Camilla dreamed. It seemed there were few nights of late when she did not. In her mind she was walking the streets of some ancient city under a hot Tilean sun. She wasn't sure why but she knew the city didn't have long to live. Why this would be should could not say for its people were happy, calm and at peace. She wandered for a time and perceived she was moving in a spiral towards the center of the city where a vast statue stood. As she neared though she felt a hand fall on her shoulder and was afraid to turn to see who it might be. Of its own volition and with the terrible logic of dreams her head began to turn. And then the scream in the camp jolted her awake as effectively as if she had been doused in water.

Camilla tried to jump to her feet but knocked her head on top of the wagon she had been sleeping under. Cursing in Tilean she crawled forward. Olden was there, awake but cowering in indecision. She didn't blame him for that, the screams that rent the night were enough to freeze anyone's blood. She could hear Cydric shouting orders and her one impulse was to go to him at once. Hard thumping sounds rattled the wagon and a man dropped into view eyes wide with pain and terror an ugly black fletched arrow in his chest. The clash of steel on steel sounded shockingly loud nearby and she heard men grunting and struggling in the darkness. The fallen soldier was still screaming when a black rune covered blade descended into his chest and twisted viciously, silencing him forever. Camilla couldn't see the wielder but every instinct screamed at her to stay down. Metal clad legs took a few steps forward and she was about to let out a sigh of relief when they paused. There was an odd snuffling sound, like a hound except many sizes to large and the legs turned and began to lean down. A baroque metal helmet appeared beneath the edge of the wagon, it was fashioned out of some black metal and ornate rune work was intricately carved into it. The man's, if man was the right term, eyes glowed with a pinkish red fire and he, it?, had an odd smell about it. It was something like perfume that had sat to long in the vat, or had used too much ambergris.

[b]"Woman,"[/b] the voice purred somehow sensual and threatening at the same time. He reached an armored hand down and extended it towards Camilla fingers spread.
 
[b]"Such wonders we have to show you..."[/b] Camilla shot the strange warrior in the hand with her pistol, the booming discharge impossibley loud in the space beneath the wagon. The figure reeled back, howling and roaring in pain as it clutched the stump of its ruined hand, metal fingers falling to the ground, their ends smoking as if lit from inside by some baleful fire. Camilla turned and scrambled away, crawling as fast as her hands and knees would carry her. Olden apparently had the same notion and was already out the other end of wagon. Behind her there came the crash of splintering would and a roar of rage as the warrior smashed the front of the wagon with his sword. Camilla had a heart stopping instant to imagine the powder on the wagon blowing her into an unrecognizable mist and then she was out from under the wagon, its gunpowder having declined to detonate for the moment.

The clearing in which they camped was in Chaos. She could hear men shouting but only in a confusing jumble. Tendrils of mist still snaked through the darkness and dying men lay around her. Here and there a beast man lay, spitted by sword or scythed down by bullets. One of the larger ones was tearing at its own entrails in a frenzy of berserk hunger. Camilla could have done without that image. Behind her she heard the Chaos warrior closing and took off after Olden, hoping the scholar knew where he was going. A beastman with the face of a fanged goat loomed out of the mist, stone axe raised and she whipped her rapier free and thrust into the things stomach twisting the blade and yanking it free in a smooth motion. Then it was lost in the mist and she and Olden emerged into a haze of powder smoke.

Ahead of them soldiers formed, halberds thrust out in a tight defensive ring, the men kneeling to allow the handgunners to fire over them. Camilla grabbed Olden and yanked him to the ground with a squawk of protest a moment before a rolling volley rang out and led shot hissed overhead like hail. The impacts could be heard even over the screams they raised. Camilla hauled Olden to his feet and ran at the spearmen, hoping that they would recognize her in time not to impale her on the glittering points of their weapons. A few strides before she reached the line something seized her by the back of her tunic an jerked her into the air. She screamed in terror and hate, thrashing uselessly with her rapier.

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