Sizilen looked up at the World Tree in wonder. Annika had done it. She and a dozen other Augurs had given their lives to breach the barrier between Ayndir and Outworld, and the proof of it was just in front of her. She’d never seen anything like it, and she was unlikely to do so again.

She reached out to touch the World Tree’s trunk. It was warm. Warmer than a tree had any right to be, but this wasn’t like other trees. This was a tree made from a seed that had aged several thousand years in darkness before it was recovered. A tree that went through the process of Twinning, taking even more lives as it grew rapidly before the very eyes of the tens of thousands of soldiers and camp followers settled in the fields below, stretching back to the river.

The warmth of the tree wasn’t that odd, she supposed. What was it that her father had said? 

Warmth radiates from quick things. 

She pictured him rubbing his hands together rapidly during a particularly cold winter. She wondered if the warmth of the tree was a result of the rapid growth or if it was to be remain warm for as long as it stood, possibly an artifact of the Elder Law or simply due to its nature.

Alongside her, dozens of engineers and officers walked through the great shimmering face of the tree. Once word had come back through the Shimmer, Borou was quick to call Third Order to ingress into Outworld, and Sizilen’s duty now lay on the other side.

She was hesitant to cross over. She wasn’t certain why. They’d been assured it was safe, that the Outworlders put up no fight. Perhaps it was the cost of the passage that held her back. Or perhaps it was something else.

Nonetheless, she and several other scribes and artists had been appointed to the First Order. They were to record the sights on the other side to be delivered to the King. The fine, expensive parchments in her satchel were merely tools in which to fulfill Othniel Caradoc’s wishes. The King would not cross yet-- not until their complete victory was announced. Until then, he would sit upon his throne in Tyrant’s Fall and see to his Kingly duties.

Only once they had convinced the forces of Outworld to bend the knee to him would he dare cross.

“It’s a sight for the ages, isn’t it, lass?”

Sizilen glanced over at General Borou, shielding her eyes from the sun. Since Annika had passed on to be embraced by Taydir, the man had insisted she stay by his side. It was suffocating, but at least she understood why. Annika’s actions had earned Sizilen the privileges due to her sister, and Borou was ensuring those privileges were recognized.

When her job was complete, Sizilen would be given the right to become a Matriarch of her own Clan. Her daughters would carry her name forward until her line eventually ended. The thought bothered Sizilen deeply. What name would she choose? She couldn’t use Freia. Freia was a name given to orphans and bastards born under the banner of Clan Ciel in the mountain city that bore the same name.

Perhaps she would choose Annika’s name?

Or perhaps, she thought with a shudder, she would choose the name of her future husband. No doubt there were already sons among the Noble Clans that sought to use her name to serve their own ambition. If Sizilen had learned anything about the Noble Clans, it was that they each had ambitions that rivaled that of any King from the line of Caradoc.

She dropped her hand from the surface of the World Tree and turned to Borou. “I’m ready,” she said.

“Aye,” Borou replied. “Then shall we?”

Sizilen nodded and joined the long line of men marching into the World Tree. The Shimmer towered above her as she walked into the great depression in its base. She and Borou paused just as they reached the Shimmer.

Borou reached out and touched it. It formed around his outstretched hand like water, and he pulled it back.

“Does it feel like anything?” she asked.

“A tingle,” he replied with a shrug. “Nothing more.” He turned to her. “Shall we?”

With a sigh, Sizilen looked straight ahead. The Shimmer itself was opaque, betraying nothing of what they might find on the other side. It was like a standing pool of mercury, rippling out as a stone might make the water ripple as the men passed through.

She held her breath and closed her eyes, then stepped in.

The passage itself was unremarkable. Sizilen wasn’t sure what she expected. Perhaps some vision, some sensation of traveling. But beyond a slight tingle as the Shimmer enveloped her, it was no different than passing through a doorway.

Once she had confirmed that her feet were still firmly bound to the ground, she opened her eyes.

The first thing she did was make note of where the sun was in the sky-- it seemed to be brighter, somehow. The heat on her skin felt more substantial. Gone was the smell of the plains on the other side, replaced instead by stenches familiar, yet foreign. The World Tree had grown in the center of a wide road unlike any she had seen before. It was smooth, devoid of the carriage ruts she was used to on well-traveled roads in Embrayya. In the center a bright yellow line was painted. All around her were the strange carriage-like constructs she had seen earlier that morning as she and Annika stared into the void.

Men were working all around her, setting up tents and chopping down trees along the side of the road. Wyverns flew overhead scouting the vicinity while men were throwing bodies onto a pile. She felt queasy seeing that. Corpses were never easy to lay eyes upon.

Large buildings of strange construction lined the sides of the road, structures of glass and metal. She could see several groups of prisoners-- tributes for Caradoc, no doubt. It was customary to take prisoners for the King to put to work. She saw that the Outworlders did not bear the look of demons as she had expected. There were no goblins or trolls among their number that she could see. The Outworlders were oddly human in appearance.

But one of the biggest surprises was not the oddly human-appearing Outworlders, nor the strange roads and carriages. It wasn’t the buildings or colored paints the likes of which she had never seen.

It was the great bridge that hung in the distance. It had to have been a bridge. It had high towers that reached into the sky at two points on its span, and was visible even behind the buildings.

She found she wanted to draw it. The scale of its construction was… no, she couldn’t even fathom how such a bridge could reach so high. She thought she could make out shapes moving rapidly across it at speeds that rivaled unladen wyverns. It was impossible, of course. Nothing groundborn could reach speeds such as those.

“Not much to look at,” Borou said under his breath. He looked to Sizilen. “I expected them to be… bigger. To put up more of a fight, perhaps.”

“General Borou!” called a man nearby. He walked up to the pair of them.

“Rider,” Borou greeted. “Dree, is it? Where’s your mount?”

“Blasted Outworlder killed him,” he said, pointing off toward a building. Sizilen could make out the form of a wolf leaned up against some smaller thing of metal construction. She could see it was dead.  “He was given swift vengeance.”

“We will find you another,” Borou said. “What of the other Riders?”

“They hold the perimeter yonder with the rest of the First Order,” he explained. “I stayed back to assist the Empyrean Riders.”

“General Borou,” another voice called. Sizilen looked over to see a few familiar faces. Rost and Auberon approached with a third man she didn’t recognize save for the familiar uniform of an Empyrean Riders. Auberon looked at her. “Sizilen,” he greeted, then paused. “Forgive me. Lady Sizilen.”

“Auberon. Rost,” she said. Rost smiled at her, causing her to look away. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed. Rost was a nice enough Rider, but she’d known his type in the past and she wasn’t interested. Besides, with her station now, knowing Rost any further could land him in trouble he wouldn’t be able to climb out of so easily.

She could tell Rost was willing to take the risk. A few days prior Sizilen might even have let him risk it. But now… now it was a different story. Instead, her gaze fell upon the five Outworlders kneeling on the ground nearby. She wandered toward them.

---- To Be Continued In The Constables II ----