Hendrick stepped from the shadows of the forest eaves and scowled as the rain stung his bare scalp. The others emerged behind him: Romilla, their priest; Eleanora carrying her engineer’s tools; Borik with his cannon and Aelyn pacing whisp-light with bow in hand. At the rear, leaning heavily on his gnarled staff and clad in the black robes of a death wizard, came the elderly figure of Bartiman Kotrin.

‘Hood up, chief,’ said Olt, lurking beneath his heavy hide cloak. ‘Firemountains make the rain here bad. The imps in it’ll burn you if you give them the chance.’ Olt said something else in a dialect Hendrick didn’t understand, but he caught the tone of a curse all the same. The tribesman was not happy.

Rightly so, Hendrick thought. None of them was happy. Not with his brother gone. Not with him in charge.

‘Sigmar curse whatever deviltry was at work in those woods,’ said Romilla from behind him. ‘I can only assume the local priests failed to properly reconsecrate the ground, for surely the malice of the Dark Gods itself haunts the damned place.’

‘No malice,’ said Aelyn. ‘Why should the realms be any more accepting of our yoke than they are of our enemies’?’

‘Well, something in there hated us,’ retorted Romilla. ‘That was not an easy march.’

‘The bite on my foot still hurts,’ said Eleanora. ‘It was a spider that bit me, I think. I saw it and I think it must have been at least the size of my fist. It was horrible, but at least it scuttled off when I swatted at it. I’m sure I could make something that would repel those sorts of nasty biting creatures, maybe a spray or something that makes a sound they don’t like, but I’d need a proper workshop and some time. Hendrick, do you think there’ll be time for me to access proper workshop facilities in Draconium?’

‘Enough. All of you,’ said Hendrick. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. ‘Hoods up and skin covered wherever possible. Stow your weapons, I don’t want to march up to the gates looking like a gang of killers. No matter what we actually are,’ he added to forestall any arch comments.

They did as he instructed.

‘Hendrick, I’ll only need a couple of days and–’

Romilla laid a hand on Eleanora’s arm, shook her head at the engineer with a gentle smile. Eleanora frowned, made a quick counting motion on the fingers of each hand, right then left, then pulled up the hood of her cloak and hunched her shoulders miserably against the rain.

‘Aelyn, what do you make of it?’ asked Hendrick quietly as the waywatcher came to stand alongside him.

‘Loaded barges idling outside a closed portcullis,’ she replied. ‘No foot traffic on the southward road. Lots of guards. Trouble.’