Vanerak limps down the black stairs toward Halax, breathing hard all the while, nearly panting. He sits down beside him heavily.

  Halax is slightly surprised. This feels almost brotherly, like something a more usual runeknight would do. It might be that his Runethane has fully shaken off his forging trance. Zathar has shaken it from him, brought him back into the mortal world, to dwell on concerns of mortal flesh.

  “I am glad to see that you have survived, my Runethane.”

  Vanerak catches his rattling breath, then says, “I have erred most grievously, Halax.”

  “We have won. The so-called demons are no more. And I assume that you have thrown down that guardian, put in place to stop mortals seeking the secrets of the first runeknights, now ours to peruse at leisure.”

  “Not at leisure. The Runegod that created the guardian will know it has been destroyed. It will come to investigate.”

  “Eventually.”

  “You are falling to wishful thinking, Halax. Like I did, in believing Zathar could not rise to equal me.”

  “He is not your equal. The guardian was a fierce foe. It tried us severely. I only just secured my healing chains in time—and remain too weak to even move.”

  “I did not factor in the power of his ruby. His small use of true metal stole my attention. I thought that because he was just a fraction-degree, he posed no threat. I did not look at what that ruby contains. Did not puzzle over it enough.”

  “Contains, my Runethane?”

  “It contains an imprint of the First Runeforger, a shadow cast by him. Just as Zathar himself does. A glimpse at that statue has connected many things.”

  “Statue, my Runethane?”

  “At the center of the dome beyond the gate stands a statue of the First Runeforger. His face has a similar cast to Zathar's about it.”

  “I see.”

  “In his hand he clutches a sphere.”

  “The sphere you say gives Zathar his power?”

  “Perhaps, though—maybe not. In any case, the sphere Zathar sees does not give him power. It redirects the power of molten stone through his soul, which he then gives shape. The exact process I do not yet understand. The runes above may offer some clues. And I see now that I must explain all of what Zathar told me to you. Your mind is sharp. You will be able to help bring to fruition my ambitions.”

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

  “Your ambition to runeforge, yes. I see now how we can do it.”

  Vanerak is silent for several long moments.

  “You are surprised, my Runethane.”

  “Yes. And intrigued also, to see if your conclusions are the same as mine.”

  “The guardian and the chains below provided the insight."

  "They provided me with insights also. Go on."

  "A rune contains meaning made real by power. When Zathar runeforges, he pours into a symbol the vast power of molten stone beneath us, via the sphere, as you have just implied. A truly immense amount of power.”

  “I believe you are correct.”

  “But there are other powers besides that of molten stone. The so-called demons were also power given form. The cages and hooks in this part of the city were to trap salamanders. The guardian drew out their souls, infused them with heat and purpose, and let them loose as half-living beings. Or rather, I should say the Runegod, whose weapon the guardian was, did this.”

  “We will disassemble its gauntlet and investigate to see if this is truly the case. But I also had similar thoughts.”

  “The soul of a salamander is not so complex. However, the soul of a dwarf—that could perhaps hold truly immense power inside its inner arrangements, tucked and hidden and folded subtly away, enough power to imbue a symbol and create a rune.”

  “Power transformed to meaning. Meaning altered into another meaning. Yes, your conclusion is the same as mine. Similar has been done before—Zathar told me of a dwarf called Fjalar, who took the blood of others and imbued it into his spirit to strengthen himself. Soul came via blood, in his runes.”

  "You must tell me more of this dwarf and his craft, my Runethane. It sounds intriguing."

  "That I will. My knowledge will be yours."

  “Power through blood," Halax muses. "Perhaps that is how a dwarven soul can be used to create a rune."

  "We will see. I think it will not be so simple, however."

  "You are probably correct. And I predict that this kind of rune would not be like the runes of the First or Second Runeforgers. It would be different—I cannot quite predict in what manner. Less powerful yet more complex and subtle. First, though, is the problem of transferring the power.”

  “The statue may teach us how. It will offer some clues, at least. The First Runeforger transformed everything, brought about an age of metal to replace that of stone. His deeds will have been recorded above in detail. In enough detail that this place had to be guarded.”

  Halax nods. “The Runegods fear the world being changed for a second time.”

  “That they do. But it has always been my ambition to rise above them, as you well know.”

  “That will be accomplished with our new power. New runes. A new kind of rune.”

  “Yes, yes.” Vanerak, through his mirror-mask, gazes up at the bright chandeliers as he speaks. “A rune with a living soul for its ever-burning fuel. The humans talk of heaven, of living in endless peace after death. I know that after death is only constant pain, a drawn-out tone of a scream—how much better would it be to instead continue as eternal meaning after receiving one's final wound?”

  “Do you think Zathar deserves such an honor?”

  “I do not care about what he deserves or does not deserve. Only about the power he can give me. He already has given me much. And when we next meet, he will give me more.”

  Silence falls. The two dwarves sit there on the black stone under the white lights, dreaming of forging a new world.

  BEYOND THE MAGMA SHORE

  END

  ZATHAR'S JOURNEY CONTINUES IN

  RETURN TO DARKNESS

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