I yell out—but my voice is silent. All sound is gone, all light, all touch and taste and smell. It's the same feeling my echo-eyes gave me when things were too quiet: the feeling that there exists nothing but darkness.

And since most of Nightcutter's illumination is from others' light, in this lightlessness it is weakened. Only a fraction of its power remains.

But that is enough. It is a well-made weapon, a brilliant work. Even with its power diminished, its strength remains undeniable. I slash, aiming at the wall, and the darkness diminishes enough that the power of my dwarves' maces can flow into the haft and be thrust out again, concentrated a hundredfold through the blade. I slash again, and the darkness evaporates. My senses return. I can hear the gap in the wall, and I stab through it.

The tide of silence vanishes into the turns of the labyrinth.

"Is everyone all right?" I shout. "Stand up if you can!"

The darkness had us in its grasp only for a few moments. No great harm has been done. Those who fell down from shock pick themselves up. Alae stands too, gasping.

"Get her some beer," I order. "Or whiskey. Warm yourself up, human!"

Someone gives her something to sip, and she does so gladly.

"I'm sorry," she croaks. "I couldn't quite get the spell off."

"Stay at the back of the formation. You'll be safer away from Nightcutter. Ithis and Hayhek—guard her."

They voice affirmation. I gaze through the break in the wall.

"Follow me," I say. "We'll have to go in single file—I remember that some of the passages are quite thin. If you're attacked, shout immediately."

I step over the rubble and into the corridor beyond. Just like I remember from last time, the walls are smooth and unmarked. I turn left out of instinct and walk on. We come to another turn, and I take the right. We go down some steep stairs, and up some other ones. They are not designed for dwarven legs, and exhaust us.

For a while, I think we're going in circles, but then we come to a three-way junction. I go straight on through. We're making some progress, but where to? Where are we going? Where am I leading everyone?

This is the unavoidable flaw in the Runeking's plan—there's no map of this place, and no way to guarantee we'll reach the sorcerer at the same time Nthazes does. The Runeking seems to trust I'll be able to find my way with cavern instinct, but I'm unsure of myself. This is not a natural cavern, after all, but a maze purpose-built to confuse and disorientate.

We can't just smash through, either. We've already drawn enough attention as it is.

I slow down, concentrating hard as I walk. There is a gentle rushing of wind in my runic ears, and from its texture I can guess at where the turns are, and make kind of a sense of the place, but still, I can find no certain path. It really does look as if I'm going to have to rely on luck.

And then comes a bad omen. Down a side-path, I notice a dwarf lying still, his faded mace lying beside him. Nearby lie more. Their armor is titanium, and they have broad runic ears attached to their helmets.

I kneel down beside one that I recognize very clearly.

"Belthur," I whisper. "So this is where that path led."

The leader of those who rebelled against Runethane Yurok died here. He made the wrong decision, and I the right one—to follow the twins. For all their faults, they were clever.

And if they could work out the way, why not I? I hold up my hand for a halt and concentrate hard. I go through all the turns we've made, the steps we've moved up and down. I imagine the corridors to be like thin wires, crossing and bending to form an immense and vastly complex rune.

We're nearly here, I work out. If we keep trying to go left, we should find the final chamber.

"Follow," I say. "We're close now—"

A silence rushes at us. I draw Nightcutter back, then stab with all my might. The dark power falters. I slash. It comes apart like mist in sunlight.

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"Back here, too!" Hayhek shouts from the rear. "We've got it though!"

There is shouting, then silence, then a sound like a river, and finally yells of awe and triumph.

"Got it!" yells Hayhek. "The witch has burned it away!"

Cheers shake the corridor.

"Quiet down!" I warn. "We've drawn more attention with this. First a strange weapon, now a strange power. The sorcerer will have taken notice." Then I add, "Well done, though, daughter of Jaemes."

We continue onward. I make a left turn at the next junction, and then come to another three-way one. I go right—it feels like the correct thing to do.

Another silent onrush of power comes at us. Nightcutter slashes it apart. I smile grimly. We must be on the right path, for the sorcerer to be attacking us again so quickly. It senses danger. It does not want these strange powers near it.

A few more turns, and then I hold up my hand for another halt. I swallow. I remember this place well. Unlike the other passages, it is wide, and richly decorated with carving of monstrous sorcerers. Some hold staves, and the more powerful ones spheres. They are reshaping the world around them with water, air, fire and other forces. There's no background behind these figures, no jungle nor caverns, just the rippling of magic.

I touch the far wall. It's cold. Past it: the darkness. And I detect no disruption. Nthazes must not be here yet.

I don't dare to imagine that he might already have come, and have been defeated. Surely that's not possible. He wouldn't fall so easily, would he?

"Around we go," I order. "Two abreast. I don't think Nthazes is here yet. If there's no more than one entrance, we'll retreat and wait, then smash through later—fast and hard. If we find a second one, we'll wait beside it until we hear the rest arrive."

Slowly and cautiously, I lead them around the loop. As if from far away, I can hear the faint sound of marching, oddly overlapped and its direction uncertain. The rest of the army is on its way through the labyrinth, but I don't imagine they'll be here anytime soon. And it's impossible to predict which passageway they'll emerge from.

I observe the carvings as I walk. I spot one where the creatures appear to be tunneling through the stone with their magic, and trampling upon dwarves as they do so. The dwarves are in symbol-covered armor—they must be runeknights. That means that this place is not quite as old as the city under the magma.

A shiver runs through me. Just how old was that place, exactly? Just how long ago were the first runes made? And why has the power awoken in me now, such a long time after its disappearance?

Why is it that my face is so similar to the face of a dwarf who lived so, so long ago? How can that be possible?

My ruby trembles slightly.

"I hear something," Ugyok whispers. "Can you, guildmaster? A silence ahead."

I gesture for a halt. I listen closely, then I hear it too. Just around the curve, a vast shadow is blocking the corridor. It seems not to be moving, though. Has the darkness made itself into some kind of barrier?

"Let's change formation," I order. "Four abreast—we can just about fit. I want as much power concentrated in Nightcutter as possible. Move."

They rearrange themselves with only minimal clattering. I orient Nightcutter straight up, to avoid disturbing the barrier when we come to it, then we slowly advance.

Around the bend, inch by inch, the shadow comes into proper hearing-view. As soon as I realize what it is, I halt. I look-listen in horror.

A great arm of nothing is stretching from the final chamber out into the nearest two exits. It is solid, a gaping chasm in air, light, everything. I've never witnessed the void so concentrated. The sorcerer is directing the full extent of its power outwards through the labyrinth. And at the end of this arm will be Nthazes, fighting desperately.

Can his craft withstand such power? Do I slash? Should I cut at it and try to help my friend? I don't think Nightcutter will be able to get all the way through. But at its end, Nthazes could be dying! The sorcerer could have him in its grasp already. I have to help him. I have to!

My ruby is shivering. It's growing hot. It wants me to strike. It wants the battle to begin, right now. According to its poem I am doomed to fight forever, and to know no peace.

That's why I want to slash—because the ruby wants me to. I struggle to hold Nightcutter upright. I must not cut with it!

I must not! Nthazes is my friend and I trust in his strength. Sight-Bringer will prevail against the shadow. Sunhammer alongside it will help too. The two strongest in the realm do not need my help, not yet. And the Runeking himself has given me my orders. I'm not to be the first to attack. We're the flankers, not the vanguard.

"We're going to march back," I say, slowly and firmly. "We are going to listen to the walls again, and find a weak point. Once we hear that Nthazes has come, we'll smash our way in. And he will come. Do not doubt this!"

I make to turn and march through to the other end of the formation, when something catches my ear. I stop my motion, listen closer. I can hear sound through the arm of shadow—marching. It's quiet, as quiet as the stepping of a beetle heard from a mile down twisting tunnel, but it's unmistakable, and more regular than before. I think it's close.

"Look!" someone hisses—Lekudr, I think. "Shade your eyes, everyone, and look!"

It feels odd, to choose to do what such a low-ranking dwarf says, and yet I find myself doing it anyway. The awe in his tone compels me. I shade my eyes to cut out my weapon's beam, and look out at the arm of shadow.

Within it, just at the nearest exit, surrounded by a halo of gray, is Nthazes. He is swinging left, right, left, battering against surges only he can hear. The shadow focuses, attempts to crush him. For a moment he vanishes, and then Sight-Bringer blazes brilliantly. His gray halo turns to white.

From the other exit, a golden halo gleams from a brazen hammer as Runethane Halmak steps through, screaming a quiet warcry. His elders follow, swinging with their own weapons.

A moment later, the rest of the Guardians emerge from behind Nthazes, led by Melkor. They beat savagely at the darkness, ravaging it. Everything becomes too bright; I shut my eyes again.

"Back!" I order. "Back, and then—we crash through!"

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