Gotrek looked up at him as if expecting a response.

“I understand,” Felix said.

“Do you, manling? Do you really?” The Trollslayer’s voice was as harsh as stones breaking.

Felix smiled ruefully. In that moment he saw the gap that separated man from dwarf. He would never understand their strange taboos, their obsession with oaths and order and pride. He could not see what would drive the Trollslayer to carry out his self-imposed death sentence.

“Your people are too harsh with themselves,” he said.

“Yours are too soft,” the Trollslayer replied. They fell into silence. Both were startled by a quiet, mad laugh. Felix turned, whipping up his blade into the guard position. Gotrek raised his axe.

Out of the mists something shambled. Once it had been a man, Felix decided. The outline was still there. It was as if some mad god held the creature close to a daemonic fire until flesh dripped and ran, then had left it to set in a new and abhorrent form.

“This night we will dance,” it said, in a high-pitched voice that held no hint of sanity. “Dance and touch.”

It reached out gently to Felix and stroked his arm. Felix recoiled in horror as fingers like clumps of maggots rose towards his face.

“This night at the stone we will dance and touch and rub.” It made as if to embrace him. It smiled, showing short, pointed teeth. Felix stood quietly. He felt like a spectator, distanced from the event that was happening. He pulled back and put the point of his sword against the thing’s chest.

“Come no closer,” Felix warned. The thing smiled. Its mouth seemed to grow wider, it showed more small sharp teeth. Its lips rolled back until the bottom half of the face seemed all wet glistening gum and the jaw sank lower like that of a snake. It pushed forward against the sword until beads of blood glistened on its chest. It gave a gurgling, idiotic laugh.

“Dance and touch and rub and eat,” it said, and with inhuman swiftness it writhed around the sword and leapt for Felix.

Swift as it was, the Trollslayer was swifter. In mid-leap his axe caught its neck. The head rolled into the night; a red fountain gushed.

This is not happening, thought Felix.

“What was that? A daemon?” Gotrek asked. Felix could hear the excitement in his voice.

“I think it was once a man,” Felix said. “One of the tainted ones marked by Chaos. They are abandoned at birth.”

“That one spoke your tongue.”

“Sometimes the taint does not show till they are older. Relatives think they are sick and protect them till they make their way to the woods and vanish.”

“Their kin protect such abominations?”

“It happens. We don’t talk about it. It is hard to turn your back on people you love even if they change.”

The dwarf stared at him in disbelief, then shook his head.