The fires were burning wrong. Camilla lay amidst the brush watching the norscan encampment. Fifty great ships were pulled up onto the beach, their prows carved like snarling daemons who seemed to snap and hiss in the wavering fire light. Over a thousand Norscan’s had headed inland within minutes of landing, straggling off in partis of fifty or a hundred led by their black armored champions. The sight of them filled her with fear. The count had gone to Krondstat on her advice, if he and worse yet Cydric were overun by the tide of northerners she would never forgive herself.

What was wrong with the fires? The color was wrong, pale whites and purples, reds to vivid for the piles of driftwood she had watched them build. It was mesmerizing and sickening in equal measure but somehow she couldn’t pull her eyes away. The Norscan’s hadn’t left the ships undefended, there were over a hundred of the burly warriors left and a pair of the black armored warriors. That pair paced back and forth without pause, ceaselessly glaring eastwards after their fellows. Perhaps they felt cheated of the slaughter they felt certain to follow. 

Camilla wanted to rush down on the encampment now. Each minute she waited only made her worry more about Cydric. Her hand unconsciously strayed to the necklace he had given her, willing him to be ok. If she struck now she would be early but there would be less chance of him being killed defending the town. She cursed the count for demanding they seperate and herself for agreeing to lead this group.

“What have we here,” ground a voice which was equal parts the squelching of mud and the purring of cats. A hand grabbed her by the tunic and hauled her into the air. Terror flooded through the courtesan like ice water and she grabbed for her weapons belt. The massive Norscan slapped her hand away like a child and yanked the weapons belt free with a jerk that bruised Camilla’s hips. The Norscan was bigger than Ivan with protruding brow ridges and a nose that had been broken many times. His eyes seemed to wide and luminous and each was nearly the size of tea cups. Arcane designs were inked onto much of his skin swirling unpleasantly as she watched them. In desperation she pulled a knife from her boot and plunged it to the hilt into the giants bicep. The giant gave a bark of harsh laughter and then the world went dark.

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