I dashed through the gateway to the tomb without a second thought. Cool, comforting darkness and a stone roof subsumed me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. After living outside with only crags of rock to sleep under, entering the indoors was like settling under a pile of blankets after a miserable day of mining. Even if that indoors was an ten thousand year old tomb. I took a moment to shut my eyes and clear my mind.

“Buro,” I said, opening my eyes. “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way to the weapon, Stony. You need to cross the bridge.”

Bridge? My eyes began to adjust to the blackness slowly. Before me an enormous stone spiral took shape, twisting into the middle of the room over a seemingly endless drop, to where a large circle sat. Then I gasped. The spiral was not being held up by any struts or pillars, it just sat there in the crater, anchored at only two points: the entrance and the exit. How was it being held up? In the King’s day the dwarves had been capable of some incredible feats.

“Let’s go,” said Captain Lorsson, appearing through the door behind me, an easy but tired smile on his face. His blade glowed a mottled red and white. It must still have been burning off the filthy ghost-blood on it, and it lit the room a little further. “I’m sure it’s safe.”

“Yes,” I said, swallowing. “It has to be.”

I took a step forward, half expecting the stone to tilt and wobble under my feet, but the spiral was a solid as any other stone bridge. As long as I didn't look at the drop on either side, I could imagine I was walking in town. Not that I ever wanted to go back there, of course. Our footsteps echoed from the large flagstones strangely, as if distorted by the spiral structure beneath us.

“Captain Lorsson,” I said. “Did you see what happened to the dwarfholds? Did the dwarves escape?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I think so. I couldn’t see clearly, but I think most of them managed to run back. And in the end, the barrage wasn’t so bad after all.”

“What? Not so bad? There must have been a million tonnes of destruction called down on them.”

“No,” came Tradfast’s gruff voice. “Destruction is the wrong word. Construction. A forest sprouted where the dwarves were. I’ve never seen anything like it. A lake over the burned splinters, trees on the bare rock. And most of the barrage didn't even hit the dwarves. It was scattered all over the mountains and valleys.”

Unease settled in my stomach like a heap of stones.

“It must be for the harbingers. The holes that antler-God created were filled with grass, and harbingers came pouring from them. Maybe they need plants to live, or something.”

That seemed strange even as I said it; looking at their teeth, the harbingers clearly ate dwarves. And Gods of destruction creating plants? But then again, the statues underground had only depicted them destroying the things of dwarf. Were they the Gods of some old, green world then? That reminded me of the old tomb I’d found my sword in, and the ghost of the King there, draped in vines and leaves. I looked cautiously down at the blade hanging from my hip.

‘Either way,” said Lorsson, “The Gods weren’t aiming to kill with their barrage, at least not directly. I have a strong feeling most of the dwarves survived, and they’ll probably have an easier time fighting inside the tunnels than outside of them.”

Tradfast snorted loudly, the sound echoing around the crater.

“They should have done that from the start, if you ask me. Damn idiot generals. I remember how much we used to complain about them back in the army. No offense, Lorsson. I know your father’s one.”

“I agree,” I said. “The army should know how to fight. It’s their damn job.”

Lorsson sighed.“It won’t matter until we’re out of here with the weapon. We need to focus on that, and steel our hearts for our own fight. Then, and only then, can we worry about what happened outside.”

Tradfast grunted his reluctant agreement, and I nodded silently. We had to focus on the tasks before us: saving Airon and reaching the weapon.

The circle at the centre of the room became clearer as we spiralled inward. It was a round hole, engraved around with carvings, although I couldn’t work out what they were. A rusted iron framework hung from the roof, suspended by three metal poles. What looked like the remains of curved blades sprung out from two sides.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing. It was the King who answered me.

“Against any and all intruders who may have try to gain access to my glorious afterlife, some defense measures were in order. But it is too rusted to function now, and you need have no fear.”

I gulped, the machine was a ruthless measure. But a fair one. Once I had my own wealth, I didn’t want anyone else to get their grubby hands on it. Still, I felt a little apprehensive as I stepped under the first of the rusted blades, suspended a mere metre over my head. Lorsson and Tradfast hesitated, no doubt worried it’d spring back to life and slice their heads off. Tradfast held up his sword, which glowed even redder than Lorsson’s, as if to block the deathtrap.

“The King said it’s safe.”

Lorsson nodded, swallowed visibly, and walked under the blade, his helmet nearly scraping against it. Tradfast had to duck to get under.

“I’m not taking the lead ever again on this journey, Stony,” he said. “You’re going to keep leading us, understand? I want plenty of warning if one of these deathtraps reactivates.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Lorsson. “Calm down, Tradfast. Nothing is going to reactivate.”

I came to the edge of the hole in the centre of the room. There was a short step up onto a circular platform, and within that platform a spiral staircase down, like an enormous screw into the centre of the mountain.

“Buro,” I called, voice echoing down the tunnel. “Do we climb down?”

“Of course, Stony,” came the reply, sounding even further away than it had before, and I wondered where exactly in the complex he was. A the bottom of the stairs perhaps?

I looked down, making sure I didn't trip over the lip between stair circle and spiral bridge, and a strange shape caught my eye, lit red from the glow of Lorsson and Tradfast’s swords. A triangle. I frowned and bent down; the shape seemed familiar, as if I’d seen it a dozen times before. Then it struck me. The triangle was a dagger-like tooth, and I’d seen its like a thousand times before, in the mouths of the Gods. Jaw dropped open in horror, cold air chilling my teeth, I cast my eyes along the spiral. Now with my eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, I saw the curled bridge for what it was. An enormous God statue, curling around and biting onto the staircase in the centre of the room. The flagstones we’d been walking on were stone scales.

“What?” I shouted, my shout bouncing off the walls a hundred times. “Why?”

The sapphire lit up blue, illuminating Lorsson and Tradfast’s gaping mouths, and the King’s voice boomed inside my head.

“Because if I hadn’t, the priests would have taken offence. They were powerful back then, Stony, and half the builders of this place were under their sway. I had to include this... symbol. But rest assured, I will have it destroyed after this battle is finished.”

“But,” I said, “Weren’t you the King? Couldn’t you have made it as you liked?”

“No,” came the reply, simple and straightforward.

There was a moment of silence, then Tradfast spoke. “I’m not taking another step in here. I’ve told you a hundred times, this King, this Buro, they’re not to be trusted. They’re on the same side as the priests. I don’t know the reason they’re leading us here, but it’s not good.”

“Wait!” I said. “He told me how powerful the priests were back before the ritual. If he hadn’t pretended to be on their side, he’d never have been able to build the weapon. We need to trust him. And Buro too.”

“Bullshit,” said Tradfast. “He’s in league with the priests.”

“No Tradfast,” said Lorsson. “Just because you rule doesn’t mean you can do whatever you like. I remember my father saying the same thing, and I’ve had the same experience too. I didn't want Horir in my platoon, but I had no choice but to take him. It’s just the same as that.”

I tilted my head to the side, and swallowed some bile as I put my foot back onto the stair. “Exactly,” I said. “Lorsson’s right.”

“Fine,” said Tradfast. “But I’m only going down because I have a duty to the miners. I still don’t believe this weapon is real.”

“Fine.” But despite Lorsson’s logic, Tradfast was sounding more convincing by the second. Why would a King so ferociously hateful of the Gods agree to have the symbol of his mortal enemies as the centerpiece of his tomb’s entrance? Was the God-bridge really just a cover? Doubts clouded my mind as we crept down the staircase.

Every step down had a carving of a God or harbinger, exactly like the ones that filled the city under the mountain. The walls too were covered in religious frescoes, and in the spots of sword-light not tinged by blood, I saw that the harbingers painted there were as green as the ones we’d just fought. I looked back to Lorsson for reassurance, but saw his face was as pale as the bleached rock outside. Did he even believe his own justifications?

“Better draw your sword, Stony” said Tradfast, dragging his own blade against the wall and scoring deep marks in the paint.

“You shouldn’t damage them,” I said, shivering at the sound of metal on stone. “I don’t think its wise.”

“Why?” Tradfast barked out a laugh. “Your King shouldn’t care, not unless I’m right about him!”

I shook my head, and decided not to draw my sword. We were safe here, I told myself. If the priests came, we’d hear them first. I didn't need my blade’s extra light nor its protection. All I’d accomplish my waving my sword around on these stairs would be cutting myself, or dropping the blade down to where I might never retrieve it.

“Buro,” I called again. “How far away are we?”

“You will pass some doorways soon. Take the fourth one.”

"Yes, but how far away are we?"

"Not far," came the reply, but it sounded more distant than ever.

"The priests will be waiting for us just around the corner," said Tradfast. "I bet Buro’s led us down here to die."

"They won't be," I said. "If they were close to us we'd have heard them by now. They must be closer to the weapon, and Buro."

"Then why haven't they found him? Why haven’t we heard them chasing after him?"

"Just stay calm," said Lorsson, voice tremoring slightly. "Trust that Buro's leading us the right way. We saw how scared he was of the Gods. There's no reason to doubt him after that."

Tradfast grunted again.

"I can see I'm never going to convince any of you. But at least you're smart enough to keep your sword drawn, Lorsson."

I thumped my fist against the hard stone wall, sending a bruise of pain though my hand.

"For the last time, shut up Tradfast!"

Steaming with irritation, I passed the first doorway. It opened up suddenly, a further hole in the darkness, lined with a pattern of two Gods rearing up, heads meeting in the middle. The way they rose was disturbingly like the way they did outside before they unleashed their barrage onto the dwarfholds. I shuddered. The priests must have known exactly what the Gods were going to do and not only that, how they were going to accomplish it. Perhaps the King had known too.

A clank sounded from down the passage the moment I stepped past its gaping mouth.

"What was that?" whispered Lorsson. "Everyone, stop!"

I stopped, and finally drew my sword, its red glow lighting my hands crimson. I knew that sound, it was one I'd heard many times in the past few days. It was the same sound Lorsson made as he walked. It was the clank of dwarven armour.

"It's the soldiers!" I hissed. "It must be! And the miners must be nearby!"

"Let's go," said Tradfast. "This is what we came for, isn’t it?"

"Don't!" came Buro's distant cry. "We must get the weapon first! Get to the fourth corridor!"

"No," said Lorsson, drawing himself up and raising his sword to guard. "Buro,” he called down the staircase, “You can search for the weapon ahead of us. I'm not going to abandon my dwarves to the phantoms inside of them. We came down here to save lives, and that's what we're going to do." The Captain turned back to me and Tradfast. "We will rip the shards of gem from each dwarf, and restore them to themselves. Are you with me, Stony and Tradfast?"

"Yes," I said, without even the merest pause to consider. "I'm going to save Airon."

"No!" came Buro's voice. "You musn't!"

"Shut up!" yelled Tradfast. "Stay wherever you are, Buro. I'm going to save my miners."

Buro gave no further reply, but even if he had it wouldn’t have mattered. Righteous fire burned in my heat, and I’m sure it burned in Lorsson and Tradfast’s hearts too. We were going to save our friends.