It is over. It is done—we all seem to come to the realization at the same moment. I step back and, a moment later, so does everyone else. Our boots are slippery with blood—red blood. Before us, the sorcerer lies broken. Its arms and legs have lost all form. The skin of its body is rent open and bone shows through. Its head has been pulverized by Sight-Bringer and Sunhammer, its crown-like horns shattered to splinters.

One yellow eye remains intact, staring blankly.

Nothing remains of the orb but dust. Every last shard of it has been thoroughly trampled under our metal boots.

"We won," says Runethane Halmak, very quietly, like he can't believe it, as if our victory is an illusion that will shatter if spoken of. "We did it. It's dead."

Nthazes says nothing. He is motionless, listening intently, perhaps for some sign of life from the broken monster, yet none comes.

And now, standing here in the quiet, finally with a moment of calm in which to reflect, I find that I am in disbelief myself. I expected it to be harder, somehow. Can the darkness, the awful force that has terrorized the fort since before all memory, really be gone? It seems unbelievable. All those dwarves of the deep before us, many of whom were first-degrees and Runethanes too, dedicated their whole lives to stopping it. How can we have done what they could not?

Is it because Runethane Yurok managed to weaken it? Was he, that figure I used to despise so much, correct in the end?

No. Not quite. He helped. But in the end, victory has been in large part due to me. This is not arrogance, but simple fact. My runes were the key that unlocked the door to the sorcerer's end. Without them, I could not have made a craft like Nightcutter. Without them, my Runic League would not have been able to make their weapons so well—and neither would have the dwarves in the other guilds. Most use my runes, not the old ones.

They are easier to use than the First Runeforger's runes of light. They are not superior—yet there are more of them available, which makes composing lines to fit your poem that much simpler. The runic flow is not so tricky either, once you get the knack of the positives and negatives.

That is how this ancient enemy has been defeated—with new runes. With the power of the Second Runeforger. Convinced, finally, of our victory, I turn to face my guild.

"Runic League!" I shout. "We have won! Victory! Hazhulam! Hazhulam!"

Ithis raises his hammer and they start to chant, but too quietly. On the steps lie more than a dozen of our number, slain while rendered defenseless by my weapon. Our victory has come at a price.

The rest of the guilds join in to make up the difference many times over, though, and the echoing becomes deafening.

The chanting continues for a while, until Runethane Halmak holds up a hand to signal silence. He shoots me a warning glare.

"Yes, this is a great victory. But all is not yet finished."

I frown. A sense of foreboding comes over me. What does he mean? And I notice something else—where is Elanak? Where is the Eye of Runeking Ulrike, meant to be watching over us?

Nthazes turns suddenly to face Runethane Halmak.

"What?" he says. "Zathar is correct—we have won. Victory is ours. The Second Runeforger has proven to be all that we hoped for. The sorcerer is dead and the darkness is no more." He gestures to the broken body before us. "Or do you see some sign of life, Runethane?"

"I do not, no. I did not mean that the darkness remains."

"Then what do you mean?" Nthazes asks. "To my ears, there is nothing more to be done here but the final burying of this place. Once the dead have been taken up, miners will be brought in. They will collapse the city and pile its stones into this pit."

"Yes. But not yet."

"Why not?" I say. "My Runethane, with all respect, you are not making sense."

"We cannot bury this thing until we know what it was."

"It was the darkness," Nthazes says. "And now it is gone. Its evil has been ended. Let us be done with it forever. I shattered it—did you not see?"

"I saw," says the Runethane.

What's he going on about? I frown. Something's off about his tone.

"Then make yourself clear. My Runethane," says Nthazes. There is a hint of anger in his voice.

"We have never stopped to consider the question of why, Guildmaster Nthazes."

"Why what?"

Runethane Halmak raises his voice so that everyone in the pit can hear him. "Why the sorcerer was so keen on standing here. Why it never rose from the pit to attack us in the city. Why it never walked to the base of the Shaft, where its powers might better be able to reach up and do harm to you."

"This was its fortress," Nthazes counters. "That's why it never left."

"We believe this to be incorrect."

"We?" I say. "Who is this 'we', my Runethane? And where is Elanak? I do not see her. I would ask the Runeking's opinion on all of this."

Runethane Halmak looks solemn. "Elanak fell, unfortunately. The darkness took her and, with no weapon of light, she was defenseless."

My eyes widen. Fallen? How could that be, if she was standing alongside the Runethane? How could someone so strong, a first degree clad in true metal—true gold—have fallen so easily?

"Could you not protect her?" I ask.

"I tried. Unfortunately, I could not succeed. The darkness, as a thing of un-light, shattered the Eye and a moment later brought her low too. I tried to beat it away but, alas, to no avail."

The darkness shattered the Eye? He is lying, I'm sure of it. My skin prickles. Did he smash the Eye and then destroy her?

No. He wouldn't risk the Runeking seeing such an act. He's no fool. He was craftier than that: when the darkness came for them, he held back and let it subsume her. Then, in the seconds that the Runeking was blinded, he swung, shattered the Eye. She was rendered truly defenseless then. In the next second, he stepped back away to let it finish her off.

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Yes, this is what happened. I'm sure of it. There's no other explanation.

All of this started with a murder. Now, will it end with one too? But why? Why would Runethane Halmak dare destroy her? Why would he risk the Runeking's ire? I thought he was reasonable, or at least more so than the other Runethanes I've met.

"It's time for us to leave this place," says Nthazes. "The bodies must be brought up and a funeral held. Then, we must collapse the city as soon as we can. No memory must remain of it—only rubble. It must be utterly destroyed."

"Yes," agrees the Runethane. "But later. First, we must understand why the sorcerer was here. And I have my suspicions."

"What are they?" I ask, though I think I can guess. "Tell us, my Runethane."

"In the second city, below the rubble on top of which the broken orb lay, my dwarves discovered a circle in the stone, and a handle. They tried to pull it open, but the pressure of the water above was too great. I know what must have been in there, though. I know what our ancient ancestors were looking for."

He pauses. Tension grips the air as the gathered dwarves wait for his next words.

"Treasure, my dwarves!" he bellows. "That's what the sorcerer has been guarding. Artifacts of immense value and power, preserved since more ancient times. We have slain a great evil—now it is time for our reward!"

His Red Anvil guild cheers, and dwarves from some of the others join in too. But the Runic League stays silent alongside me, and the Guardians the same alongside Nthazes.

"That does not make sense," Nthazes says coldly, after the cheers die down a little. "If it was a mere guard, why try to kill us in the fort? It was our attacker."

"It needed to keep you away, ward you off. Or perhaps it just had an ancestral hatred of our kind, and was compelled to seek you out, no matter how far you were from discovering its charge. In any case, we will soon see the proof." He turns to address the Red Anvil elders. "Shift the corpse. Shove it away. Reveal what lies beneath."

Before the Guardians can move to stop them, four second and first degree runeknights break through the crowd and lay their bronze-gloved hands against the monster's broken body. They heave and shout as they attempt to push it aside. It moves few yards, making a sticky, scraping sound, and leaving a trail of blood. Runethane Halmak gestures to some more bronze-clad dwarves, and they join in the effort, grunting and straining. Some go around and pull at it from the other side.

I look at Nthazes. I cannot tell his emotions, for his visor is down, but can guess at his fury. He wants to be done with this place. He has lost many, including his oldest friends—Melkor still does not move.

The dwarves of the deep were bound to defend against the darkness to preserve the lives of others, and for that objective alone. Theirs was a selfless duty. They gained nothing from it. No power, no riches. Even their Runethanes lived with little luxury. And now this new Runethane, an outsider, sees their greatest triumph as nothing more than an opportunity to indulge his greed.

Yes, Nthazes is furious. He has every right to be so.

"There!" someone cries. "My Runethane, do you see it?"

One of the senior runeknights is gesturing wildly. I listen closely at the floor and see the edge of a circle, cut deeply into the stone. The Runethane is correct. The monster was guarding something, just like Alae guessed.

"Stop!" Nthazes shouts. "There could be greater danger within. Whatever artifacts the monster guarded, they were not made for dwarven use. This is a foolish risk, Runethane! And what if more guards lie in wait within?"

His words give the dwarves still straining to shove away the corpse pause, and they pull away from it.

"Then we'll slay them, too," says the Runethane. "We have just killed their greatest."

"This is a fool risk, my Runethane. At least we should regroup, bring down reinforcements. The Runeking—"

"Why should our glory be shared?" Runethane Halmak spits. "This was our victory, no? What does the Runeking, so far away, and so unwilling to lend further strength, have to do with this? He deserves no cut. This treasure is for Brightdeep. And I am Runethane here, Nthazes! You do as I command. This is my realm! The Runeking may favor you and Zathar, but this remains my realm!"

Cold sweat dampens my skin. So that's is why Halmak is acting this way—his anger and jealousy have become too much to bear. First, he was forced to endure the death of his friend—I now see that he only spared me because of pressure exerted on him from the Runeking. Maybe it was direct, or maybe it was only implied, but in either case he knew Runeking Ulrike would not take kindly to any news of me being punished.

I thought he treated me justly because he believed in justice. It seems I've been mistaken.

From then on, the situation only grew worse. My guild went from strength to strength while his stagnated. The vital discovery of the orb in the second city was made by us, not his Red Anvil runeknights, despite their greater numbers.

And then came the final weight that tipped the scales: the Runeking praised Sight-Bringer and Nightcutter more highly than his Sunhammer. Halmak is Runethane, and yet his crafts are not the greatest in the realm. Halmak is Runethane, and yet he is not the strongest here.

He wants to regain control. That's what this is about. It's not so simple as mere greed. He wants to regain control and take whatever treasure lies below for himself to redistribute as he pleases. He believes it could make him and his guild the strongest in Brightdeep again. And he does not want the Runeking interfering.

"It may be your realm, my Runethane, but the fort is mine to protect also," says Nthazes. "This is reckless. It will lead to ruin. We have won. Let this be the end."

"Stay here, then. I am not asking you lead us. I do not ask others to do my duty for them—I lead from the front. I and the elders of the Red Anvil will be the vanguard."

"Though there may indeed be riches down there," I say, carefully, "we ought to wait. We need more runeknights with us. And if it isn't more darkness within, we'll need ordinary weapons too."

"We have plenty of force as it is. Since when has the soft interior been stronger than the walls around it? The most we have to worry about is traps, and light will serve us well for spotting them. And if there are guards, we will blind them. You are an expert at that, no?"

This is idiocy, I want to cry. We have no idea what is in there. Where is his patience? But now that I've suggested waiting, there is no way that he will. That would be the same as accepting the Runeking's judgment that I am his superior.

"We must bury this place," Nthazes repeats, stubbornly.

"We will. Afterwards!"

He has lost his reason and patience. Things have come to a breaking point. He is going to go down, and we cannot stop him. And despite everything, part of me cannot completely deny his logic. Why should this hatch worry us? The guard has been defeated. Within is the treasure, ours for the taking. And if it is defended further, if there's a fight to be had—and my ruby warms itself at the thought—it's better that I be there to lend my strength, too.

"I will follow," I say. "You are my Runethane. If there is something down there, I ought to be at your side, ready to fight."

"You can lead the rearguard."

"Of course."

That order was to be expected, I think bitterly.

"In that case, I will go as well," says Nthazes. "I must protect the realm from whatever horrors you unleash before they have any chance to escape this place."

"There will be no horrors," snaps the Runethane.

"We will see."

"We will. Get back to work, guildsdwarves. Drag the monster away!"

His runeknights resume their heaving and grunting. After a few minutes, the hatch is fully revealed. It is perfectly circular, with a rather large handle cut into it at the side opposite me.

"Open it," orders the Runethane.

One of the elders kneels down beside the gore-coated circle and reaches for the handle. I tense and raise Nightcutter. Nthazes raises Sight-Bringer.

Suddenly, the elder stops.

"What is it?" demands the Runethane. "Why have you paused?"

"There's something here, my Runethane. A kind of chain."

I listen more closely, and see-hear that he's correct. Leading out from a hole just beside the handle is a thin, chain-like thing. I kneel down and lean forward to try and hear its shape better. It's not quite a chain. It's composed of many tiny spheres and leads to the monster's leg. No, not just to the monster's leg—into it. It disappears into its flesh.

I do not like the look of it one bit. There is magic within those spheres. I am sure of this.

"I will say it one final time, my Runethane," says Nthazes. "There is danger down there. We should not descend. This thing is an ill omen. I can feel it."

"We shall descend," the Runethane says. "Why should we care for this trinket? It's nothing more than the first of our rewards. There is nothing to worry about. Hear me, my dwarves! We have won the battle. All that remains is to collect the spoils. March with me." He gestures to the hatch. "Open it!"

The runeknight grips the handle with both hands and begins to lift.

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