It is a terrible thing to be helpless, when for so long I've held such power. At my command, dwarves have lived or died. By my weapons many a troll has fallen, and my armor has thrown away too many deadly strokes to count. Power is what a Runethane holds; he is the most powerful in the caves he rules.

So to watch the two dragons spiraling down, flame flashing in their mouths like sparks growing ever-brighter, is a shock to me. I can do nothing to them from here on the ground. If only I had a hook like Xomhyrk wielded. Its mechanisms are still a mystery, yet I maybe I'd have been able to work them out, had I known what we were to face.

To control a dragon—who could wield such power? Thanerzak merely imprisoned his conquests, but these ones above are engines of war, surely ridden by the Twin Runekings.

They part, fly wide, then come in to swoop, one from the left and the other from the right. Their coloration becomes clear—the left-hand one is scarlet and the right-hand one yellow. They are lighter in build than the black dragon was, with tails like long whips, and are perhaps faster in flight.

"Those with shields, raise them!" I order.

I don't think the dragons are coming for us, though. They seem to be aiming for the center of our army, around the Shaft where most of our supplies are gathered. I guess that our troops are most closely packed there. Hemmed in by chaos on all side, it is likely that many could not spread out, even if willing to.

The dragons wait until they're right over our lines before unleashing. Bright flames overpower even the sun for a second. Heat and screams are borne on a great gust of wind that nearly throws us over. Shouts of terror go up.

"Remain calm!" I order.

The dragons circle back up—then jagged white, flickering fingers shoot up at the scarlet one. Scales and flame burst from its belly and legs. It screams. The wizards have made their first blow, yet it's far from fatal. The scarlet dragon vanishes back up into the sky, into which white and gray clouds are gathering.

Spots of rain begin to fall. A great storm is being brewed.

"My Runethane, they're nearly here!" a second-degree tells me.

I turn back toward our dwarvish foes. I can see their faces through the rain. The mouth of every one of them is open and screaming. Wrapped in chains, with skin showing through, they are a bizarre sight. And they are fast—far faster than I expected. Chains weigh less than plate, and of course their runes enchant their bodies directly.

"Ready weapons!" I command.

Steel and titanium gleam. Steelpierce shivers, excited for blood. Graveknife at my hip grows colder; my ruby heats up. More clouds swirl overhead, dark gray and purplish-black. The rain intensifies until it is no longer coming in drops but great sheets driven by furious downward wind. I take my runic ears from my pack, equip them quickly, and curse. The howling wind renders everything a mess; I put them away. Sight will have to do.

Our foes accelerate. They are crazed for blood—I can see it in their eyes. So we will meet them in kind.

"Charge!" I scream. "Slay them!"

I push off the soft ground and sprint. Mud flies up around me. I aim Steelpierce at the dwarf directly in front, a brute wearing three times as many chains as most, with especially thick ones coiled around his upper arms and shoulders. Lightning flashes, revealing them to be golden and studded with many diamonds. Might he be a Runethane? I cannot tell.

"Die!" he yells, raising his hammer.

I stab and Steelpierce lances through his right shoulder. He laughs and screams at the same time and strikes down heavily regardless. Shock runs through my shoulder as my War Armor struggles to resist the blow. He is not a Runethane, I do not think, but is certainly at least a second-degree. I punch him in his chain-adorned face and he grunts. Blood spurts from his mouth and runs from his temple, yet he seems to feel no pain and goes to strike again.

Steelpierce remains stuck in him; I try to yank it out and receive a blow for my trouble. My helmet rings but my head is unshaken. Another foe, wielding a two-handed axe, swings at my side. It is a crude-looking weapon, and I catch it. I grip, and the power in my gauntlet shatters it.

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That dwarf backs away in shock and is cut down. My original opponent strikes with his hammer again. I take the blow and step back, ripping out Steelpierce as I go. I quickly stab again, through his neck this time—he can't quite dodge.

A spear-blade through the neck should kill anyone, yet my foe remains standing, even with blood fountaining out. He strikes squarely and I am pushed back, force echoing in my chest. I yell and strike again, even as the blood from his neck ceases its eruption and a new vigor takes hold in him.

Steelpierce goes right into his chest. He advances, pushing it through him, and swings in once more with great force. His hammer batters my pauldron and pain shoots through my shoulder.

We're right up close. We stare into each other's eyes—his gaze is of hate and lust for blood, and mine is much the same. Around us, dwarves slash and scream and kill. Lightning flashes, again and again, and fiery heat blasts through the rain. The mud under us is turning red. The stench of death and metal is strong in the air.

I headbutt him. Beads of blood appear from underneath the chains wrapped around his face. He is stunned and I pull Steelpierce out. I aim at his eye this time, but another foe throws himself at me, slashing down with twin axes. I pierce him through the heart. He falls, but does not die, then one of the Runic League separates his head from his shoulders.

My first opponent closes in again. He seems unharmed—a spear is a poor weapon against these foes. Severing limbs and heads is the best technique here, and Steelpierce can do neither.

We exchange more blows. I get his limbs, and he seems to be weakening. At last I manage to bring him down with a strike into his forehead, and immediately two more opponents fall upon me.

Steelpierce sticks in one and is immobilized. Rain flooding into my visor blinds me for a moment, and the other smashes me with an axe. I grunt; the blow is a heavy one.

Graveknife shivers at my side. It wants to be drawn, needs to be drawn. My ruby burns. It is eager to witness the death-runes' power. I refuse to give in just yet, and wrench Steelpierce out. Two of the Runic League charge past me to attack the pair, and they slay one, but the other strikes back.

"No!" I shout, as my dwarf falls down, his helmet mangled.

I stab and once more Steelpierce sticks in to little effect. My foe smashes my right hand and I'm forced to let go. Another two enemies join the fray, and their chains are bejeweled masterfully. A burst of nearby dragonfire makes their rubies flash. Whoever commands here can tell I'm a Runethane—the toughest warriors are converging on me from several directions.

I yank Steelpierce out, defend by spinning it wildly and jabbing at eyes. But I deal out no lethal wounds. Blow after blow smashes my War Armor. Bruises ache and sparks fly.

"To the Runethane!" someone yells, from our side.

My dwarves gather to me. Several fall, too quickly. The offensive power of our foes is unmatched, though severing strikes fell a few in return.

I stab at a brutish dwarf all in silver and turquoise, around whom runic strength is shimmering. He dodges and Steelpierce only glances his cheek. He grins at me. In one hand he wields a flail, and with it he smashes one of the Runic League into the mud. In his other hand he holds a knife composed of a single diamond tooth, glittering with red runes.

"Behold me and despair, dwarves of Allabrast!" he screams. "I am Runethane Bleeding-Edge, and I have slain white dragons and worms a mile long! Surrender to us, and give up your treasures, and we may yet show you mercy!"

"Behold me, fellow Runethane!" I shout back. "I am Zathar, Runeforger and Dragonslayer! We will not surrender—begone from here!"

He laughs. "You are a liar!"

We charge for each other. Both my dwarves and his stay back. No one wants to get between two Runethanes. The melee grows brutal around us, but I have no time to watch it. My entire focus must be on our duel.

His flail whirs toward my head, turning raindrops to mist. I stab his hand and his blow glances my visor. Many sparks fly, shaped like blades, true metal killing its own. I pull out Steelpierce and no blood comes.

He whips his flail at me again. I use my forearm to block the blow, and feel my arm weaken for a second. I stab one-handed at his chin. I pierce under his jaw and he is driven back, yet I didn't get in nearly deep enough. His flail comes for me again, tracing a steel blur, and it hits my upper left arm, denting the plate.

I slip and fall in the crimson mud. Lightning flashes, illuminating him above me, bearing down with his diamond dagger in a reverse grip. I can't get Steelpierce up in time and have no choice but to drop it.

I grab his forearm with both hands. He straddles me and drives down with all his weight and strength. His red-runed blade inches toward my throat, toward the gap between helmet and breastplate. The mail there will be no protection.

I scream and push up. My War Armor proves equal to his chains of might, and our battle freezes. Rain lashes us. Fire flares in the distance, turning his silver chains molten-color. He yells and pushes harder. I resist, and keep resisting, and then fatigue begins to creep into my arms. His knife grows closer. Out the corner of my eye, I see Brognir charge for me, but he is blocked and set upon by several first or second degrees.

There is only one chance for me, here at the edge of death. I let go with my left hand. My foe's knife comes down fast, but not fast enough; Graveknife is suddenly in my left hand and I stab into his side, deeply.

He gasps in shock. Strength leaves him and he sags; I wrestle him off. A hammer smacks me in the face and I am sent rolling back. I stand to fight its wielder, who suddenly has a leg cut from him, and once more our duel is just of two.

Runethane Bleeding-Edge manages to get back up. His face is a rictus of pain.

With Graveknife in my right hand now, Steelpierce abandoned in the mud somewhere, I leap for him.

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