The soldiers corralled us into a small group with no little effort. Every single miner, me included, dragged his feet as much as possible. Some sat on the floor and refused to move, others leaned against the wall. Those the soldiers had to drag up. Some tried to escape out the door, but after sprinting all the way back to the mine, most didn't have enough energy to outrun Captain Lorsson’s men. Eventually, everyone accepted that it was hopeless to resist and followed the soldiers’ instructions obediently. I tried to stay near the back of the group, as far from Tradfast as possible. He must have had a reason for not telling the Captain about my sapphire. I guessed he planned to nick it for himself.

We were marched up the stairs, and out into the town square. I could just glimpse women and children staring at us with wide, frightened eyes through the ranks of soldiers.

One lady dropped her basket of food in shock, then charged at the platoon, screaming and flailing her arms.

“What’s going on?” She cried. “Is that my husband in there? Let him out, you dogs!”

She jumped at the gap between two soldiers, with such fury that I cringed back a little, as if she might actually make her way through. But no; she was grabbed under the arms and thrown to the hard stone tiles.

She curled up, weeping and clutching her arm. I wondered whose wife she was, and if she’d ever see her husband again. I knew I should be angry at the injustice, but right then I was still in shock at the insane pace of events.

“Be careful dwarves!” shouted Captain Lorsson. “Try not to be so violent!” I doubted anyone would pay attention.

As if the incident hadn’t happened, we continued the march. The formation narrowed as we left the town square, so that there was a column two soldiers thick on either side of the miners. The double layer of upright spears gave the impression I was in a cage, like I was some meat-beast being hauled to the abattoir. I swallowed, and tried to reassure myself I wasn’t being led to my death. The the soldiers would protect us from the ghosts, whereever they had gone. It seemed the phantoms hadn’t made it to town.

“Double file!” ordered Captain Lorsson as we approached the tunnel to the mines. The formation lengthened and thinned. Us miners were put in pairs, soldiers front and back, and in the jumble I was pushed forward next to Tradfast. He scowled when he noticed me next to him, and I scowled back, putting as big a gap between us as possible.

“What are you doing here?” he said. “You ran off.”

“I would still be running off, if I hadn’t run into the soldiers you brought here.”

“I should have you put outside.” For once he sounded serious, with no bluster. A knot formed in my stomach as I recalled my encounter with the outsiders just a few hours ago.

“The Captain seems to like me,” I said, bitterly. “He thinks I’m some kind of rustic local. So you won’t be laying a finger on me. Or my possessions. Any of them.”

He scowled, and lowered his voice so the soldiers couldn’t hear us over the clanking of armour, and crunch of boot on stone. “So it’s just as I thought. I wondered why Fastpick had such a worried look on his face. They had him digging on the wrong level. You can’t hang onto it forever you know. If the soldiers don’t take it, the ghosts will.”

“If you don’t take it, you mean.”

“I’m not going to. I never forget a debt. Even to someone like you.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes more. My hands shook, and each time the sapphire bumped against my chest with my steps, anxiety’s roots went a little further into my heart. Airon had been right. I should have left it behind, and just prayed no witnesses to my fight with the old man remained after the quake. Airon... Airon!

“Where is he?” I asked, suddenly realising that he wasn’t with us.

“Who?” grunted Tradfast. He was squinting ahead furtively, as if expecting something to fly from the darkness.

“My friend. Airon.”

“He’s in the shelter with most of the others. We pulled it together when the ghosts first appeared.”

“He’s alive then?” A little relief crept into my heart.

“Maybe. The ghosts don’t seem to be strong enough to move things around. They just...” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to put his fear into words.

The sapphire felt a little colder against my breast. I dismissed it as my imagination.

“What are the ghosts anyway? And what was that letter you were mumbling about when Airon and I found you?”

I asked the questions without really wanting to know the answers. I just wanted something to distract me. If I had trudged through the tunnel in silence, I’d probably have broken down in fear.

“I don’t know, and it’s none of your business.” Tradfast answered both questions in a single sentence, and kept his focus on the roof ahead of us.

“Where did the ghosts go anyway? You ran into the dining hall so panicked I was convinced they’d be behind you.”

“None of us looked back,” he snapped. “Neither would you have, if you’d stayed to help the others out of the rubble instead of buggering off like a coward.”

He gave me a warning glare, as fierce as any he’d given before, but behind the facade I could tell he was still shaken.

“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll ask someone else.”

I turned my head to look at the soldier behind me, a dwarf of about thirty with dark circles around his eyes.

“What are the ghosts?”

The only sign he’d heard me was a heavy blink. Other than that, he kept marching without responding. I narrowed my eyes.

“Tell me! You must have been given some information before coming down here!”

Anger welled up within me like boiling water. Now I really wanted to know the answers. How dare no one tell us what was going on?

I squared up to the soldier and halted. He gave a momentary look of surprise, before marching straight into me. Even without any purposeful strike, he was heavy enough coated in steel that the impact knocked me back a few steps, the hard metal bruising my chest. But my fury drove me. I shoved him hard, pressing off the ground with my legs, pushing all my weight into him. It was enough to stop him dead, and the miner behind him, and the soldier behind him in turn. The half of the formation behind me stumbled to a halt, shouting in confusion..

“I demand to know what it going on. We all do!” How dare they treat us like this? My desire to keep my head down evaporated as the injustice of the situation dawned on me. I was a pure victim here, so were all the miners. I lived in squalor, with only the barest amount of freedom, scraping out caverns so wealthier dwarves could live comfortably. And the thanks I got was to be marched back into a disaster zone, and a haunted one at that.

The soldier opened his mouth to reply, but Tradfast put one plate sized hand over my mouth. One finger pressed against my broken nose; there was a painful crunch and I gave a muffled yelp of pain.

“Ignore him,” said Tradfast hurriedly. “He’s--”

I grabbed one of Tradfast’s sausage sized fingers with both hands and wrenched it down, freeing myself.

“I’m not going in there without knowing what’s going on! Some of my friends have died in there.” I stared into the soldier’s eyes with utter focus. Behind him, the rest of the column waited in anticipation. Some of them shifted guiltily a little.

Then my eyes widened as I saw the miner behind the soldier twist his expression into a snarl and glared pure hatred at me. My heart missed a beat as I realised who it was.

A small dwarf, his beard more matted than when I’d last seen it, but his identity was unmistakable. Bushy-Beard, the number one witness to my slaying of the old miner, was still alive! I’d hoped he’d been crushed by the scaffold, or else been done in by the ghosts.

For a moment I tensed, petrified he’d accuse me of murder there and then. But he remained silent. From the way he trembled and clenched his teeth, I could tell he was restraining himself in front of the soldiers. He’d wait to take his revenge later.

The soldier tilted his head to one side a little, as if considering what to say, but I restarted my tirade before he had a chance to respond. “I demand to know what the ghosts are! We have a right to know!”

“We’re not allowed to tell you,” he said. “For morale purposes.”

“Morale purposes?”

“Orders are orders,” he said. “I don’t like it either. I don’t know what it’s like in the mines, but in the army orders are absolute. We’re not allowed to tell anyone about the ghosts.” He looked at me with an almost apologetic expression. He didn't want to be here anymore than I did. But I was too frustrated and angry to care.

“I don’t give a damn about your orders! Tell me what the ghosts are!”

His lips remained sealed; it was clear my anger wasn’t getting through to him, and I changed tack.

“Come on, you must understand,” I pleaded. “How would you feel if your Captain threw you into a fight without telling you who your enemies are?”

“Look,” said the soldier, narrowing his eyes and taking a step forward. “We’re not too sure either. But what we do know we can’t say, so--”

I narrowed my eyes and made to take a step forward, but Tradfast grabbed me from behind and jerked me around. He started to march after the rest of the column, pulling me along with him.

“Idiot! We’ll end up split in half if you continue your stupid argument. Come on!”

I bared my teeth and tried to wrench my arm free, but it was useless, Tradfast dragged me along without straining even a little. He was just too strong. The soldiers behind resumed their march. Captain Lorsson hadn’t seemed to notice the debacle; I wondered what his lieutenants thought of that.

A few minutes of sullen silence passed. It wasn’t fair, I thought. I knew it sounded childish, but it just wasn’t. Why was I being dragged along to my death? And why was no one other than me resisting? Tradfast, who’d pleaded not to be sent back, and surely had the strength to throw off a couple of soldiers, had gone along meekly as well. I clenched my fists until they hurt, but they felt weak and small in the face of so many spears, and so much armour.

Without warning a soldier at the front of the column screamed out. The soldiers stopped dead, and I smacked my face into the helmet of the one in front and cried out too, clutching my broken nose, tears streaming from my eyes at the pain.

“It’s the ghosts!” shouted Captain Lorsson, voice echoing around the tunnel. “Ready your spears!”

The soldiers had already raised them though, and their shields too. I ducked down. Glancing at Tradfast, I saw he’d gone pale and was staring at the floor. I stared up.

A kaleidoscope of unearthly colour bloomed above, painting the grey walls of the tunnel red, green and blue. The ghosts glided into view, and I shivered, suddenly cold.

At their head was one of deep, pure crimson. He was transparent enough that I could see through him, yet solid enough to convince me he was no illusion. His ghostly silk robes trailed behind him, as did a long scarf, embroidered with twisted symbols reminiscent of runes. His mouth was open as if screaming, but he and all his fellows were totally silent.

But the worst thing was his eyes. They were holes into darkness, and I couldn’t tear my own away from them. They seemed to drag in my very soul. Behind him came dozens more phantoms, either blood red like him, or poison green, or ice blue. I tore my eyes away from them and and glanced at the soldier behind me, hoping to see a stern expression of determination on his face, anything to reassure me. But he looked just a terrified as I felt, knuckles white on his spear shaft. I clutched at my sapphire, trying to remind myself of my plan to sneak away and sell it on the black market.

“Ah!”

I snatched my hand away with a gasp; the gem was so cold it numbed my hand. I looked back at the soldier.

“Can they die?” I asked him. He didn't reply, so I grabbed Tradfast’s arm and asked him. “Can they die?”

“You can’t kill something that’s already dead,” he whispered.

“The soldiers will protect us, won’t they? Won’t they?”

Then as one, the ghosts swooped down, completely fearless of the forest of spears jabbing up to meet them. I craned my head up, heart pumping like crazy. The soldiers would stab the ghosts to death, wouldn’t they? Even as I thought it, I knew the notion was ridiculous.

I watched in horrified fascination as the spears, instead of stabbing through the apparitions to pierce organs and cut through arteries, merely sank in a couple centimetres, bending the ghostly form slightly and pushing the ghost away a little. It was like the soldiers were armed with nothing but blunt sticks. Some ghosts managed to grab the spears with their hands, and clambered through them to reach the soldiers below. A few ranks ahead of me, one sunk its transparent fingers into a dwarf’s eye socket, there was a faint flash, and its victim collapsed.

I began to shake uncontrollably, goosebumps pricking every inch of me. I wasn’t going to stay here another moment longer. I spun around and charged past the soldier behind me; he was too preoccupied in jabbing away a grasping ghost to protest.

A fist sunk into my stomach and I collapsed to my knees, choking for breath.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to Jost.” The voice was a strangled and breathy, halfway between terror and rage.

I looked up into a snarling face. It was Bushy-Beard, a fierce anger shining in his eyes, veins popping out on his forehead and neck, his fists were clenched.

“Fuck off,” I choked out, still winded from his blow. “I’m getting out of here. If you have any sense, you will too.”

“I’m not getting out of here until I see you brought to justice!”

He grabbed my shirt front and wrenched me to my feet; he was much stronger than his frame suggested. But his strength didn't matter when I brought my knee up hard into his groin. It sunk into something soft, and he let go to bend double. I stumbled back a step, and punched him in the side of the head, putting the whole weight of my body into the strike. A sharp pain shot through my knuckles, but my fist had done its job, and the angry dwarf fell sideways.

Then the soldier behind Bushy-Beard stepped forward and shoved me to the ground. I was too surprised to resist.

“Get down!” he shouted, and I looked up. The roof above was slightly higher here, and half a dozen ghosts waited, staring down at me. No, not at me. My sapphire. From above, they must have caught a glimpse of it in my pocket. My gem flashed cold, freezing my skin to the shirt fabric. I cried out and pressed myself against the ground, and crawled back to put myself between the soldier and one of his comrades. The ghosts spiraled down, hands outstretched.

“Die!” shouted the soldier behind me, and his friend gave out a wordless battle-scream. They jabbed at the ghosts, knocking them back with each thrust, but not enough. More soldiers behind them pushed forward to help but they were too late.

Two ghosts grabbed a spear each, they were too weak to pull them away, but they slowed the soldiers down enough to open a gap in their defence. The green phantom of an old woman, her open mouth showing missing teeth, swooped through towards me. Her hand groped for my pocket. I scrambled back screaming so hard my throat hurt, back and arms chafing against the rough floor. My head smacked the cavern wall with a crack. The ghost’s hands reached forward, one to my pocket and the other to my eyes. I screamed.

The ghost lady shattered, an arc of runed steel sweeping through her. Shards of emerald flew in all directions, before vanishing into nothingness. An acidic, rotten smell filled the air, but faded with the rest of the ghost woman.

Captain Lorsson stood where she had been, whirling his sword, cutting glowing trails into the air. Another ghost, blue this time, fury etched on her face, swooped down to attack him, only to meet the same end as her friend. The rest paused their attack and drifted up to the ceiling, out of the Captain’s reach.

“Back!” he shouted. “Back!”

They sneered, before gliding away in the direction of the mine.

I lay there frozen, heart pumping faster than it ever had, even faster than when I’d been on the collapsing scaffold. Never before had I seen death reach out to grab me.

“Are you alright?” asked the captain. He gave me one hand, and I grabbed it, then snatched away. It was burning hot.

“Your hand’s cold!” he exclaimed.

“I think it was from the ghosts.” But that was a lie. It was the sapphire that had chilled my hand. Somehow it had sensed that the ghosts were after it. I should have thrown it away there and then, but something stopped me. A tugging at my brain stopped me from giving it to the Captain, or just dropping it in the tunnel somewhere. Whether it was the last dregs of hope and greed from when I’d found it that stopped me, or something more supernatural, I couldn’t tell.

“Nasty things.” said Lorsson, oblivious to my trauma. “I asked my commander to get the spears enchanted too you know, but apparently we didn't have the funds. So I’m the only one who can harm them right now.” He gave me a smile, but it didn't show the easy confidence he’d shown when I first met him. Behind the facade he was clearly shaken.

“But now we’ve confirmed the caverns are here, my father will be able to get his hands on some funds, and he’ll have some runesmiths sent along. And with all the gems you’re going to help us dig out, we’ll be able to pay those ladies enough to enchant our underwear!”

I stared up blankly. Was he trying to make a joke? Some of his men had just died. He seemed to notice, and his grin faded.

“Can’t you soldiers dig the treasures out yourselves?” I asked. I don’t think I sounded angry at that moment, just confused. I was too scared for rage. “Why are we getting dragged into this?”

The Captain bit his lip again. “Like I said, orders.”

I let out a long, shaky sigh, and stood up. Captain Lorsson put one thick arm around my shoulder, and began to walk me forwards. I tried to shrug him off, but had neither the will not strength.

“Come on,” he said. “The mine isn’t far now, surely. Is it?”

“You should ask the Overseer.”

“Him down there?” Captain Lorsson pointed at the ground. Tradfast, and Bushy-Beard too, lay quivering on the floor, hands over their eyes. “I think you have a stronger stomach.”