"Runeking Ulrike!" I shout. "My Runeking—you must listen!"

I nearly fall at his feet, my words taking the last breath from my lungs. I have just run across our whole front-lines, along what seemed like a line of a thousand runeknights all standing bright under the sun. The ground was spongy, difficult to walk on compared with stone, let alone run, and I fell over at one point. My War Armor is dirtied, but I do not care.

The news of dragons occupies my every thought.

"What is it, Zathar?" Ulrike says, in a somewhat distracted tone of voice. His focus must be elsewhere.

"If you turn your Eyes anywhere, turn them to the sky, my Runeking! The humans have brought news of dragons."

"Dragons? I have seen none."

"They fly far above the enemy forces. There's two of them—isn't that a strange coincidence?"

He frowns behind his golden visor. His towering crown glows suddenly with power, and hints of images glint in the depths of the Eyes set there.

"I see them now," he says. "Far away, and dressed in many chains."

"My fears are true, then."

"Yes. They are controlled."

Panic takes me anew. "We must do something! Do we not have ballistae down in the city?"

"It will take a long while for them to be retrieved, brought up, and assembled."

"Then we're finished! The wizards claim they can fell them, of course, the humans who have come, but these are dragons! And two of them!"

"They are not the black dragon. These are only of average size."

When the black dragon burned the Association of Steel, it was yet young and small. Its fire scorched to death dozens of strong runeknights regardless, and its teeth and claws tore the flesh and armor of many more.

"I think we should retreat, my Runeking."

He shakes his head. "We cannot. The enemy is already here. Can you not see in the distance? There is a wave of dark rushing toward us." He points. "Shade your eyes and squint if you must."

I do so and see that he is correct. A rippling tide of black is advancing at a steady pace over the grassland. If the deep darkness had ever escaped its imprisonment, it would have looked like this. Some of the runeknights around us, from Duthur and Kalthan's realms, look afraid.

"What is that?" I gasp.

"You sound terrified," someone scoffs. "The dark is from their canopies to keep out the sun. Below it are dwarves like us, though poorly armored."

I turn and see Runethane Duthur. His diamond spear is tall beside him, reflects the sun's light it catches in a thousand colors.

"There are dragons after us," I snap, his overconfidence irritating me so much that I forget my usual fear. "Have you ever faced one?"

"Dragons?"

"Yes. Have you ever faced one? Well?"

"I have," he says, recovering quickly from his surprise. "In my younger days. We will deal with them easily enough. Once they exhaust their fire, they will be forced to land—or else they'll fly off and trouble us no more."

"Once they exhaust their fire," I say, "we will all be ashes."

"Zathar speaks truly," says Runeking Ulrike. "This is grievous, Duthur. We should be thankful that he has brought it to our attention."

"It was the humans we should be thanking," I say. "Especially since their lightnings are the only defense we have."

"We have our armor," Duthur says. "It would take a hot flame indeed to melt mine."

"Their heat will prove plenty deadly for most of our forces," says Runeking Ulrike. Consternation crosses his face. "We have no choice but to spread out."

"Thin the lines?" Duthur says. "It will be easy for the horde to overrun us, then."

"I see no other choice."

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Our Runeking clenches his fists. A shiver runs through me—he is deeply concerned. Perhaps even scared.

"That would bring chaos!" Duthur says. "Listen to my counsel, Runeking. We must stand firm and trust in our armor—and in the wizards, too, as much as it pains me to admit it."

"The latter I agree with. The former suggestion is foolish. Too many will be roasted."

"The thicker a block of steel, the harder it is to melt. Pressed together, most can survive."

"And we will also be rendered immobile, and you underestimate dragonflame regardless. Dragons from the south burn especially hot inside."

Duthur does not give up. "With respect, you are overestimating the discipline of our army. Too many regiments will be overwhelmed if we thin the lines."

"I would rather take my chances with dwarves than dragons."

"I agree," I say, "if my opinion matters at all."

Duthur ignores me. "Let us see what the wizards can do, and then we will spread our forces."

"That ends it," says the Runeking. "Lightning can leap from dwarf to dwarf as well as from the skies. We will thin the lines immediately. We will expand in all directions—at a steady pace, mind. My tools will supervise the maneuvering."

"Very well." Duthur shakes his head, finally defeated. "But many will be slain."

"Either way they will be," says the Runeking. "This was always going to be a great slaughter."

"Now it will be a greater one—dragons! Who could have predicted this?" He seems to grow angry again. "Did your spies report nothing of them?"

"I have less than you assume. And my Eyes were not directed at the sky. My focus was on the underground, for infiltrators. I am not omniscient."

"Indeed you are not," Duthur says.

Runeking Ulrike scowls. His many Eyes flash. "What is that meant to mean?"

"It means exactly what I said, my Runeking." Duther steps back, rather quickly. "I will now lead my dwarves as you have directed. We will remain unscorched, and be the greater strength of our force."

"Go then. You too, Zathar. If you can, have the humans bring their wizards to the center."

"They won't agree to that."

"Still, ask them."

"Yes, my Runeking."

I bow then hurry back through the lines, which are already beginning to shift and march under the tinny barked orders that spout from the golden automatons. Ulrike has dispersed them thinly through the army, I notice. Now that they're all raising their scepters, they are easy to spot.

But not all dwarves are obeying them. Some blocks stay together, especially on Kalthan's side. Senior runeknights are arguing loudly, saying the order is a foolish one, while other sections are panicking, and pushing and shoving in terror of the dragons. In the distance I glimpse a fight breaking out, dwarves of opposing opinions shoving each other into the trampled dirt, yelling.

Perhaps Duthur was right after all, and we ought to stay together. Ill-discipline might indeed prove more deadly than flame. But it's too late now.

"Guildmaster?" says Captain Brognir on my return. The Runic League has not yet moved. "What's going on? Are the enemies here?"

"Move!" shouts an automaton nearby. "All of you, march out and spread! There are dragons about! No one is to be less than a spear's length away from the warrior next to him!"

"Silence!" I snap at it. "My Runic League, and all my other forces besides, will move at my command only!"

It shuts up immediately. Runeking Ulrike trusts that I'll obey soon enough, it seems.

"Dwarves!" I shout. "Those of the Runic League and all else who have come with us from Brightdeep. Hear me—dragons are upon us!"

There is no way my voice will reach all ten thousand, but my words will be relayed back.

"I have slain a dragon before, the black dragon, greatest of its kind in our age!" I continue. "Indeed that is one of my titles—I am Zathar Dragonslayer!" I point Steelpierce upward. "Today, though, they attack us from the sky. Our only defense is the humans I have treated with. They bring many fearsome wizards. Trust in them as I trusted in Jaemes and Alae. The latter was a wizard in her own right, and without her we would have perished at the hands of the time-sorcerer. They are great allies!"

"Hooray for the humans!" some yell out.

"So do not worry about the flames. Worry about the dwarves who come for you afterward. Slay them all! And when the dragons are brought down, slay them too, if you can!"

A great cheer goes up.

"Now, obey the command of Runeking Ulrike, and spread wide. Be glad—when our foes hit us, you will each have more to kill!"

Another cheer goes up, and after sending a runeknight in light armor off to try and catch the humans, I direct the captains and guildmasters to march.

In my head I have a memory of the map of positions, but everything is shifting so much that it's of no more use. I try my best to visualize where everyone should go, order appropriately, and feel that I am failing. Guilds mill about in abject confusion. But one of the golden automatons simplifies things for us:

"Runethane Zathar! A gap has opened to the left of Duthur's forces, who are marching out to meet the foe too quickly. Your troops will seal it."

I gather the captains and tell them.

"This is mad," Lekudr says. "I cannot believe it. Runethane Duthur is disobeying?"

"Not directly, surely," says Ithis. "His thinking may be that as long as he's engaged with the foe, the dragons won't burn his troops."

"It doesn't matter what he's thinking," I say. "We need to move out. Get your companies and guilds organized. March! Triple-time!"

Before too long, we are rushing through chaos. When I went to meet the humans less than an hour ago, the land was a forest of gleaming armor, yet that forest is now rent apart. Some spaces have been deserted entirely, while in other positions runeknights are huddled together, shields held facing the sky. Many are in styles of armor I don't recognize. Dozens of different armies have been jumbled together.

It is a disaster of discipline.

I spot the gap we are to fill. It is not so wide as I would have liked—we won't all be able to fit, not spaced how the Runeking has ordered. I have Captains Lekudr, Rtayor and Uthir, as well as a few guilds including Huirah's, guard the rear. The rest march forward behind me.

Then I see them clearly—the enemy. They've discarded their black coverings and are charging wantonly, a flood of metal and war-screams. I can nearly make out individuals, and see that they favor maces and axes over swords. The ground is shuddering slightly. The very grass is shivering.

Roars shake the air above. I look up.

Against the blue are two cut-out shapes, snakelike with wide wings. They circle around each other, and though they look small so high up, I can still tell their size. They are not as big as the black dragon was—but put together they nearly equal it.

Slowly they begin a spiraling descent.

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