 'Tarry and delay while our enemies make their way back to the heartland of darkness in the north?'
'We should have stayed a few days at Novestok,' Ruprecht said bluntly. 'You are driving us all too hard.'
'I thought you supported me,' Marius growled, slumping on to the pallet and dropping the goblet to the floor. 'Now you argue against me.'
'I am worried for you, Marius,' Ruprecht said softly, and the witch hunter looked up at him and saw his honest, open face.
'I am sorry Ruprecht, truly I am,' Marius said finally, dropping his head. 'You are right, this need for justice is like a fever inside me. It makes my blood run hot but it consumes me as well.'
'That is not the only fever you have suffered,' Ruprecht said. 'How is the wound?'
In the fighting at Badenhof, the skaven had butchered many of the townsfolk and Marius and his men had been forced to fight their way clear and abandon the town. The witch hunter had been cut by a ratman blade and the wound had festered for several weeks until Ruprecht had forced Marius to visit a priestess of Shallya in Erengrad. Several days after the skaven had forced them to flee, a detachment of the Osterknacht had arrived. Marius had told them Badenhof was irrecoverably tainted, and invoking the ancient power of his position ordered the whole town put to the torch. Ruprecht shuddered at the memory when he recalled the mask of hatred that had been the witch hunter's face as he had poured oil down the sewers of the town and thrown a burning brand onto the fuel.
There had been a mad gleam in Marius's eye when he had personally taken an axe to the pews in the shrine of Sigmar and built a great pyre. Brother Theobald had escaped the skaven attack, but documents found in the town hall had shown that the money the cult had been taking from the skaven in exchange for secrecy and food had found its way into the priest's coffers. Ruprecht suspected that it was the priest who had put forward Ursula as the scapegoat for the conspirators' activities.
Marius had found Theobald hiding out in the loft where Ursula used to live. When the witch hunter had uncovered him, he dragged Theobald screaming into the shrine and tied him to the statue of his god, leaving the priest shrieking prayers of repentance to Sigmar as the flames engulfed the buildings. Never before had Ruprecht seen the witch hunter so harsh and so possessed by a need for violence. He had seen Marius do some cruel things, and had himself shown few qualms in torturing a man to speak his dark secrets. But over the last months, Marius's madness had grown, and no matter how hard Ruprecht tried to shield the men from it, they were growing suspicious about their leader's state of mind.
'It is sore but no longer troubles me overly,' Marius said, unconsciously rubbing at the scar on his arm. 'It is the wound in my soul that cuts deeper. The betrayal of that accursed woman! All the time playing me like a fool, in league with Leitzig and his minions. How could I have been so blind to the truth?'
'She fooled us all, Marius,' Ruprecht said, though in his heart he doubted that the great conspiracy that Marius feared was actually real. He seriously thought Ursula an unwitting pawn in the whole affair, but dared not confront Marius on the subject given the foul, almost murderous, mood he had been in since Kurt Leitzig had turned up and tried to kill him. Any mention of the former knight's name sent Marius into a raving fit or silent melancholy, and except for the first admission of his wife's death, he had offered no further justification for his hatred. Ruprecht was wise enough to know that many fears haunted a man, and perhaps the reminder of his earlier failure to kill off the Leitzig line had opened up a wound in Marius's soul that had never truly healed.
A rasping snore snapped Ruprecht from his thoughts and he saw that the witch hunter was curled up on the bier, sound asleep. With a shake of his head, Ruprecht went and sat on his own bedding by the door and leaned back against the wall. Tiredness welled up inside him, and it was not long before his head lolled forward and his snores joined the slumbering noises of his master.
THE NEXT MORNING Marius awoke to a throbbing head. Wiping at his bleary eyes he rolled off his pallet and struggled to his feet. There was a pitcher of brackish water by his bed and he poured it over his head. Ruprecht was still asleep by the door. Marius walked over to him and let the last few drips of water fall on his face. Spluttering, Ruprecht's eyes snapped open.
'Some guard you are!' l
aughed Marius. 'I thought you slept at my door to protect me from treachery from my own men!'
'More likely to bloody well stop you waking them at this ungodly hour,' Ruprecht grumbled back, looking up at the holes in the roof to see a dark sky beyond. 'Why so early?'
'I had a dream last night,' Marius said, his voice dropping. 'There were storm clouds in the sky, and a great bolt of lightning struck me. Rather than being killed, I was lifted up into the air, and the energy flowed through me.'
'Very good,' Ruprecht sighed, pulling himself to his feet with a grunt. He was used to these high moments, which had characterised Marius's personality recently as much as his black moods. It was this unpredictability that was the most worrying aspect of Marius's changed personality.
'Don't you see it as a sign, my good friend?' Marius asked, slightly downhearted by Ruprecht's reaction.
'I can't eat signs,' Ruprecht told his master. 'Now, if you said you had been given a sheep, I might be more jovial.'
'Can you not feed on faith, big man?' Marius joked, slapping Ruprecht's diminished but still considerable stomach with the back of his hand.
'I worship Ulric, remember?' replied Ruprecht, sorrowfully pulling out the waist of his trousers to demonstrate how much weight he had lost. 'He loves the winter, and he loves wolves. A poor man like me has to make do with food to feed upon.'
'We'll spend another day here and send out the hunters,' Marius declared, to the surprise of Ruprecht. Seeing his companion's expression, Marius shook his head. 'I may have been drunk, but I wasn't insensible. I remember what you said, and I thank you for saying it. Men who march on empty stomachs cannot fight and will grumble like old wives. But in return for this kindness I expect every man to drive northwards hard, once that doddering fool Filandantis tells us where we should be going.'