Tonight I will atone my sins and stand among the Iron Halls of my fathers. Great Grungni willing.”

He made a peculiar sign over his chest with his clenched right hand. “Come, manling, let us go.” He strode out the door.

Felix picked up his pack. At the doorway the old woman stopped him and pressed something into his hand. “Please, sir,” she said. “Take this. It is a charm to Sigmar. It will protect you. My little Gunter wears its twin.”

And much good it’s done him, Felix was about to say, but the expression on her face stopped him. It held fear, concern and perhaps hope. He was touched.

“I’ll do my best, frau.”

Outside, the sky was bright with the green witchlight of the moons. Felix opened his hand. In it was a small iron hammer on a fine-linked chain. He shrugged and hung it round his neck. Gotrek and the old man were already moving down the road. He had to run to catch up.


“What do you think these are, manling?” Gotrek said, bending close to the ground. Ahead of them, the road continued on towards Hartzroch and Bogenhafen. Felix leaned on the league marker. This was the edge of the trail. Felix hoped the innkeeper had returned home safely.

“Tracks,” he said. “Going north.”

“Very good, manling. They are coach tracks and they take the trail north to the Darkstone Ring.”

“The black coach?” Felix said.

“I hope so. What a glorious night! All my prayers are answered. A chance to atone and to get revenge on the swine who nearly ran me over.” Gotrek cackled gleefully but Felix could sense a change in him. He seemed tense, as if suspecting that his hour of destiny were arriving and he would meet it badly. He seemed unusually talkative.

“A coach? Does this coven consist of noblemen, manling? Is your Empire so very corrupt?”

Felix shook his head. “I don’t know. It may have a noble leader. The members are most likely local folk. They say the taint of Chaos runs deep in these out of the way places.”

Gotrek shook his head and for the first time ever he looked dismayed.