"Then we go out fighting," Urt said. "If we could only make it to the woods, we''d be fine."

    "Are you mad?" the were-sheep replied. "There''s a whole other army there! Uh oh, watch out!"

    He turned and fired his bow one more time, and then shifted into his were-sheep form as an undead climbed over the nearest boulder.

    Urt cast a small fireball at another zombie as it poked its head up, and Lucy cut the legs off a third.

    "Dreg help us!" Urt cried, blasting another two zombies into dust.

    "There''s a path this way," a new voice said, from behind him. "If we can break through a thin defensive perimeter."

    Urt turned in shock, he''d not realised they weren''t alone, and then gaped.

    Standing there, silhouetted against the sun, was a goddess in black leather. Well, mostly black leather. Artfully placed slits in the outfit revealed a fit, muscular torso beneath, which immediately began causing Urt some issues. Her long, jet black hair was weaved into a couple of pigtails, giving her the appearance of an innocent schoolgirl gone really, really bad.

    All in all she looked like a dream dressed up as a nightmare. Or possibly the other way around. Either way, he didn''t want to wake up.

    His angelic visitor raised one perfect eyebrow. "Are you just going to stand there drooling all day, or help me kill this lot then?" She gestured at the group of undead that had been sneaking up behind them. Even her voice was velvety. It was like being murdered with silk.

    "Urt kill," he replied, with all the debonair sophistication of a cow turd.

    "Fantastic." With a movement so smooth a cat would have been jealous, his new friend turned and threw a knife at something behind her. "No rush. When you''re ready. Though I would like to mention I''m running out of daggers." She took another one out of the nearly empty twin straps that crossed her torso, and threw it so that it embedded itself into the eye of an approaching zombie, driving her point, both figuratively and literally, home.

    "Reginald!" Urt shouted, shaking his head. "To the rear!"

    The were-sheep stopped shaking a leg he had in his teeth and looked around. With a ferocious ''baah'', he leapt past their new, highly attractive, ally and bowled over several approaching zombies.

    "Move!" Urt commanded Lucy.

    He jumped over the rocks and ploughed after his comrade, throwing small blasts of energy left and right at the undead that were surging forward, trying to use his power as efficiently as possible. Lucy lurched after him, with their new friend following closely behind, wielding her last dagger and a short sword with horrifying efficiency.

    There followed several minutes of desperate, bloody madness as his small group ploughed their way through the small throng that sought to block their escape. Urt used more magic in those few minutes than he''d used in his entire life before. Reginald meanwhile, did the were community proud, ramming zombies out of the way with sharp horns and trampling them underfoot with razor sharp hooves.

    Lucy stoicly hacked away with her sword when she had chance, but mostly followed in the wake of the gore strewn devastation that the leather clad warrior left in her wake.

    "We''re not going to make it," Horace cried from his bag. "There are hundreds coming up behind us."

    Urt glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, a whole zombie army was shambling along in their wake. Such were the perils of pissing off a village of necromancers. "Break through, get to the forest," he screamed, exploding the head of a skeleton wielding a rusty sword with a wave of his hand.

    They redoubled their effort, and, after a few desperate moments, finally broke through into clear ground. Ahead of them rose the forest.

    "But the defence force!" Horace wailed.

    "Exactly," Urt replied, grimly. He raised both hands and uttered Words of Power.

    Several seconds passed, and then zombies began to stream from the woods.

    Reginald returned to human form. His shirt had been torn off, but the special trousers that Urt had paid so much for in Groan were still, thankfully, present. "We''re undone!" he shouted, looking with desperate terror at the approaching dead.

    "No we''re not," said Urt.

    The zombies ahead of them swarmed forward, an unstoppable force... and rushed past to engage the other undead who were following them.

    "What the?" Reginald asked, still panting hard.

    "I never gave up control of them when we came through," Urt said, grinning like a madman.

    "But you sent them back!"

    "Yes, I ordered them to go back to what they were doing before. Did you hear me give up control?"

    "Oh! So cunning boss!" said Horace.

    Urt glanced at the woman and grinned. "You coming?" he asked.

    She was.

    "Over there," Samantha said, pointing out a small cottage near the treeline.

    "What if someone''s home?" asked Reginald.

    "I think we can handle one or two necromancers between us," Urt said.

    The small group had made their way as hastily as they could through the stretch of forest, leaving the warring undead armies behind to fight it out. However, Urt knew they wouldn''t make it out on foot, and that''s when his new friend, who''d quickly introduced herself as Samantha, said she knew where to get some.

    The place turned out to be a kind of guard post. A stone cottage with a small corral round the back, which the fighter had seen on her way in. She had stashed her horse not far away, she added. Urt thought of his own, rather mangy mount, that he''d been forced to leave behind, and determined that it was only fair to take recompense in kind.

    Samantha bade them wait in the treeline, whilst she moved incredibly quickly and stealthily towards the building, Urt looking on in admiration. Peeking in through the window, she made a gesture that he interpreted as ''wait'', and then disappeared around the back of the structure.

    A few minutes later the front door opened, and she waved at them.

    "Come on," she hissed.

    They did so, rushing over to the hut and entering through the door.

    Making the decent sized dining table messy were the blood spattered bodies of the two necromancers slumped over it. One had landed face first in some kind of soup. Samantha was busy pulling a knife out of his back.

    "There are two horses round the back," she said, wiping the blade on the dead man''s robe. "You saddle them up, I''ll get mine, and we''ll get out of here."

    "Sounds like a plan," said Urt, nodding. He watched her slip out of the door, and then turned to Reginald. "You''d better find a shirt," he said. "Maybe see if there''s anything else useful here too. I''ll go and make a start on the horses."

    "Aye boss," the were-sheep said, heading over to the bunk area.

    "Come on Lucy," Urt said, and they went about securing their transport.