I awaken to darkness and heat. My skin feels as if it is still burning; my ruby is giving me only slight relief. I blink, to check if my eyes are open or closed, and the movement brings pain. Fear too—my eyes are open yet I only see black.

I struggle to remember what happened—I think I was creating runes when my power became too great for me. I couldn't hold it, and it started to tear my soul apart. I remember feeling flames on my skin, and then cold water. There were healing chains thrown over me at some point too. Vanerak was there, leaning over me.

Did I equip my runic ears while in my trance? Is that why I've lost my sight? Fear sinks into me. I am blind.

It might not be permanent. Likely I am being kept where I lie for examination. Vanerak does not want me to lose my forging ability. He will have my eyes healed, surely.

Yet the stone beneath me is rough, and I can feel my forging leathers on my skin. They stink of sweat and metal. If I'd been taken to a chamber for healing, surely my clothes would have been taken from me so my injuries could be examined. That doesn't seem to have happened. And I would be on a bed, not a stone slab.

Slowly and carefully I attempt to sit up. Lines of friction burn across my chest and legs, wrists and ankles. I am bound to the stone by chains. I cry out in shock.

Vanerak has imprisoned me. I curse and struggle. I see sparks fly from my manacles as I beat them against the stone—I am not blind after all, it's just that this is a dungeon and dungeons are kept unlit.

“Let me out!” I shout in panic. “Let me out!”

But there is no one to rescue me down here. My Guildmaster is far away, and does not know where I am. Nor do my friends in the fortress, and they are not powerful enough to oppose Vanerak anyway. Neither is Wharoth strong enough, for that matter, not with all the guild behind him. And Runeking Ulrike likely does not know where I am either and even if he did would barely care.

I am totally alone and totally helpless.

“Help!” I scream into the silence anyway. “Help me!”

The only answer is my echoes. Shit, what have I even done? What did I say to Vanerak? He asked me questions, I'm sure of it. Did I mention the sphere? Have I been caught out on that lie?

No—I'm sure I said nothing of the sphere. That secret is locked away tight. So what, then? What did I say?

I lie here in the blackness, yet my memory of my last runeforging is just shreds of light and pain. He asked me about my power. I'm sure of that, yet what did I reply to him? As long as I didn't mention the sphere, there should have been nothing that gave away my lies.

Eventually, exhaustion and pain from the chains chafing against my raw skin pull me back down into sleep. I dream of fire, magma, and demons shimmering through the air.

----------------------------------------

Once again, Guthah cannot touch his food, for his stomach is filled to the brim with nausea. His mouth is dry. The noise and light of the hall seems to be swirling around him, like he's trapped in a whirlpool, being dragged down against his will to the deeps of despair.

“Are you feeling it again?” asks Pellas, laying her hand on his.

“Yes,” he whispers. There is no point denying it.

“It's nothing. Both times before it's been nothing.” She squeezes her hand. “You're just tired. A good sleep and it will pass.”

A noise cuts through the bustle behind them. It's brisk footsteps. Pellas looks up in surprise. A small groan escapes Guthah's lips—he can tell who it is.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Runeknight Pellas,” rasps Helzar. “You are to come with me.”

“What for, honored runeknight?”

“You will find out soon.”

“No!” shouts Guthah.

He stands up and turns to face the first degree. Her black glare nearly cows him, but he forces himself to speak:

“I will go!” he says. His fists are trembling. “Whatever task you wish her to do, I will take it on.”

Helzar's burned lips curl cruelly.

“But it has been decided that this task is for her,” she says.

----------------------------------------

When I wake for the second time, I am staring into my own face. The light illuminating me is only dim, but I can still tell the red rawness of my skin, and I can also make out dark bruised circles around my eyes.

“You have enraged me, Zathar Runeforger,” says Vanerak.

“Why?” I shout in panic. “I've done nothing, my Runethane! Nothing!”

“You have lied to me.”

“Never! I would never lie to you!”

“You did lie to me. You said you remembered nothing of the forging of the runes for your ears. Yet when I asked you a second time as you lay burning on the floor of the forge, you admitted that you do remember. You felt power running through you, burning you. You said it was like a spear.”

“I don't remember anything!”

“There is no further use in lying to me, Zathar Runeforger. You will only increase the severity of your punishment.”

“I never lied!” I beg. “Please believe me! Please let me go! I made the runes for you, didn't I? I've only ever done as you asked!”

“No. I asked that you tell me of your powers, so that we may unlock their mysteries together, and in doing so improve the lives of all dwarfkind. Yet you have not told me of your powers. You have kept many things hidden from me.”

“Never, my Runethane! I haven't hidden anything!”

“You have been telling me lies every time I questioned you. It is easy to tell one lie and be believed, but to tell a story of lies is much more difficult. Each time I have asked of what you knew of your powers, of what you have experienced while runeforging, you have told me something slightly different.”

He gestures to Nazak and Halax, who are standing behind him. They unlock my manacles and drag me from the stone slab. I shout as pain reverberates through my burned skin and half-cooked flesh. They pull me up with irresistible runic strength and push me against the wall, and hold me there by my upper arms.

“For example,” Vanerak continues, “sometimes you told me you sank through the stone, and other times you described magma coming up around you. Sometimes you said you were in the depths of the magma sea, and other times said that you didn't know where you were. On occasion you spoke as if something was giving you the power, and other times you implied that it rose from below.”

“Each time you have questioned me, I have been half-delirious!”

“That is exactly the point. It is difficult to keep a web of lies intact while your mind is overheated and your body weakened by fumes. If you had been telling the whole truth, you would have said it the same each time. It would have been an anchor amid the pain. Instead the pain befuddled you and broke your concentration. Your greatest error was to say that you created the runes of light on your shield while in your trance; then later you said that the creation of the runes for your ears while in a trance was the first time such had happened.”

“The trial was a long time ago! I didn't recall perfectly, that's all!”

“You would have recalled such an important moment without such a grievous error.”

“It was a simple mistake!”

“Yet it was one of many. Your stories have had too many contradictions. You have created a fiction to tell me, and behind it is a great truth you refuse to reveal. More than one truth, I think.”

“I am not hiding anything!”

He steps aside, revealing the doorway. Through it marches first degree Helzar wielding her barbed spear. After her come two pairs of guards, each holding a struggling figure between them.

“No!” one of the captives shouts. It's one of the dragonslayers. “I've done nothing! Nothing! And he's no friend of mine!”

The other captive is Pellas. She stays silent, but looks at me with terror in her eyes and I suddenly feel sick.

“Hold them still,” Vanerak orders.

The guards grip their arms tighter. Both are in armor, but their guards are of at least fourth degree. Pellas' and the dragonslayer's steel plates bend in their tungsten grips.

“They've done nothing!” I shout. “Let them go! Please!”

“They have indeed done nothing,” says Vanerak. “It is most unjust that they be punished for your crimes.”

“Then please let them go, my Runethane,” I beg.

“Whether they are let free or suffer terribly is up to you, Zathar Runeforger. Do you understand this?”

“Please, my Runethane—”

“Tell me what you have been hiding from me.”

If Vanerak learns of the sphere, if he can somehow gain access to its power, then he will become more powerful than a Runeking. A hundred realms will suffer under his cruelty, millions of dwarves instead of mere thousands. He cannot come to know. He cannot come to know any more!

“I have been hiding nothing!” I say.

“You think that I am bluffing,” says Vanerak. “I will show you I am not. I can kill with a gesture.”

He gestures to the dragonslayer. A moment later, Helzar thrusts her barbed spear through his heart. He screams in agony—for a half a second, then he falls limp. The guards holding him let him collapse to the stone. Blood runs out from beneath his chest.

Pellas whimpers. Her eyes glisten. Helzar smiles at her.

“I will ask again, Zathar Runeforger,” says Vanerak. “What are you hiding from me?”