I spiral down into the castle, shoving past anyone injured or more tired than me, which is most of them. I get a few angry swears, some jabs, but no one grudges me too badly—we’re all racing here. A dwarf will do almost anything for gold, or materials that will improve his kit and put him one step further up the ladder. I’m not surprised when I nearly trip over the first concussed victim of this mad drive downward.

The tunnel expands suddenly into a great vaulted hall. The tiles beneath my feet change from slate gray to stripes of jade, silvery ore, and polished quartz and marble. I can almost make out the mosaic they form, of dragons fleeing in terror from tungsten-clad dwarves—though the picture is so covered with trampling metal boots that I’m forced to mostly imagine the centerpiece of the picture, Runethane Thanerzak locked in mortal combat with the greatest of the old dragons.

Arching pillars form the entrances to the various forges that Thanerzak’s elites use—or at least used to use—to create their tungsten armor and various deadly weapons. I rush into the grandest, guessing it’s the Runethane’s and thus the most likely to hold the key.

“Damn,” Yezakh says. “Looks like they’ve already cleared this place out.”

Indeed, the first few dwarves must have gone straight for this room as well. The center anvil has been overturned and a chest that must have been hidden beneath it lies smashed on the tiles. The locked and barred cabinets have been hacked open—a few small gemstones lay scattered in front of them. The armor stands are conspicuously missing all armor, and the hooks on the walls for hanging weapons now hang only air. No one else is here either.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath, then hurry to the overturned anvil. I dig through the broken stone beneath where the hidden chest used to sit, but there’s no second secret container, or indeed anything at all.

Where else to search apart from the Runethane’s forge, then? His personal chambers? Where in hell are they?

“What are you doing?” Yezakh calls. “There’ll be more to find in the other rooms.”

I hurry after him. Hayhek nudges me, and looks at me suspiciously.

“You seem like you’re searching for something in particular.”

“What’s it to you?”

“I should be up there protecting my family."

"They're far from the battle. They'll be fine for now."

"You don't know that. And your gold is just an excuse, isn't it?"

"I said it'll be fine!" I hiss, and hurry back to the main hall.

Dwarves are pouring in and out of the pillared arches: in with greedy smiles and empty hands, out groaning under the weight of gleaming metal and boxes of gemstones. The higher degree runeknights take weapons and armor—not to use, for it is a sin to use another's work as your own, but as spoils for display.

I run down the hall, looking left and right for the shine of diamond. There’s plenty of course, some the size of my fist even, but none as long as my arm, nor in the shape of a key. Briefly I consider asking someone if they’ve seen it, but that might lead to awkward questions back about why I’m looking for something so odd, and why I’m not wearing an armband.

I at least manage to remedy that last problem. I spot a dwarf whose band is so tattered it looks like it could fall in half any moment, and scrape against him as he’s coming out of one of the high doorways. His armband snaps and falls away just as planned, and after a quick apology for the collision, I’m surreptitiously picking it up then tying it around my own arm.

This should put me above all suspicion.

But the solution to my most important problem is still nowhere in sight.

If the forges are stripped bare, I’ll have to go somewhere else. I make my way out of the forge hall, beckoning Yezakh and Hayhek to follow me.

“Where are we going?” Yezakh asks.

“Somewhere else. All the good stuff’s gone from the forges, I think.”

“Where else would good stuff be, though?”

“No idea. Let’s just keep on going.”

The sounds of the happy looters diminish, and the floor is sloping gradually downward. This is a good sign, I think. Treasures are generally hidden further below less important things.

“What about here?” Yezakh says, gesturing to a rough hole in the corridor.

I peer down it. Looks more like an exploratory shaft than anything else, or maybe even less than that—just a natural tunnel no one could be bothered to block off. And in that case it’ll be a dead end.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Waste of time,” I say, and we bypass it.

A few minutes later a flash of white fills the corridor and heat washes over our backs like from an opened furnace. We stop and I spin around. I frown—there’s an odd smell in the air now, one I recognize, though I’m not sure from where. A kind of acrid scent that dries out my nostrils and makes my eyes water slightly.

“What the hell was that?” Hayhek says quietly.

“From the entrance back there, maybe,” says Yezakh.

I begin to walk back the way we came toward it. My hands are shaking slightly; I’m more anxious than before, for some reason I can’t pinpoint. I turn right into the thin tunnel-corridor and hear dwarves further down.

“Try it again!” one urges.

A second flash of white blinds me, and the heat is stronger—beads of sweat form on my face. I pull my visor down and continue to advance.

“Damn! What the hell is this thing?” says a second.

“Again?”

“I’m not sure. Rather not.”

“Go on!”

“You do it! I don’t want to get burned.”

A third flash of light, brighter than the first two, flares out a smashed door in the corridor’s side. The heat brings back terrible memories of dwarves burning, and a hideous black face close to my own, dripping fire from its jaws.

I step through the doorway into a small and primitive forge. Beyond a battered anvil stand two dwarves, their armor not so much better than my own iron and with weapons at their sides which look somewhat worse. They turn to look at me, and Hayhek and Yezakh who follow in close behind.

“What’s going on?” I say.

“Look at this!” one says.

The dwarf steps aside. Next to a chiseled alcove a rod of glittering diamond juts from the wall. It terminates in an ornate handle.

My mouth goes dry and my eyes widen. The already fast beating of my heart becomes a flutter so rapid I become sick and dizzy. The diamond rod shimmers as the room seems to rotate around me.

Half of me had never really believed the dragon’s promise. Now I see one part of it is real, and perhaps that means its tale of my brother is too.

I swallow to wet my dry throat. I have to play this carefully.

“You just turn it, and what happens?” I ask.

The second dwarf points to the alcove. “White fire shoots into there after a few seconds. Must be a furnace.”

“Obviously it’s a furnace, you dolt,” says the first.

“Can I try?” I ask, trying not to let my voice tremor.

The first dwarf smirks. “Maybe for some gold... Hey!”

I’ve already shoved him out the way, all thoughts of playing it safe forgotten, and my hand is reaching toward the handle. I grasp it. A shiver runs up my arm.

“You turn it to the left,” says the second dwarf.

“Don’t tell him!”

I turn it to the right. There’s a series of clicks. I pull, slowly, and inch by inch withdraw the key from its lock. The two dwarves look on in amazement as I take it fully from the wall; their eyes widen when they see how intricate the bit is: a fractal hand of rods and spikes perfectly aligned at right angles, becoming ever smaller as they branch, right down to the sub-visible scale and perhaps beyond. Tiny runes etched into the crystal glitter like ice.

“What is it?” Yezakh asks, eyes wide with awe.

“A key...” I breath.

“Expensive, that looks,” the first dwarf says softly. “What say us five sell it and split the dividends?”

“No!” I snap.

“And why not?” His right hand creeps to his sword.

I think I could take them, but Heartseeker’s length is a disadvantage in this cramped room, and also I’d really just prefer to avoid bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of it today to last a good long while.

“Orders of Runethane Broderick,” I snap, and they flinch back. “This is his key, by right of conquest.” I tilt Heartseeker forward slightly so its anti-glow shadows their faces a touch. “Unless, of course, you wish to challenge him for it.”

“We apologize!” the second dwarf says suddenly. “Of course, if it is property of the Runethane...”

“You better apologize,” Yezakh says.

Hayhek just frowns at me.

“We’ll be escorting this to him,” I say, and from a low shelf sweep up a coarse polishing rag to wrap around my treasure. “You two can get back to the main forges.”

“There’s nothing down there!” the first dwarf protests. “Why do you think we wandered all the way here? And we found it first!”

“I’ll make sure you’re both rewarded,” I say as I’m backing out the doorway. “Now get out of here!”

And just like that I’m rushing down the corridor, the shaft of the key grasped firmly in my left hand. Hayhek and Yezakh are close at my heels.

“Wait!” Hayhek demands. “You—”

I stop and turn, speak fast. “Don’t you see? We’ve lucked out! I’m sure there’s a few merchants who’ll buy this from us without too many questions. And even if they cheat us, hell, we’ll have enough gold for whatever metals we want. You can make an amulet to reverse that gray in your beard, Hayhek. And Yezakh, us two will be moving up faster than we’ve ever dreamed!”

“Why are we going downward, then?” Hayhek asks.

“Yeah,” Yezakh agrees. Even his eyes now have a glint of suspicion to them.

“Because...”

"Because what?" Hayhek says softly.

I can’t think of an excuse, and neither can I sprint off and abandon them in a mad search to get out into the caves.

“Sorry. I got caught up in the moment. If someone else sees this...”

“We have to go back now,” Hayhak says.

“You’re right. Your family, of course. We’ll head up together.” I smile behind my visor and tap Heartseeker’s blunt base firmly on the old stone tiles. “Any savages try to come rampaging into your home, I’ll help stop them.”

Hayhek nods. “Good. I can trust you, Zathar. Can’t I?”

“Of course you can.”

“Yeah,” Yezakh says and smiles nervously. “Let’s hurry back up now.”

“Yeah.”