“Many of you are no doubtless wondering what idea of the human's I was referencing,” says the Runethane. “Though a few of you have maybe guessed already. Well, I best say it to you simply: you are going down the Shaft.”

Grim silence meets this proclamation. Deep down we’ve all been expecting it.

“I see that you’ve all been expecting this. Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from these past terrible events, it’s that rumor spreads quickly around my fort. So I am not shocked.” He pauses briefly. “According to my commanders, you are not terribly thrilled by this idea. I can understand why, and I do not judge you cowards for your reluctance.”

He doesn’t, does he? How kind of him. My weapon is shivering as my hands shake in rage.

“The Shaft was one of the worst mistakes ever made by dwarfkind. We dug too deep and many paid the price: a price we are still paying, a steady trickle of lives spent in defense of those unappreciative realms above, the ultimate sacrifice that all of us down here will eventually make.”

A sacrifice he’s putting off making himself, staying here behind his runed doors, in his artificial darkness, while he has others die at his command.

“I have often wondered how many lives the deep darkness will consume. The fort will, we all hope, exist forever. It thus follows that an infinite amount of lives will be consumed. This, I have come to believe, is unsustainable. The human had many theories about the deep darkness, and the killings he now admits were perpetrated by it, but I have a theory of my own also.”

Let’s hear it then, you bastard.

“With every life the deep darkness takes away, it grows stronger. The incursions had been becoming more frequent even before its disturbing transformation. It is devouring us.”

I glance around. Everyone is silent and showing no emotion. We’re too afraid to speak up against the unfolding disaster in case we meet the same fate as Jaemes—although the talk of years was meaningless to the other dwarves, I’m sure they can imagine how being locked in a barren chamber until even their amulets of unaging cease to function would be a most awful fate.

“So we must stop the darkness," the Runethane continues. "Sealing it would seem the most obvious choice, but that is beyond our capabilities. Those in the realms above could accomplish the task, if they ceased their squabbling, and I have petitioned Runeking Ulrike to get it done, but he refuses. A tunnel would have to be mined from the Shaft to the magma ocean, which would apparently be too huge an undertaking. Not worth the cost in lives and resources, since there are no precious metals to be had in the stone around here.” The Runethane makes a disgusted expression. “Well, he is our ruler, and so I will not criticize him. He has many troubles to deal with, and we are distant. He would understand the danger if he was to visit us, or even simply send one of his famed Eyes—but again, he has troubles closer by to deal with. Thus, stopping the darkness falls to us.”

The Runethane raises his great mace high above his head. Its glow becomes blinding, as bright as my own mace at its zenith.

“But now we will not just stop it, but eliminate it! We have as many forces as we can gather. We are equipped as well as we’ll ever be equipped. Now we will bring down the hammer!”

He swings his mace down. As it travels, it brightens—it becomes brighter even than Galar’s trident, a blur of corporeal light. The illumination is so shocking, so beyond what I’ve ever experienced, that I spin around and stumble backwards, arm over my eyes—a reflexive movement like snatching my hand away from hot metal. Every dwarf in the hall, apart from maybe those senior runeknights who are used to such spectacles of brilliance, does the same. Cries of shock fill the hall.

There is a clang like that of a massive bell; the great mace has just impacted the ground. The light is so terrible that for a moment I can see my titanium armor illuminated in a dark shade of blue through my eyelids even though I’m facing away from the Runethane.

“We will descend into the Shaft and obliterate the deep darkness at its source!” he cries. “Whatever that may be!”

The sound of the clang dies away. We begin to pick ourselves up from the stone floor and turn back toward him. I open my eyes for a fraction of a second, just to check I'm not blind; his expression is manic. There's no stopping him. He's decided that we're to go down the Shaft to our deaths, and so down there we will go.

“We?” someone shouts—from two ranks ahead of me. I recognize the helmet: it’s Belthur.

“What?” says the Runethane, his crazed grin weakening slightly. “What do you mean? Who just said that?”

“What do you mean by we? Earlier you said you, and now it has changed to we.”

My mouth opens in surprise. Did Belthur not register what just happened to Jaemes? I hold my breath for the Runethane’s reaction.

“What are you on about?” the Runethane snaps.

“Are you going to lead us yourself, or are you going to send us on your behalf?”

“I am your Runethane. My role is to make sure the fort stays running. Thus I will not be putting my life at risk. Think about it logically, Belthur.”

There is a small commotion as Belthur pushes through the short row of second degrees to the front, to stand right before the steps up to the throne.

“What is the meaning of this?” snaps the Runethane. “Get back in line.”

“Many of us are not happy with some of the decisions you have been making recently.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I draw breath in shock; I hear every other dwarf do the same.

“I am aware,” says the Runethane. “Once I am long gone, maybe you will get the chance to ascend to my position, and you will understand that it is impossible to please everyone.”

“You are pleasing nearly no one.”

“I do not make decisions to please you. I make them for the good of the fort.”

“And what good have your decisions done, my Runethane? I would very much like to know. We would all very much like to know.”

“You are upset by the losses.” All trace of the manic grin from earlier has gone from the Runethane’s face. He is solemn now. “I am also upset by them. I do not take my decisions lightly, Belthur.”

“We are not concerned with how seriously or lightly you take them. We are concerned by the destruction and harm they’ve led to. Thirty dead in the hunt of the white jelly. Many maimed permanently through forging a material they were nowhere near ready to even touch.”

“Hearing is enough for us. You make too large a deal of blindness.”

“Blindness and burns also! Deep ones, to the hands. Disabling ones.”

“Injury and death comes for all runeknights. Sacrifices must be made in the pursuit of victory. In this coming expedition there will be death also. Trust me, Belthur. Though I put on a show of glorious enthusiasm for you all just now, it is with a heavy heart that I send you down.”

“Sacrifices! You’ve spoken of them often today. Yet you are unwilling to make them for yourself.”

The Runethane’s eyes narrow. “I have put myself in harm’s way on many occasions. We’ve fought side-by-side against the darkness before, Belthur. Do you not remember?”

“I remember fighting beside some great warrior, yes. It wasn’t you though. That dwarf did not hide behind runed doors, swathed in a blanket of artificial darkness—a superstitious charm!”

“I am now Runethane!” Runethane Yurok booms. “To risk my life is to risk the very fort!”

“Your predecessor had no such qualms!”

“And he is gone, his knowledge and guidance forever extinguished!”

“If you were to die, another would take your place also!”

“That is no excuse for me to throw my life away!”

“If you are to come on this expedition you will not be throwing anything away. You will be ensuring our success.”

“I cannot,” the Runethane says simply.

Belthur folds his arms. “Do not make me insult you, my Runethane.”

There is a metallic creak as the Runethane’s fingers tense around the handle of his mace. “Do not dare insult me!” he hisses.

Coward, I think. Tell him it to his face, Belthur. Coward! I want to scream the word out!

“Coward!” someone from the ranks behind me shouts. “Coward!”

I turn in shock to see who it is, and the moment I do so, someone else screams out the same:

“Coward!”

Another dwarf: “Coward!”

Another: “Coward!”

“Coward!”

“Coward!”

“Coward!”

“Silence!” screams the Runethane. “Who dares speak of me this way?”

“Your own runeknights do!” Belthur yells at him. “This pains me just as much as it pains you, my Runethane, but do you see how so many think of you now? We need our Runethane with us, not in his hall! You should share in our danger: not send us toward it alone!”

“I will not stand for this!”

“You must lead us!” cries Belthur. “You must lead us, or you are not fit to command us!” He turns from the Runethane to look across our ranks. “Do you not agree, my comrades?”

A few dwarves nod, then more join in. I almost nod myself, but stop; there’s no guarantee that this gamble of Belthur's will succeed. Yes, this is his gamble: he wants this madness stopped and this is the plan he’s come up with to stop it.

It seems like his group of four supporters has expanded far. Behind the Runethane’s back, has he been preparing rebellion? He turns back to the Runethane:

“Well? Will you lead us?”

“You have no right to make such demands of me!”

“I alone do not; we together do! Why won’t you lead us, Runethane? Are you scared to do what you order us to do ourselves?”

The Runethane collapses backward onto his throne. The light of his mace reflects brightly on the drops of cold sweat coating his forehead.

“Well?” demands Belthur.

No answer.

“Then that settles it. I refuse to go down the Shaft. Nor will I take any more other—”

The Runethane holds up his hand. “Wait,” he says. His voice is hoarse. “Wait.”

Belthur waits. I watch the Runethane’s eyes. Behind them I can sense fear roiling. His cowardice has overwhelmed him. Some hope dawns in me—if the fort will no longer obey his commands, maybe that means Jaemes’ sentence is rescinded—

“Yes,” says the Runethane, very quietly.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” The Runethane stands back up. His voice has become firm and calm: the voice of a leader. The change is shocking to me. “Yes, I accept your request.”

“You do?” Belthur sounds puzzled.

“I do.” He claps Belthur on the shoulder and gives him a shake—but by no means a violent one. It’s a fatherly gesture.

“You mean you will call off the expedition?”

He shakes his head. “No, no. I will lead it like you ask.”

“You will?”

“I will!” The Runethane laughs. “How many times do I need to tell you? I will lead the expedition.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am very sure. Thank you for this wake-up call, Belthur. You need not fear any punishment for your strong words. Neither will anyone else.” He scans the hall. “The stress of losing so many to the altered foe had placed a terrible strain on me. I forgot my duty—of course I should share in the danger.”

“You will?” says Belthur.

He sounds completely stunned: this turn of events did not factor into his calculations. Either his rebellion would succeed, he must have thought, or it would’ve been crushed, and him killed.

Never did he imagine that the Runethane would have a change of heart. My own heart sinks: this means Jaemes’ sentence still stands.

“I will,” says the Runethane. “We will go down the Shaft together, every single one of us, on our final gamble against the rising tide of darkness—we will banish it now, before it grows too strong, or we will succumb.”

“We... We should prepare further,” says Belthur. A note of panic has crept into his voice. “We need more runeknights. The weapons of light must be reforged, made as best as they can be.”

“No,” the Runethane says firmly. He gives Belthur another fatherly pat on the shoulder. “Time is running out—I have enough of an understanding of the concept to be able to know this. The deep darkness grows stronger with every life it takes. We strike now.”

“But...”

“No buts. As soon as the crafts I judged inferior have been reforged, and the dictionary of new runes completed, we go down: with me in the lead.”