We glare at each other for long seconds, our gazes pushing against each other like two swords pressed together in combat.

I have slain his friend. The memories are clear now: the world of red, green, purple and blue in which the first stage of the battle was fought. The feel of my mace's weak impacts, the tremble of the ground as he charged, the roar as his hammer tore the air. My foolish underestimation, and then his final mistake—though if my craft had not deafened him, he wouldn't have committed it.

He agreed to fight me and the duel was fair. Runethane Halmak has no cause to imprison me, nor to even demand an account of my actions. I stare deep into his cold eyes. I will not show weakness in front of him. Fear rises in me, but I force it away.

"Zathar," he eventually says. It seems like he's about to say something after this, but nothing comes.

"Runethane Halmak," I say cautiously. "Greetings."

The tense silence returns. He breaks it once more, in a tone of utmost reluctance.

"Greetings."

"It is a shame about Elder Brezakh," I say carefully. "He was a fierce fighter."

"He was."

"It is a shame things had to happen the way they did. Truly."

"That is just how life works."

"Yes. I suppose so."

There is another pause. This time it is me who breaks it—I cannot hold back the question on my tongue.

"My Runethane, I dreamt that Nthazes was here and he told me that my guild was unharmed. I hope that was not, in fact, a dream."

"You wish to know the fate of your guild, you mean?"

"Yes. Please, my Runethane."

"Some were injured in the ensuing riot. Several badly. But you will be pleased to know that none were killed—on your side."

"I see. Ithis get carried away again, did he?"

"The one with a visor like a maw?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes, he did. But this time, no one can deny that it was in defense of himself and your Runic League."

"Who was it that attacked us? Your dwarves? Or those of the other guilds?"

"Some on both sides. It was a nasty affair—I don't wish to speak of it. In the end, I regained control of my realm."

"Thank you, my Runethane, for protecting them."

"You are welcome. Animosity still remains, however, despite my threats and warnings. So for the time being, for their safety, your guild is residing down here in the fort."

I nod. "Then I look forward to seeing them."

"I'm sure you have a lot to say."

"I do."

Silence, once more—until once more I cannot bear to hold back the question.

"The duel..." I bite my dry lips. "Who did you judge to have won?"

Halmak scowls. "Brezakh won, and then he lost. Does that answer satisfy you?"

"So I am not to be exiled from your realm?"

"No."

"Thank you, my Runethane."

"It is just how life worked out. There is nothing to thank me for, Zathar Runeforger."

"Runeforger? You have decided to—"

"Yes," he snaps. "Yes. I recognize your power. I have examined your armor and weapon, and the runes upon them are like none I have ever seen—certainly they are nothing like Bezethast script. My friend was right. You are the Second Runeforger."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

I bow my head. "Thank you, my Runethane."

"What are you thanking me for? I would have realized eventually. I should have realized sooner—then maybe he'd still be at my side."

I have no reply to that.

He shrugs. "Don't feel too sorry for me, Zathar. He's not the first friend I've seen killed in front of me, and he won't be the last. We are runeknights. It's our fate to suffer in such a manner. I'm sure you have realized this by now."

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Perhaps! You are still young. Maybe you think if you gain enough power, you'll be able to prevent such evils happening. But you won't. It doesn't matter how strong you grow—there will always be fates that cannot be stopped, comrades you cannot protect."

"I see, my Runethane."

"You will soon enough. In the battles to come, of which there are to be plenty."

"Against Uthrarzak, you mean. And against the darkness."

"The latter before the former, but yes."

"When that time comes, my Runethane, I will be honored to fight at your side."

"Will you, now?" His eyes flash. "Will you?"

Am I speaking the truth here? After all the persecution I've faced in his realm, and that my guild has faced—just for putting faith in me—am I still honored to fight with this Runethane?

Yes, I decide. I am. My words just now were truth; he has treated us fairly. I slew his friend, and yet he has recognized that the fight was fair and kept to his word. He cannot be compared to Vanerak. He is more akin to Guildmaster Wharoth. He keeps his promises. In that, he is a more noble dwarf than I am, too.

"I will," I tell him. "I will be honored to fight with you. Like I told you before the duel, I do not want to be your enemy. Believe me, Runethane Halmak—I don't fight for myself alone, not anymore. I use my power to protect those who've put their faith in me."

"In you, or in your power?"

"For some, just the latter. For most, maybe. But even so—I don't want to see more friends die in front of me."

"Very noble of you," he says, but in his tone there is a sharp edge of sarcasm.

"Like I have said, I never—"

"Enough!" he shouts, voice echoing around the tiny chamber. I flinch back.

"I'm sorry—"

"I don't need your apologies, Zathar! Spilled blood won't flow back into the veins. Bygones are bygones. He agreed to fight you. He attempted to kill you. If you attempt to kill someone, you ought to understand that they might end up killing you. I'm sure, for all his confidence, that somewhere, deep in his heart, he accepted that risk. So there is nothing to be sorry for. He lived like a runeknight, he fought like a runeknight, and then he died like a runeknight."

"In that case, my Runethane," I say quietly, "it was an honor to fight him."

"It was. It was a great honor."

Tears glint in his eyes. I look away. When I look back, they are gone.

Elder Brezakh was a true friend to him. An ally of centuries—I cannot imagine such a bond. I've hurt Halmak deeply—wounded him terribly. And yet even so, he seems to desire no revenge. I cannot imagine such control.

"Well?" he demands. "Have you anything else to say?"

"No, my Runethane."

"Good. Then, if I truly am your Runethane, I shall give you your orders."

"My orders?"

"War is coming with hated Uthrarzak. He will march within ten thousand long-hours."

"Not such a long time."

"Long enough to get things done, or so our Runeking has decided."

I frown. "Get things done?"

"Yes. Clear up all the thorns that have been digging into our sides. The iron trolls. The salamander infestations. Runethane Vanerak too, maybe. And to secure our borders—including the one down here."

"I see. He wants the fort reinforced. In that case, we will continue our work here."

"Along with the other guilds, you will redouble it. The Runeking has decided that we cannot abide the existence of a hostile force so close to the caravanways while fully at war. The darkness is to be eradicated. Guildmaster Nthazes has already agreed to this. We will prepare our weapons, and then we will march down to destroy the sorcerer below."

The air seems to cool. A chill runs over my skin. The lantern seems to dim a fraction, nearly flicker.

"We cannot just seal it in, I suppose," I ask.

"Darkness can slide through gaps in rubble, and there is no magma nearby. Those solutions have been debated and rejected—doubtless in ages past as well. No. The only solution is war."

"Runethane Yurok failed."

"But we will succeed—with your runes, we will succeed."

"My runes. I see. They're to be our weapon."

"Yes."

"Is this also an order of the Runeking?"

"No. It is my own judgment, made after consultation with Guildmaster Nthazes."

"I see. He puts faith in them too, then. I thought he'd cooled on them, but perhaps not."

"He does not like to use them, but recognizes their potential."

"That is good, but... My Runethane, it is a terrible foe down there." My fists clench. On my skin, I can still feel the cold of the voids that engulfed us, robbed the life from my comrades. "Truly terrible. We were no match for it. It is as powerful as a dragon, if not more so."

"If you are my runeknight, and I your Runethane," he says coldly, "then you should trust in my orders. In any case, we have no choice. The Runeking commands, and we obey."

I bow my head low. "Yes, my Runethane."

My task is to guard this place, to stand here bound, forever, my veins filled with dark and unnatural blood that chills my flesh with death rather than warming it with life.

This is the fate that was chosen for me in ages past: to protect the final lands from our cruel foes—that is my task. To devour their heat and light with cold and dark—that is my duty.

I will continue it until life itself turns to stone. I will stand here in the deepest place of the world and guard my people, all of us, our elders and children both from the invaders, from the monsters that spread throughout the world wielding sharp metal and a power like none that has ever been seen in all the hundred ages that life has existed upon the surface and below it.

Let them come, with their burning light, with the power of the blood of the world bent to their evil will. I wield my own cruel powers to match them. They will be destroyed, root, trunk, stem and leaf—they will wither.

They will come and die, and then the last power of my people will flood the world, and all will die so that, I dearly hope, we will be free once more to spread and take root in the recovering soils.

Let them come! The dwarves, let them come!

And let him come! The enslaver of the world's blood! The invader! The conqueror!

In their tongue—the Runeforger!

END OF PART TWO

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