I have Lekudr and Ithis organize the new training schedule for the army. Our soldiers must be kept busy, must be sharpening themselves constantly. The fights will not be random; guild will compete against guild for gold and honor. To prevent divisions being stoked through this, I tell my captains that team matches are to be organized also. Guilds that fight against each other fiercely will also have to fight alongside each other.

The gold will come from my own purse. I have enough of it.

I leave Ithis and Lekudr bickering over the details in the hall—the former's violent tendencies will hopefully be balanced out by the latter's caution. I tell them to emphasize tactics over passion; I want to see my dwarves' strategies improve. Our previous training in the caravans, though good for morale, did not quite have this effect.

We'll see how it goes. If I'm happy with the results, I'll ask some of the other Runethanes if their dwarves might like to join in. I'm sure Gaflek will be willing, and probably Ytith too.

Back in the forge, I lay out the half-millimeter sheets of titanium on the anvil and pick up my diamond-edged knife. Unlike most tools for cutting metal, it is not serrated. True metal is too precious to turn to dust, so the blade is like a sword's.

It does not cut fast, but it does cut well. It is as good as the one I used in Vanerak's realm, and well-worth the two thousand golden wheels it cost to have made.

I start to trace the outlines of the shapes on the titanium. I go softly, slowly, almost stroking the metal rather than cutting into it. I cross-reference every section with my drawings, and measure exactly before I make each stroke. It is painstaking work. My hand starts to feel strangely light, and my eyes begin to ache, so closely do I focus.

The layering technique considered superior to all others is to fold a sheet of metal over and over. The runes are worked into the molten metal, dissolve yet somehow keep their form. But I don't know how to accomplish this—the mixture of reagents used is different for each dwarf, and all are a closely guarded secrets, not written down in any book.

So, I'm using one of the simpler methods for this knife. The shapes I'm tracing are cross-sections of the knife. Once I've cut them out, it'll look as if I took a knife and sliced it twenty-nine times along the horizontal.

Upon each, and on each side of each, will be part of the poem. Then, once the runes are grafted, all will be carefully welded together. This technique, though crude, avoids the pitfalls of the other ones. I will not have to forge runes and graft them directly to molten metal.

With the shapes traced and triple-checked, it's now time to cut them out. I hold the knife exactly straight and drag it back then forth.

It is not quite as challenging as making the sheets were, yet it is just as slow. It takes me several hours—or so I estimate—until the first and smallest shape comes free from the metal. I start on the adjacent, a fraction larger, and after another hour, it too comes free.

Twenty-eight to go now, and the middle pieces will be nearly the same length as the dagger itself is to be. Once, I would have dreaded this task for its length. Now, I dread it because I know it may all end up a waste, should the next stage of the crafting go awry.

On I go anyway, cutting as slowly as I can. Time loses meaning, and I stop being able to perceive how quickly or slowly my knife moves. It moves with great accuracy, and that is all that matters. One by one the shapes come free from each other. I reach the central sections, and then the pieces once more begin to diminish in size as I work my way to the other side.

The last piece comes free. I clear away the off-cuts of the sheets, whispering promises to use them again in my next craft. Now I re-measure each shape. In height and width they are perfect but, I realize, as I inspect the edges carefully through sight and sound, they are imperfect in depth. Despite my best efforts, I could not quite hold my knife vertical throughout.

I scrape the excess metal away over yet more hours. Flakes fall to the anvil, glittering with silver light. They are shaped like mocking smiles. I grit my teeth, holding back curses. I did not make such mistakes when crafting my War Armor, nor when I made Steelpierce.

Part of me thought I'd moved beyond mistakes. How foolish! I've grown arrogant in my time as Runethane. I have faced challenges for sure, but none as great as I faced during my time as a struggling runeknight. Despite the great strength of my crafts, luxury has made me weaker than I once was.

Finally, the task is done, each layer of the dagger as perfect as I can make it. The next time I return to the forge, it'll be time for the runes.

My hands clench into fists as I remember what script I have set my mind to making. I shake my head. I don't have to do it yet. I have other duties to attend to; I must inspect my army's training.

My Runic League has impressed me once more. It has been only four long-hours since I left my captains organizing the new training regimen, and it is already being enacted.

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Ithis leads me to a roped-off old tunnel where they hold the bigger mock-battles. It's wide as mining tunnels go, enough to fit ten runeknights abreast. From our perch, a wooden stand set in an adjoining tunnel, I look over the two opposing forces. Fifty face off against one hundred, the more numerous team wielding wooden pikes, the smaller with replicas of axes, swords, and hammers.

"No one knows how to fight with pikes well, so we needed to even the advantage somehow," Ithis explains. "Rigging the numbers is a simple solution, but effective."

I nod. "Good. Who wins most often now, then?"

"I'd say six in ten go to the pikes. Depends on who's leading them—if they've studied up on the war histories or not."

"If possible, every dwarf ought to study up on the war histories. Have the guildmasters take responsibility for that. Have some of the Runic League summarize some of the more useful texts—they can use those."

"I'll get on it, Runethane. Just as soon as this fight ends." He grins widely and pulls down his visor—he has crafted it to look like the bared teeth of a troll. "It's going to be a brutal one."

"More brutal than usual? I heard one of the lower degrees lost an eye the other hour."

"Lekudr exaggerates. We managed to pull out the splinter. It should heal up fine."

"Good. I do not want too much realism, Ithis. I don't want anyone dying before the fighting starts."

"Of course," he says, then pauses. "Though, we wouldn't have trouble finding replacements—there have been a lot of applications from Allabrastian dwarves to join our army. Nearly a hundred for the Runic League alone."

I run my fingers through my beard. This could end up being a useful development. There's no time to discuss it now, however. The two forces' leaders are looking up at us expectantly.

I raise Steelpierce.

"Begin!" I command.

The attacking force of fifty dwarves lets out a war-cry and charges. The tunnel shakes; a cloud of dust rises. The opposing team's leader shouts a command, and they brace. Eighty pikes descend; the front two rows carry massive shields. Small wooden swords hang from their belts.

A few seconds later, the attackers hit the pikes. Their goal is to get to the shields, bring those down to clear the way, yet the defenders' storm of jabbing pike-heads is proving effective. The attackers defend with weapon and shield both, battering the points away, yet each is attacked twice or more times a second. Perfect defense is impossible.

"Lekudr encouraged me to make the rules stricter!" Ithis shouts over the cacophony of rabid screaming and wood on metal. "A first degree can take twenty strikes! It goes down by one until tenth—they are allowed to take two strikes. See how the pike-heads are colored? White is strongest, down to red. Red counts as one hit, white as five. There is a similar system in place for the other weapons, too!"

"And your judges can really keep track of it all?" I shout back. "No one cheats?"

"A few were caught!" Ithis laughs. "I punished them myself. Now everyone's too scared to cheat."

Indeed, the combatants do seem to be honoring the rules. Several stronger members of the attacking force bow out and back away through the lines, and none give any angry displays of injured pride. I'm impressed by their discipline.

A few of the pikes are grabbed and dragged forward. The dwarves holding them let go. I'm sure they know from experience what happens to those who keep hold of their weapons. Gaps open, and some of the attackers make it through to the shield-wall.

They start battering it down. Shield-dwarves fall. There are two layers, though, so when one does, another steps in to take his place. And, when possible, a pikedwarf will drop his weapon and rush in to take up a fallen shield.

To us, this is most un-dwarven behavior. Picking up another's weapon in the heat of battle when yours is lost or broken is understandable, but to throw your own away—disgusting!

Yet such acts are mentioned in the histories time and again. Uthrarzak's dwarves do not think as we do. Their legions are as one. They live together, forge together, and never leave one another's side. There is no independence, and rule-breakers are punished swiftly and without mercy.

A terrible way to live.

The commander of the attackers screams an order, and a group of elites rush to a weakness in the line of shields. They crash through. The pike-dwarves behind scream in panic. Wood splinters on armor. Someone cries out in pain and flees, clutching an injured arm. The attackers continue to cut and hack, breaking apart the defenders from within. I nod in satisfaction. This will be how we'll defeat Uthrarzak's legions.

But not all is yet lost for the defenders. A senior runeknight toward the middle of them shouts an order, and the back half of the pike-block begins an orderly retreat. Those in the front half with sufficient wherewithal to notice what's happening drop their weapons and run back. Those without are cut down, but now the attacking force, whittled down to about twenty, is left exposed.

"Charge!" screams the runeknight who ordered the retreat.

The pike-dwarves rush forward. They do not run at maximum speed, like the attackers did, but rather at a quick march. When they come in range of their foes, they thrust as one. The attackers, caught by surprise, defend poorly. Half fall.

The remaining ten put a spirited performance. They regroup and manage to take down a dozen more of the enemy, but before long, they fall also.

Ithis orders everyone to get back in formation, then he has them turn to face us.

"Excellent work," he says. "An excellent performance, especially from the defending side. They will be rewarded this time, but remember you are comrades, working together for a common goal: defeat of the enemy. I won't have any fights breaking out over the result. You'll get many more chances."

"Yes, captain!" they chorus.

"Any words for them, Runethane?"

I point to the pike-dwarf who ordered the fall-back and surprise charge. "Come forward," I order.

He comes forth and kneels before me. "Yes, my Runethane?"

"What's your name?"

"I am Taledr, second-degree of the Steel Slayers."

"I know of your guild. We've fought together, have we not?"

"Yes, many times. Against trolls."

"You show an impressive command of tactics."

"Thank you, my Runethane. Your praise honors me."

"You have been studying the histories, have you?"

"Our guildmaster demands it."

"Good. You are a good example to the rest of the army. I'll triple your reward for this fight. This is advance payment for you and your guildmaster, and any others you think fit, to instruct some of the others in strategy."

The runeknight looks up and meets my eyes. They are wide. "Thank you, my Runethane! We'll do this duty with pride."

I nod to Ithis. "If any other guilds show particular talent, give them the same duty and reward. Not just from the pike-wielding side, too. We need counter-tactics also. And counters to those counters, and so on. Originality, and the discipline to carry out maneuvers in the heat of battle—that is what I want to see developed."

"Yes, guildmaster!"

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