The red rain did not abate, and the powdery stone underfoot developed a thick coating of sludge. Our pace slowed to a crawl. On either side of the path, an awful drop waited for me to lose my footing and topple down. And the likelihood of me falling increased by the second as the screams in the sky continued to echo into my ears, deadening my brain. They were not screams made of sound, because no sound so loud could reach through the thin air at this altitude. They were a spiritual terror, descending from the heavens to reach into my head.

“Damn it!” shouted Tradfast. “Fuck this noise! Fuck this sludge! How are we meant to make it up the mountain through this?”

Lorsson turned to look at him.

“It’ll all be all right. Just concentrate on moving forward, and keep your weight low.”

I grunted, and so did Tradfast. The sludge was sticky as well as slippery, and getting worse. After half an hour, it became a struggle to lift my feet, and each time I paused to catch my breath, I slid backwards with a squelching sound. Even Buro, that elite warrior from ten thousand years past, was having difficulty.

“Buro!” I shouted. “Tradfast’s right. We’ll never make it to the mountain in time.”

“We will,” he said. “We must.”

I hissed through my teeth. What good was saying that? I knew that we must, but stating the fact out loud would do nothing to hasten our journey. I took another look up at the sky. The faces were still there, screaming and pouring blood, but the rippling had stopped. All the Gods had finished pouring forth from whatever realm they usually resided in and were now on the ground like so many gigantic snakes. I gulped as I saw smaller figures pouring from their bellies and towards the dwarfholds as if drawn by an urge to tear down all that was dwarf-made there.

“Harbingers!” I shouted. ‘Buro, Captain Lorsson! Look!”

I pointed to the rushing figures, charging across the desert in a blob. A few broke away from the main masses, moving at an impossible pace. What sort of legs did those things have? My skin pricked up in goosebumps; Surely it was only a matter of time before one of the Gods sent its minions after us, lonely and exposed here on the mountaintop. I drew my sword.

The red rain hissed and evaporated as it touched the twisted runes in the steel, and I yelped and nearly dropped the weapon in shock. Transfixed, I watched as the runes glowed like fire-bugs as puffs of vapour wafted off them. Of course, if runeblades could destroy ghosts, they must be able to destroy this strange ghostly rain too.

“Good thinking, Stony,” came Buro’s voice.

I turned to look at him, and a crimson flash lit up the mountain. A tremendous hiss of steam came up from the ground around Buro. He had plunged his sword into the path, turning a five metre circle of the red sludge dry. In its place were merely dried red flakes peeling off the pale stone.

“You see!” cried Lorsson. “We’ll be alright!”

He plunged his sword into the ground and the path around him became clear as well. I winced. Would I be killing some part of those souls above if I did the same? No, they were already dead. And desecrating some part of their corpse would be no problem to me if it meant saving Airon, and myself, from this cataclysm. I drove my sword into the ground, and the sludge around it hissed and bubbled, letting out bloody vapour with a sound like a death-rattle. Gritting my teeth to ignore the viscerality, I twisted the blade in deeper. After a few seconds the hissing stopped, and I lifted my foot to test the effect. My boot came away from the ground with ease.

Tradfast pushed me stumbling forward, knocking the scant breath from my lungs.

“Come on! We don’t have time to waste.”

I didn't need to bite back a curse at the overseer; I knew he was right. One foot in front of the other, I strode on through the crumbling trail. I didn't even need to use my sword again, as Buro made the path ahead clear with his. With the rain gone, we advanced at a normal pace. Shielding my eyes from the rain, I saw that the crater-lip at the top of the mountain was within what could be considered a fair walking distance, and a thrill ran through my heart. We were nearly there!

Then the ground shook.

“Ah!” I cried, and fell forward, dropping my sword to clang on the dry red rock. Another tremor came, and the flakes of red in front of my eyes shivered.

“Stony, Lorsson, stand up!” shouted Buro. I grabbed my blade and looked to see him waving his sword at me. Captain Lorsson was already up, his steel armour coated in red flakes, staring in horror down the mountain.

“What is it?” I cried. “Lorsson, what do you see?”

“Shit!” shouted Tradfast. “It’s one of the Gods! It’s trying to bring the whole mountain down!”

He was right. Below us, the great antlered snake-god was poised to hit the mountain again. I watched in horror as it reared up, then struck out with its head, roaring as its antlers shredded the air. In that same moment I tensed every muscle, bent my legs and stuck my sword into the ground the few centimetres it would go, but it was no use. Great waves of shock rippled through the mountain, sending me onto the ground sideways. I hit my face against red flakes of dried blood which flicked up onto my tongue, tasting of rotten meat and acid.

I rolled back up, spitting the foul material out.

“We need to move,” I groaned. “We need to move!”

The snake-God roared again, then turned away, shaking its head. Had the tremendous impact injured it somehow? I took a closer look at where its antlers had impacted the mountain. Green holes were implanted there, steaming, surrounded by thick mats of thin plants. Then from one of the holes clambered a harbinger, the biggest I’d ever seen, bigger than even Tradfast. Then came another, and another, dozens pouring from each hole.

“Shit!” cried Captain Lorsson, the first time I’d heard him panicked. He pointed down the hill.

“I can see!” I shouted, and stood up. “We need to run!”

“Not that, Stony!” shouted Tradfast. “Buro’s fallen!”

His voice carried an unmistakable quality of relief, and when I looked at him he wore a half smile on his lips. I ignored it.

“Are you alright?” I shouted down the mountainside. “Can you climb up?”

Buro lay nearly a hundred metres down. A steaming trail lay behind him, he had obviously used his sword to slow his descent, and from the way he had it stuck into a crack in front of him, used it to stop himself too.

“Buro!”

He gave no reply, but slowly got to his feet, coughing red flakes like I had done.

“Wait for me!” he shouted, his voice barely reaching me through the thin air, the constant drone of rain and the unearthly screaming from harbingers on the ground and dying souls in the sky. For the first time, Buro seemed genuinely afraid. “Don’t leave me to the Gods!”

“We don’t have time to rescue him,” said Tradfast. “We can get whatever weapon kills these Gods ourselves.”

I turned to Tradfast, aghast.

“We don’t even know what this weapon looks like! Nor how to use it! We can’t leave him.”

“Can’t your King tell us? The one in your sapphire?”

I bit my lip. Tradfast was right, the King would tell us. He had to if he wanted to live. But Buro had saved me down in the trial, and I didn't think I could leave him there. He wasn’t a bad person, probably.

“I’m going down to get him. He saved my life, I have to help him back up. You should understand, Tradfast.”

Tradfast scowled.

“Don’t trust him, Stony. Remember he’s a ghost. He should be dead.”

“We’ll all be dead if it wasn’t for his people.”

“His people are the reason we’re in this fucking disaster.”

I ignored him, and began to make my way down the slope, using my sword like a walking stick, digging into whatever cracks I could see to support me. Wind lashed at me from below, blowing my beard around despite the thinness of the air.

“Come on Buro!” I shouted. “Start walking up!”

He gritted his teeth and began to make his way up the slope, wincing whenever he pushed off with his right leg. How badly injured was the limb? Probably worse than it looked, considering the dwarf’s toughness and resolve. He would hopefully be able to make it to the mountain, but as for fighting the priests...

Monstrous screaming and the sound of snapping jaws floated up from the mountain. Behind Buro, getting closer by the second, were the harbingers.

“Come on!” I shouted, and grabbed Buro by the arm. I began to pull him up with me, but I hadn’t realised how far down the mountain I had scrambled. Above me the blood red slope was far more imposing than it had ever looked before. How long would it take to climb back up? My legs and right arm burned, and dizziness was making its way back into my head.

“Stony, you can’t slow down,” said Buro. “The harbingers are nearly here.”

I looked back, and saw he was right. Two huge ones, twice my size at least, with sharpened antlers and claws nearly the length of swords were only a minute’s climb from us. Fear pumped through my whole body. I let go of Buro. I should leave him, Tradfast was right, we could save the miners, and get the weapon ourselves. I could get out of this peril and never have to fight the harbingers.

“Don’t worry!” shouted Captain Lorsson. I looked up to see him clambering down from the path onto the slope. “I’ll hold them off while you get to the top!”

I grabbed hold of Buro and began pulling him with me again, every tug on him sending aches through my arms.

“Come on, Stony,” he said. “We can do this. It’s only half an hour to the tomb’s entrance.”

I nodded, feeling ashamed. Had I really been about to abandon this dwarf? I looked at him, face bloody, chest heaving, grip on his sword still firm. He was not the indwarvern monster Tradfast thought he was, he was my fellow. No, I couldn’t abandon him to die, nor anyone.

Strangely enough, I had changed from three days ago.

“Lorsson!” I grabbed the Captain as he was about to go past. “I’ll help you fight. You can’t take them alone.”

Captain Lorsson frowned.

“Are you sure, Stony? I’ll be honest, it won’t be an easy fight, and-”

“I’ve killed before! And I can do it again. Look, there’s only two of them within close distance.” I brandished my sword, hoping the Captain couldn’t see how badly my hands were shaking. “We can cut them down while Buro makes his way up to Tradfast. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, Stony.” He smiled. “Let’s do this. We have the advantage up here.”

I nodded, and Buro clapped me on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, voice oddly devoid of emotion. “I won’t forget it.”

Another shriek came, and I saw the two harbingers were almost upon us. Captain Lorsson bent his knees, and held his sword in front of him, point at the harbinger closest to him. I tried to mimic him, but my sword was shorter than his, and the tip wobbled conspicuously. I tried to remember how I had fought on the bridge in the city, how I had killed the harbingers there. But all I could remember was being centimetres away from the harbinger I faced eviscerating me. It was pure luck that I had survived, luck and the heroics of Captain Lorsson and Buro.

“Steady,” said Lorsson.

I tightened my grip, and locked eyes with the monster mere tens of seconds away from me. Its irises were green, its pupils black scars devoid of anything but the desire to carry out its God’s bidding. Its claws dug into the glistening slope, scraping and cracking the fragile stone. Now it was nearly within striking distance, and it raised up one arm.

“Charge!” shouted the Captain, and he ducked down, swinging his sword up in a shimmering arc. His opponent swatted down to meet the attack, but I had no time to observe the collision. I ducked as the Captain had done, and tried to swing my sword up in the same manner but the harbinger blocked it with one green forearm, my blade biting into its scaly flesh at an angle too indirect to harm it. At the same time, two of its other arms slapped down at me.

I screamed and dove forwards, yanking my sword free. Stabs of pain lanced through me as the harbinger’s razor-claws slashed into my back, but no further than my skin. I rolled through the creature’s legs and spun around, slashing wildly at the harbinger’s ankles, missing. Terror coursed through me. I couldn’t beat this thing. I was no fighter, just a miner, armed with a weapon he had no idea how to use. I felt cold, despite the disgustingly warm wind and red rain. The point of my blade wobbled like a lone hair blown in the wind.

With another terrible scream, the harbinger charged for me, slashing at me from four different angles, claws outstretched to cut me into a hundred ribbons of flesh. I took a step backwards to retreat, and heard the thousands harbingers further down roar in unanimous hunger.

“Jump to the side, Stony!” shouted Captain Lorsson. “You can win this!”

I glanced at him; his harbinger lay in two pieces at his feet, green blood dribbling from its rope-like entrails. He was right, sideways was the only place I could go. I bent my legs and leapt to the left. The harbinger’s momentum carried it past me. For the briefest of moments, it paused, confused, and I stabbed at it. But in an instinctual jerk of self preservation, it swatted my blade away with its lower arm, and opened its gaping jaws at me.

Lorsson was wrong. I couldn’t win this.

The creature crouched to spring at me, then its eyes widened in terror. The Captain’s sword flew past my shoulder faster than an arrow, so close I almost felt it brush past my cheek. The next instant, it was stuck halfway through the harbinger’s head. The monster collapsed, a green sack of dead lizard-meat. I collapsed too, panting and choking on thin air mixed with blood.

“Sorry,” I said, casting my eyes at the ground in shame.

“It’s no trouble,” said Lorsson, smiling. “You managed to distract it, at least.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” I said, coughing. “We have to climb back up now. We don’t have time to wait.”

“No,” said Lorsson. I heard him sigh deeply. “I’m sorry, Stony, but we’ll have to leave the King’s tomb to them. They’ll have to work the weapon by themselves.”

“What?” I turned to him, my mouth hanging open in shock and horror. His sad eyes were fixed on the slope below. The deaths of the two harbingers had driven the crowd below into a fury, and they advanced at double the speed. The rumble of their advance vibrated the ground beneath my feet.

“No!” I shouted, and looked up at the path above. “We can make it in time!”

Even as I said the words, I knew they were a lie. Captain Lorsson raised his sword above his head, its white runes glowing through the rainstorm with a new brilliance.

“What are you doing?”

“We should knock as many of them down as possible. It’ll buy time for Buro and Tradfast. It’s all we can do, Stony.”

“No, no!” I grabbed my pocket and drew out the sapphire. “You can do something, can’t you, Ghost King!” I shook the ancient artifact violently. “If you don’t I’ll throw you down there myself! You hear me?”

But the stone was silent and cold, as if the rock itself were resigned to die. I looked past it at the mass of lizard monsters. Even if we did slow them down, our mission was doomed, I realised. At the pace they’d been going before, we might have just made it up the mountain in time. But now there was no chance of that.

“Charge!” screamed Lorsson, voice half breaking, and he leapt down the slope.

And the lizards turned and fled. The Captain dug his sword into the ground, steam sizzling from the blade, stopping so abruptly he nearly toppled over. He stared at the retreating mob for a few seconds, stunned into silence.

“Did your King do something?” he asked.

I looked at the sapphire.

“Did you?” I asked the Ghost King. The sapphire flashed blue and a laugh boomed from it.

“No,” came the King’s voice, echoing around my skull with a mad joy. “But someone did. Someone must have hurt the Gods themselves!”

I frowned. Who could possibly hurt a God? Red, blue and green flashed at the corner of my visions. I swept my gaze across the desert to see where they had come from. The dwarfholds! The mountainsides were lit by hundreds of flashes, and with each flash came an accompanying spear, lancing through the air at the Gods. Each one exploded as it hit the ground, opening up pockmark holes in the tide of harbingers. Some even hit the Gods themselves, opening up green rents in their massive scales.

“What are those?” I asked Lorsson. “What are those weapons?”

Lorsson beamed at me.

“Our armies have been fighting desert lizards for years,” he said. “We have plenty of weapons to fight with.”

Was it possible? Could the Gods be defeated without the help of the King in the sapphire? But the harbingers still poured across the desert, a black army vast enough to cover each mountain in the dwarfholds with thousands of four-armed scaly monsters. As impressive as the spear-gem-cannons or whatever they are were, they were barely denting the army of monsters.

No, the dwarves would be overwhelmed, no matter how many spears they launched. All that stood between the comforts of civilisation and the end of the world was the four of us.