The strange alien sun hung low enough in the sky to cast long shadows on the ground around Auberon and beyond. He still didn’t know what to make of Outworld. It hadn’t been as he expected. As he and the rest of Raptor company scouted the area, challenging the strange line of wheeled contraptions, he expected more in the way of fighting back. What sort of people would just allow their own to be slaughtered?

Outworlders, it seemed. The two Outlander guards from earlier that day were the only ones who dared challenge Embrayya, and they met their intended end as a result. Since then, besides some fallow, if irritating noisemaking, none had come near them.

Just as well. General Borou was focused on bringing the main force through the World Tree. Still, Auberon found something unsettling about the strange weapons and machinery the Outlanders used. Merely two of their hollow metal tube weapons had killed several Wolf Riders and their mounts, and had filled his comrades with holes packed with blunted metals.

What could do that?

Moreover, what could be the force that propelled their strange wagons. Rost had taken a particular interest in them after their scouting run. He was convinced it had something to do with the construction of solid metal hidden inside them, but still couldn’t make sense of how it worked.

And inside their buildings, lights brighter than any flame he’d ever seen shone and flickered from the ceilings. One of the men in the Supply Regiment discovered an object of some construction singing. Auberon had overheard it in the commotion. It had the voice of a woman who sang with musical accompaniment, completely unlike anything Auberon had heard before. He briefly found himself admiring it before he was reminded that it was an Outworlder device.

He looked over to the building General Borou had annexed to serve as their command headquarters. They’d discovered quite quickly and excitedly that the building was a brewery of sorts, though he had never seen a brewery quite like that. Some of the men started to crack open the tops of the brown bottles and drink them before General Borou threatened to whip any man found drunk. There would be time for enjoying the spoils later.

Auberon managed to find a few spoils of his own. The corpses had been stripped of anything deemed valuable, right down to their clothing. They had strange, unique fabrics like nothing seen before and might fetch good coin with a tailor. Some had handbags, filled with all sorts of little knick knacks.

And many more still had small rectangular platforms which lit up at the touch with strange Outworlder writing. Occasionally one would erupt into a litany of tones and music, and short, high pitched noises. Some of the men were frightened of them, considering them to be cursed by the Elder Law. Auberon found it interesting. He’d found one in which an immaculate painting of a beach appeared under what was most definitely Outworlder writing. The beach was beautiful to him somehow, so he kept it.

So, too, did he keep one of the leather folds almost every Outworlder seemed to carry, which held all sorts of paper and strange rectangular objects. The one he kept had an equally immaculate painting of a young woman inside. He couldn’t identify the material the thin objects were made of, but he assumed someone might when he returned to Embrayya. He might get some coins for it, too.

None of it was what he was expecting. How could a people capable of such engineering not put up a better fight? Had they already bested the greatest heroes of Outworld? In this seemingly vast city with its tall buildings and strange ships and vehicles and lights?

He watched as another company made its way through the World Tree. They would have to expand soon to accommodate, and that meant pushing back the strange line the Outworlders had formed.

But that could be left to the Wolf Riders. Raptor Company’s duties for the day were over. In the morning Borou had informed them they were going to expand and take the island, and Raptor Company would again be needed.

Tonight, they were on groundwatch. He regarded Rost as he polished his daggers next to the fire.

“I expected more demons,” Auberon said, idly. “All we’ve seen are humans and strange-looking dogs.”

“You’d prefer to be facing down a Dai’ani?”

Auberon shuddered at the thought. Of all the demon races, he found the Dai’ani the most unsettling. With their jet-black skin, long and spindly limbs, sharp teeth and love of tight spaces. Nothing about them was easy to handle. He’d rather single-handedly face down an entire Goblin tribe, or a small clan of Ogres and half-men. At least he could see them coming. Dai’ani were opportunistic killers, hiding in wells or in the branches of trees, then leaping out and taking their prey into their last embrace.

“Don’t worry, Dex,” Rustam said from nearby. “I’ve got first watch, I’ll keep you safe from the Dai’ani Embrace.”

“The only embrace Dex will die in is the Empyrean Embrace,” Rost added.

Auberon smirked. The Empyrean Embrace was considered the most noble death an Empyrean Rider could achieve. It was said that their souls would be caught before entering Taydir’s Well to be reborn. Instead, Taydir would scoop them up in his cup, to be reborn whole into their next life.

“The only embrace I’ll die in is with your sister, Rustam,” Auberon jabbed.

Rost spit out a laugh. “I reckon they got rid of the radge beasts long ago,” he explained. “They probably turned on them, killed ‘em all off. Now none left but the Outworlders.”

Auberon thought it possible. And it would explain why they were so weak. After years and years without an enemy to fight, the Outworlders grew weak, making it easy for them to annex whatever Outworld had to offer.

“What’s that sound?” Rustam asked, breaking the silence.

Auberon looked to him. His head was cocked to one side, listening. Over the din of chattering men around them, he could hear what sounded to be a rhythmic, constant thumping sound. It was growing slowly louder. It sounded like it was coming from the east, but--

Suddenly he saw it. A dark shape, looming just past the great bridge in the eastern sky. He squinted in the fading evening light. It was like nothing he’d ever seen. Like a giant insect on the horizon, coming toward them.

As it drew nearer still, he felt the blood drain from his face. “Demons,” he uttered.

Several others in the camp took notice of the great flying insect, eliciting some excited shouts. Suddenly he heard a noise coming from the north-- a blunt thud, followed by others in quick succession.

Then, a low whistle that grew louder by the moment.

“What--” was all Rustam managed to say before he was struck in the shoulder by something with enough force to drive him to the ground in an instant. Auberon didn’t have time to react before white smoke filled his vision, billowing out around them.

And then the entire camp erupted into chaos.

He could hear several other impacts as men everywhere started to yell and scatter. He could hear swords withdrawn from sheaths and cries of confusion. They were under attack.

Auberon found his way to Rustam-- his shoulder was folded into his chest at an angle he had never assumed was possible. His chest cavity had been caved in. Whatever had hit him killed him instantly.

“Where are the bastards?” Rost exclaimed. “Where are they coming from?”

Auberon stood up and looked to Rost. “We have to ride, Rost!”

As soon as he had said it, he could hear the First King’s horn blow. It was the call to arms. He sprinted past Rost, grabbing him by the arm on the way. They needed to get to their mounts. He needed Vetzsche.

They ran out of the smoke into where Raptor Company’s mounts were being kept. The Wyvern’s minder wore a look of utter incredulity on his face, staring back toward the smoke. Auberon paid him no mind.

“What about Rustam?” Rost asked.

“Dead!” Auberon exclaimed. He made his way to Vetzsche and quickly placed a hand on his snout, surprising him. Vetzsche sniffed him briefly, then nuzzled into his side.

“Come, boy. We have to fly,” Auberon said, wasting no time in attaching his saddle. He heard a few blunt thuds from the north again, then looked to the sky as the low whistle began again.

“Get down!” He shouted to Rost, and brought Vetzsche’s head down with him. One struck down just outside the corral, missing them. Unfortunately, it was still close enough to send the wyverns into a panic. Several attempted to take flight before their riders were ready, other riders were thrown about. Vetzsche reared back in shock.

“Easy boy,” he said, calming the animal. He continued to secure his saddle and eventually climbed into it, attaching a link around his ankle and pulling it tight. He looked back to Rost, who was just climbing into his saddle.

Auberon pointed to the north. “We stop whatever’s causing this smoke!” he said. Rost nodded, then took flight with his mount. Auberon followed quickly behind.

From above, he could see the entire encampment covered in a thick layer of the strange white smoke. He could see the heads of soldiers running around without any sort of order. Below, he saw a couple of Wolf Riders erupt out of the smoke headed toward the north. Auberon flew low next to them. One of them was Dree, who looked back up to Auberon and pointed to the north. Auberon gave him a nod, then drew Vetzsche skyward. He looked to the line the Outworlders had set up. The lights continued to spin in their strange vehicles, but the Outworlders who had been gathered there before were-- they were gone.

He went to catch up with Rost as they attempted to find the source of the white smoke. The two of them banked widely, scanning the rooftops and ground for any sign of where they had come from.

Rost looked back to Auberon and pointed forward. There, in the distance, a thin line of smoke rose off of a building top. That had to be it. Auberon signalled a maneuver to Rost. They needed to gain altitude and speed. One of the Outworlder’s strange smoke weapons could kill a man outright. Another might seriously injure a Wyvern. They needed to see what they were fighting against.

Rost took the lead, banking toward the river on the northwest edge of the island. Auberon followed closely behind him. He looked back toward Auberon during the bank, but his eyes went suddenly wide, and he pointed past him.

Auberon looked to the east.

In the confusion, he’d forgotten about the giant insect, and now they had multiplied. There were at least seven, and they were flying together as a regiment. There were other Empyrean Riders in the sky, swarming toward the beasts, but it seemed to mean little to the demons. They did not stray from their path through the sky toward them. They were fixed on the two of them.

And then one of them spat something. Auberon’s blood went cold as it skipped through the air at speeds unheard of, driven by a pillar of flame and went right past him toward Rost.

Rost was looking at Auberon when he and his mount exploded into a ball of heat and light. Vetzsche jolted suddenly to the side, screeching in fear and causing Auberon to lose his grip. He grasped onto the side of the saddle, fighting the forces of gravity as Vetzsche panicked, fluttering around without direction. He saw the remains of Rost and his mount fall to the ground.

Finally, he worked his way back into the saddle and managed to get Vetzsche flying straight. He was over the river now, and it appeared the beasts had turned their attention to other Riders. He went to turn, then scanned the ground. He saw no less than eight Direwolves laying down on the street, unmoving. At the camp, the World Tree presided over an ocean of smoke. He could see the flicker of lights within it, signs of battle and chaos. He watched as the men, the pride of Embrayya, frantically ran toward the portal with their tails between their legs.

It was over.

The Outworlders had bested them in the span of minutes.

He needed to go back. He wouldn’t survive here, but if he could get back to Embrayya and warn them, then maybe they could destroy the World Tree before--

Before the Outworlders marched through the World Tree and brought their demons with them. 

Auberon was no coward, but he knew living to fight again later was preferable to death. He needed to escape back to Embrayya. He directed Vetzsche to fly low, and follow the river back toward the World Tree. They would have to fly through. It was risky, but Vetzsche had maneuvered through tighter spots.

One of the giant insects suddenly broke off from the main group, bearing down on the two of them. Auberon spurred Vetzsche into action, swooping even lower down the river.

The demon insect suddenly appeared behind them. Auberon looked at it. It looked back at them.

And then it spat at them.

The last thing Auberon remembered was sailing through the air as Vetzsche fell away from under him. He would be granted the Empyrean Embrace after all.