"Humans?" I ask. "How many? Are they armed? Do they have wizards?"

"It's hard to tell how many," answers the breathless runeknight. "They're all on animals. But there's wizards to be sure, in robes and holding staves. They're leader doesn't look like one though. He's some kind of warrior in gilded armor."

Hope and anxiety both spin within me. My letter must have arrived safely and been read by someone important. Gilded armor—gold is even more precious to humans than it is to us. Their leader might be some kind of king or prince. But have they really come to help? Humans are unpredictable.

"Take me to him," I order. "Captain Brognir—you're in command until I return."

"Yes, my Runethane!"

I order ten senior runeknights to join me, then the messenger leads us through the lines. The scale of our army astounds me anew: never before have I seen so many runeknights gathered in one place. It is as if we walk through a forest of steel, or a cave whose stalagmites are silver. The sunlight, shining brightly from above, reflects off the armor and weapons of all, and I am half-blinded. My runic ears are in my pack—most bear supplies of some sort, water and rations mostly—I will equip them as soon as I return from speaking with the humans.

But I do not need them to be able to hear the whispers rippling on the wind:

"They say humans have come?"

"Humans? The traitors of Hyvaen who let our foes through?"

"Have they come to attack us?"

"This fearsome heat is their work, no doubt! They have such tricks."

"We will soon see them off. Size will work to their disadvantage. We'll rend their beasts' bellies from below!"

It seems that most are not very happy to have them here. And I cannot really blame them, having learned deeply of the old battles fought between our peoples. Alliances with humans have been few since we were driven from our mountains by them. Yet I must hope that today a new one will be forged, if we are to win and still preserve our strength for the worse fights to come.

Before too long, the humans come into view. Mounted on their beasts called horses, they tower over our lines. The dwarves in front of them have edged back—all but for a hefty one in ornate armor, who must be Thanic Guardsdwarf Borbam.

The lines part for us and we soon reach them. I stand beside Borbam and look up. Every last one of the humans is mounted, so it is like a vast herd of horses stretches out over the plains before us, all stamping and chomping on their bits.

Their riders are in unadorned scaled armor and have curved swords at their belts, or else axes. Strapped to their backs are long spears.

Their leader, standing in the center and staring down at me, is the pinnacle of them. His horse is the most massive, and he is nearly troll-like in stature himself. His armor is gilded to a far better standard than I imagined, and patterns on the tip of his spear gleam.

As for his face, he is darker even than Jaemes was, skin burned from many days riding under the sun. His nose is large and hooked, and his brow is unlined—he is young, I realize. Very young. But in his eyes I can see that he has witnessed many a battle.

Beside him, on smaller horses, are wizards in cloaks of gray, holding long staves. They are both men and women, though the warriors surrounding them all look to be male. When their leader speaks, something deep and melodic in the tongue of Hyvaen, it is a green-eyed woman wizard on his right who translates:

"Are you the Runeforger?"

"That I am," I say.

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"He is," says wide Borbam. "I can vouch for that."

"Our council received your letter," the human says through his translator. "Out of all those we received from your kind, it was the most politely phrased. Most who sent demanded our help rather than asked for it."

"I did not think we were in much of a position to demand anything, with two enemies on our doorstep."

"Indeed not. But we have come all the same. As you rightly pointed out, the Twins of the sandstone lands have done us a grievous insult by crossing our borders so wantonly."

"If I may be so bold, who are you, horse-leader?" I ask. "You seem to be a king or thane in your own right."

"My name is Saem, and I am a prince from the southernmost part of our empire. My men and I have fought against the desert dwarves before and thus it was decided that we should be the ones to help you today."

"How many are under your command?"

"I have but a small host—twenty thousand horse and two dozen wizards."

"It seems to me a great number. We are grateful. Or at least, I am." I glance to Borbam, who is squinting up with suspicion. "Not everyone is glad you've come."

"They will be, once all is over with. Never before have I seen so many of the desert dwarves gathered together, and some are very fierce indeed. Doubtless if we were to put all our strength against them, we would be victorious, of course—but we cannot leave our borders undefended. Nor can we lessen our guard around the holes into the underworld, the troll raids from which are becoming more and more vicious with every passing year."

I nod in understanding. "I am sure that your might combined with ours, Prince Saem, will be plenty. Especially your wizards." I look across them. The shifting gray of their cloaks and hats bring back uncomfortable memories. "Though, I ask that you be careful where you aim your lightnings!"

An elderly wizard to the right of Prince Saem shrugs. "We will try our best, dwarf. But lightning goes where it wills, and does not discriminate even between men and trolls, let alone dwarves and other dwarves."

Borbam's expression darkens, and I hear angry shouts and the clashing of weapons on shields and breastplates behind me. The woman wizard who was interpreting hurries to speak:

"We will aim as carefully as we can, dwarves! We won't cast into the melee. Only their back lines."

The angry grumbling lessens, though does not die away completely.

"I trust you completely," I say. "Never has any man or woman of Hyvaen given me reason to doubt your people's honor."

Prince Saem says something again, and the woman wizard translates:

"Indeed, we have heard many tales of your realm and the humans who helped you gain it from traders. Perhaps once the battle is done, there will be time for you to tell them in full. Not now, though. The foes are nearly upon us."

"You can see better than I."

He scans across the horizon, and then over our lines. He frowns, and says a few more words.

"I see no bows or ballistae among your forces."

"We rarely have need for such," says Borbam, crossing his arms. "Why forge something you will never see again after the first strike?"

"I am aware of your customs, but I thought that considering the rumors of dragons you would have brought at least a few."

A sudden hush goes over our lines. My blood stops in my veins as my heart misses a beat; even my ruby cools for a moment.

"Pardon me?" I say.

Prince Saem frowns. "You have not heard the rumors that two dragons fly above their forces?"

"Dragons?"

He exchanges a few words with his interpreter. Annoyance crosses her face.

"I am getting the word right?" she says to me directly. "Dragon. Great scaly beasts which fly, have innards of fire, and are said by some to be specters of greed made manifest."

"There are dragons with them? Flying above them?"

"Yes. No one has ever heard of dragons allying with dwarves, but that is the tale going around. To me, I think it more likely that they wish to plunder the battlefield for treasure once both sides are weakened. But no one can be sure."

"Do you have ballistae of your own?" I ask. Panic is growing in me. "We must have some defense against them!"

"Some of our warriors have bows. I doubt they'll be any use. But lightning has felled many a dragon, which it is why twenty-four from our college of clouds have come, and none from the university. Sun-heat does not hurt beasts of fire."

"I see." I swallow. My heart is beating rapidly. "Prince Saem, I must inform the Runeking immediately. Thank you for coming. Thank you for fighting with us, although I'd advise you from straying too close to our forces, in case of any confusion as to who the enemy is."

After my words are translated, he nods. "We will be careful."

"Your lightnings," I say to the wizards. "Are you confident they can fell a dragon?"

"Two dragons," corrects the old wizard to Prince Saem's right. "Always two together."

"Can you fell them?"

"Perhaps. Certainly we can weaken them. Such a feat has not been done in a long time, but if there exist wizards who can accomplish it, they are gathered here." He smiles crookedly. He's truly ancient-looking, this human, near the end of his natural lifespan. He sits askew on his horse, as if he might fall from it at any moment. "We will give it our best attempt, for the honor of the Black and Purple College."

"Our Headmaster is mean with his words, but accurate with his spells," says the woman wizard. "We'll bring at least one of the beasts down."

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