For the first time, I enter the chamber that holds the Shaft. It’s a circular array of steps, similar to how the seating of Thanerzak’s arena was arranged, all leading down to the Shaft, and its size takes my breath away: it’s so cavernous that the echos of our armored boots can barely be heard—or maybe this is not a phenomenon caused by the size of the chamber, but instead by what lies in its center.

The Shaft sounds to be at least a hundred feet across. I’d never imagined it to be this gigantic. How many miners had to be worked to death to build it? Yet its size is not what stands out most about it. What makes it more terrifying than any other mineshaft, cave, or chasm I’ve stood in front of before, is what I sense from it.

My eyes are shut tight from the brightness of our maces, yet I can still sense the darkness: it’s an absence of heat, sound—all traces of energy. Yet the Shaft is ringed with an elite guard of runeknights, and none are fighting, so this presence cannot be the true deep darkness. This feeling that assails me is just from its shadow—if darkness can have its own shadow.

Cathez leads us to the perimeter guard around the Shaft, then holds up his hand to halt us. I listen around the ring of dwarves, trying to spot Nthazes. He’s at the back, opposite from us—I can tell its him by the shape of his mace, though its shape is faint past the cold silence emanating from the dark pit between us.

Already at the pit, closest to us, is the Runethane. He is flanked by his chamberlain on the right side and his other elite guard, the first degree we rarely see, on his left. His mace is bright enough that I can see its glow even through my tight-shut eyelids.

“We are ready,” Cathez says.

“Good. The advance guard has already descended, so now it is our turn.” He gestures up at a mass of machinery hanging from the roof.

A grating noise shivers through the chamber. From the machinery, a wide platform is descending toward the Shaft. It’s hexagonal in shape, and thick cables attached to each corner twist together at the top to form a massive trunk of a cable that’s at least as thick as I am tall. I open my eyes a fraction, for just a moment, to make sure the purple rust that was on it has been cleaned off thoroughly. I’m glad to see that it has, though the complexity of the cogs and levers at the top of the cavern do not give me much confidence. The more parts a machine has, after all, the more ways there are for it to break down.

A clank heralds the platform’s arrival at the top of the Shaft. A single runeknight on it presses a button on the central control mechanism, and a rectangular section of metal unfolds up and clangs down onto the stone behind the Runethane to form a bridge.

“As your Runethane, it is my duty to lead this expedition, and thus I will step on first,” he says. “Look upon me and have courage. We will win, have no doubt.”

He walks across the bridge onto the platform with only the briefest hesitation. The platform wobbles slightly as he sets foot on it, and my stomach twists. Is this thing really safe enough for me to entrust my life to it? The Runethane’s guard follows him on, but the chamberlain stays back.

“Lead them on, commander,” orders the Runethane, and Cathez turns to us.

“Squads one and two, on with me. Three and four to follow. Step carefully on the bridge.”

He walks across the bridge. It bends slightly under his weight. As a show of solidarity, he has a double-pack of rations strapped to his back just like we do. When he gets to the platform it wobbles some more, alarming me. I’m starting to think that it won’t be able to take on the weight of over eighty of us at a time.

Squad one follows him across, then squad two. They position themselves on one side of the platform, making it tip a good ten or so degrees. Now for squad three—my squad. We make our way down the steps to the bridge. I’m being very careful, concentrating fully on my balance. The weight of my pack is destabilizing and I don’t want to tumble down the stairs and into the Shaft.

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Though, maybe being smashed to pieces on the stone below would be a more merciful death than being consumed by the deep darkness.

One by one the dwarves of my squad cross the bridge. Now it’s my turn: I set foot on the metal and step forward. I can feel it bend with my weight, but at least it’s solid metal with ridges there that help my boots grip. When I get on to the platform proper, I have the frightening realization that it’s little more than a mesh of hexagonal steel rings, with only simple runes upon them. The surface is flat too, so that those dwarves without runes to assist with gripping on their boots have to clutch the shoulders of their comrades to avoid falling over.

I’m glad I enruned the soles of my titanium boots the way I did, or I’d be feeling even more sick than I am already.

Squad four comes on next, which evens out the weight on the platform so that the whole thing is no longer tipping backwards. But my relief is short-lived. The senior runeknight by the controls presses a button to fold up the bridge, then immediately clicks the switch to start the descent. The cogs at the top of the winch begin to whirr, some levers change positions, and slowly the cable begins to unwind. The sheer stone walls of the Shaft rise up like black water subsuming us, and we are traveling into the cold and darkness.

I feel all sound go quieter around me, as if everything is muffled by thick, soft fabric. I open my eyes a fraction and though it is still blindingly bright, it’s not quite enough to hurt my eyes, at least for a couple seconds. Chill seeps through the joints of my armor. It’s a similar feeling to how the Runethane’s artificial darkness chilled his hall, yet there’s a kind of malice here that the smoke didn't have. It’s like the gaze of a predator—it promises death.

The deep darkness knows we are coming for it. I’m sure of this.

Down and down we go. The platform is vibrating slightly, as if even the metal fears what it’s heading towards so much that it cannot help but shiver. I look up, blink open my eyes, and see that the entrance to the Shaft still appears wide. The mechanism bringing us down is working slowly. I suppose this is better than it dropping us too fast, yet I feel an urge to do something, stride toward something, raise my mace for some kind of action. Waiting here I feel vulnerable, especially considering the way the floor is constructed. I feel as if the darkness might come flooding up through the gaps at any moment, wiping us out in one fell and cold attack.

But there is nothing we can do but wait. No one talks; the only sound is that of the platform’s tremoring. I count the seconds as they slowly pass, and angle my head back to blink open my eyes occasionally. The circle of light that is the top of the Shaft gradually recedes. After an hour of fearful waiting, it looks about as large as the mirrors that let the sun into Thanerzak and Broderick’s city looked. After another hour, it's but a dot.

Then, abruptly, the platform jolts to a halt. Everyone stumbles and it takes a second for us to regain our balance. For a few moments there is silence.

“Well?” says the Runethane, in an unusually cheery tone. “What are we waiting for? March out, follow my lead!”

He jostles through the ranks and steps off the platform. His boots make a slight crunching sound, as if the floor is covered in sand. His elite guardsdwarf follows him close behind, and then Cathez steps off also.

“Squads, advance in turn,” he commands. “The advance guard is in position a few hundred feet distant. We’ll join them there. Now, we move.”

Rank by rank we march off the platform and into the tunnel. Sand crunches under my boots too—the floor is covered by a thick layer of it. At least, I hope it’s sand. I blink open my eyes to confirm, but the brilliance of our maces forces me to close them immediately—the walls here are vaguely reflective, whiting out all vision.

I listen closely, trying to work out how long this tunnel is and how it’s shaped, but can only detect my immediate surroundings, because only fifty feet ahead of me is the silence of stilled air. It feels as if I’m walking toward a blank, black wall.

For all I can tell the advance guard has already been wiped out, and we’re about to meet our doom.

Then, something breaks the wall. A current of air is revealed, with a shout on it like a ghost in the wind, and then it cuts off dead. A shudder runs through our ranks—some dwarves halt in terror, and others push into them.

“The darkness!” someone shouts.

“Already?” comes a wail of despair.

“Silence!” yells Cathez to quell the confusion. “Halt!”

Our army grinds to a halt. I listen breathlessly, but no further gap in the curtain of darkness and silence ahead opens.

“They’re fighting,” someone says, very matter-of-factly. “That’s what that was.”

“Yes,” says the Runethane from the head of the column. “I believe you are correct. This means there is only one thing for us to do.”

Oh. I think I know what he’s going to say next.

“Charge!”