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S ADDLED ON R URO , Esme raced with Abresh along a ridgeline. Crikit sped alongside the ürsyn with a blur of sharp legs. Behind them, a storm gave chase. A cannon boomed, sounding like thunder, heralding the battle to come.

She twisted back and shaded her eyes.

Out of the glare, riding high, a swarm of bronze hornets swept toward them, about to overtake them. The ta’wyn filled the sky to the north, too innumerable to count. Sunlight glinted off their metal, turning each into a fiery spark.

Another blast drew her eyes to the east, to the black sea. Above that burning expanse of glass, the Fyredragon challenged the horde, successfully drawing off a majority of the enemy. The ship’s huge forges blazed, sending the craft higher. The crew was clearly striving to climb above the enemy, to perhaps use those flames as weapons.

Another cannon fired into the throng, but it seemed to do no damage.

Abresh hissed in warning. Esme turned her attention forward and grabbed tight to the saddle. She caught hold as Ruro leaped off the ridge. The beast flew, struck the lower slope, skidding on its hind end, then bounded up again.

Esme had never imagined the ürsyns possessed such speed.

Ruro raced up the next dune.

Once on top, Esme spotted scores of other riders, all riding double. The pairs hurried their mounts in a dizzying, ever-widening pattern, spreading away from the flags that marked the village of Tosgon.

She understood.

They were scattering outward—not only to draw the ta’wyn by the motion of their wild rides, but to enlarge the target area, to spread the fall of deadly bronze over a wider stretch, to keep the enemy from concentrating solely on the village.

With her cheek to Abresh’s back, Esme stared toward those flapping flags, where Tosgon had gained new guardians.

Two massive molagi stood posted by the entrance, looking like a pair of black dunes, only with razored claws and armored carapaces. Four more giants roamed a perimeter around Tosgon, ready to shift where they were most needed.

For a breath, Esme held out hope.

Then bronze spears fell out of the sky all around. They crashed throughout the desert. One struck halfway down the next dune. Sand blasted high from the impact. Through the dust, a bronze shape burst forth, moving incredibly fast. It barely resembled a person, just the scarcest approximation, a sculpture still raw and molten from a forge.

The ta’wyn ignored them and headed for the village flags.

Abresh growled a command to her mount. Ruro bounded toward the ta’wyn. As they closed upon the enemy, Abresh lowered her spear, like a knight’s lance. This threat drew the enemy’s attention.

The ta’wyn slid across the sand, trenching deeply.

Abresh shouted to Esme, “Haryn!”

Esme knew that word, if not its intent. Still, she responded to the urgency in Abresh’s voice and snatched the horn at her knee. She yanked it to her lips and blew with all her strength, alerting all around her of the danger.

But that was not its purpose.

The blaring note had a strange effect. The ta’wyn recoiled from it, reminding Esme of Nyx’s reaction to the same noise. Whatever vibration blasted out of the horn, it seemed to affect these bastards as well.

Abresh rode down upon the huddled ta’wyn. Her spear aimed for its chest. When it struck, Esme expected the weapon to shatter and girded herself for the impact. Instead, the shaft of sharpened bone pierced through the bronze as if it were molten.

Ruro sped past the impaled figure, then circled back, slipping sideways. Stunned and caught by the sudden turn, Esme got thrown from the saddle. She hit the sand hard and rolled down the dune.

The ürsyn bounded away, aiming again for the ta’wyn.

Esme spun, searching for the horn. It was nowhere in sight, but Crikit raced up to her. Esme rolled on her side. Without unhooking the horn from the molag’s harness, she got her lips in place and blew hard.

At the crest of the dune, Abresh leaped off the saddle with glass daggers in both hands. She struck the immobilized ta’wyn and ripped savagely at it with her daggers.

Unfortunately, due to her bruised lungs, Esme lost her breath too soon.

As the blaring note died, Abresh tried to pull a dagger free, but the bronze had hardened around it. It seemed the vibration of the horn’s blast had a deleterious effect not only on the senses of the ta’wyn, but also on the substance of its bronze, momentarily weakening the already pliable metal.

Esme sucked for another breath, but it was too late.

The now-freed ta’wyn snatched Abresh by the arm, breaking it like a twig.

No…

Then from the far side of the dune, Ruro bounded into view and crashed into the ta’wyn, sending it flying high. Abresh got knocked aside.

On her knees, Esme blew loudly again, long enough for Abresh to regain her saddle, even with one arm. The pair raced back to her, slowing briefly for Esme to throw herself over the saddle.

As they took off again, she glanced back.

The ta’wyn, speared and daggered, still crawled up from the sand and slogged toward the flags of Tosgon. Esme quailed at the strength of these beings.

How can we hope to hold them off?

The same held true for another group.

A cannonade of blasts drew her attention east, to where the Fyredragon struggled amidst a swarm of fiery bronze. One section of its balloon fluttered amidst flames.

Esme cast her gaze farther east, sending out a plea.

We need help.