Supplies were bountiful as the small group worked throughout the night. Pieces of wood, large and small, were brought to Vidar’s room as it slowly, over the hours, looked more and more like a workshop. The smell of fresh wood and paint permeated the air, but Vidar refused to open the windows. He’d had enough of cold air.

  Siv painted guidelines, and the boys used their woodworking tools to make grooves which Siv then colored in red with a fine brush. Vidar’s job was simple, to rejuvenate each rune. To his help, he found the styrka rune to be a blessing. Pulling from the gathered sowilo runes into himself would have worked, but his body could only hold so much, and it would quickly grow tedious to work in such a manner, and time consuming. Instead, Vidar was able to empty several runes at a time to fill the styrka rune in the palm of his hand, that he could then continuously draw from instead.

  A few hours in, he painted another such rune on his right hand, to up the efficiency even more. Leaving the styrka runes triggered meant they stole essence whenever he touched one of the sowilo runes, without him having to focus on that piece of the process, speeding things up even further. Having so much essence churning through his body made him a little woozy, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. The stakes were as high as they were ever going to get.

  At some point during that bustling activity, a bearded man with deep-set eyes and a scowl that looked permanent showed up with the arrow. It was longer than Vidar was tall, with a shaft thicker than his wrist. With the dragon spike as its tip, the weapon looked deadly indeed. Even through the haze of rune crafting and with his whole body thrumming with essence retrieved and spent, Vidar could appreciate the craftmanship and skill that must’ve gone into creating it in such a short amount of time.

  “Thank you,” he said to the man bringing it, who only grunted and handed it to a group of soldiers Jarl had said he trusted with his life. They’d bring it to one of the ballistae and make sure it was ready.

  The night became a blur of feverish rune crafting, and by the time morning came around, the four of them were wading through algiz runes of all shapes and sizes, along with a few kenaz runes with leather straps to be fastened to foreheads, and some stakra ones for Vidar to carry for emergencies.

  First light was coming in through the windows and Vidar rubbed at his eyes and yawned. It was time. Sven and Erik lay snoring in Vidar’s bed, and Siv rested her head on top of the table she’d been working at all night. They deserved their rest, and he could not ask any more of them.

  “You’re done?”

  Vidar blinked and turned to the open double doors. He hadn’t even heard them opening. “Done,” he replied, gesturing to the algiz runes ordered in piles on the floor. “Put the large ones on the ballistae. The smaller pieces can be handed out to whoever you trust. If possible, I don’t want the guild to learn the design.”

  Jarl waved his hand, and the room filled with soldiers, who set to work carrying everything out to the coming field of battle. “I’m afraid such a secret will be impossible to keep with so many involved. The guild will learn of this soon.”

  “Figured,” Vidar said, stretching his arms over his head and yawning again. “I have more secrets.”

  Jarl raised an eyebrow.

  Vidar cleared his throat nervously. “No, I mean. Uh. Has the dragon been sighted yet?”

  “It still slumbers in the mountains to the east.”

  “What?” Vidar asked, dumbfounded. “It’s sleeping nearby?”

  “After the attack, it disappeared for several days, then returned. Rather than attacking again, it has kept its peace in its current location.”

  “Do you know where it went before its return?”

  Jarl shook his head and grunted, “We do not. What we do know is that neither Stalheim nor Norrekop has come under attack. The king himself thinks we’re either insane or lying in our reports. With the distance between our two cities, it takes runners a good long while to carry messages across.”

  Vidar couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “What?” Jarl asked.

  “I’m just tired,” Vidar said. “But the idea of someone informing the king of a dragon attack, and him thinking you’ve gone crazy, is a little amusing.”

  “I fail to see the humor in the situation,” Jarl said dryly.

  A horn blowing somewhere far off made them both fall silent. Vidar began to say something, but Jarl held up a finger, listening. The sound repeated in a different, closer location. Then it spread, sounding in all directions.

  Jarl looked down at Vidar with a searching but faraway expression on his face.

  “Is that…?” Vidar asked.

  “Dragon,” Jarl confirmed. “You were correct, Vidar. Good thing we caught you when we did.”

  “Where do we?—”

  Jarl was already running. “Follow me!”

  They made it to a spiral stone staircase and started upward. Up and up they climbed until each step made Vidar’s legs scream in protest. He was breathing hard while Jarl just kept gaining on him, taking the steps two or three at a time, almost flying.

  Vidar had long since lost sight of him when he finally emerged at the top. A thick but old wooden door stood open, and snow was blowing in from the outside. Emerging out into the open made Vidar’s vision spin. Even from the door, he saw everything, the entirety of Halmstadt spread out before him in miniature size, like a sea of little girls’ dollhouses.

  The wind whipped his hair and coat to the point Vidar found it difficult to remain standing, but soon he spotted Jarl standing by the parapet, holding a safety line of thick, braided rope.

  It was a clear day. The sights, not just of the town itself but of the mountains in the distance, the forests dotting the landscape and a great many fields covered in snow, and clusters of buildings everywhere beyond the wall, grabbed his attention. He’d never been outside Halmstadt, and the idea of living outside the walls deeply unsettled him.

  “There,” Jarl said, pointing.

  Vidar held up a hand to block out the wind and narrowed his eyes as he followed Jarl’s finger to a point in the distance. A spot of darkness against the otherwise clear skies stood out.

  “Are you sure?” Vidar asked, but the spot quickly grew as it approached at great speed. Soon, the faint sound of enormous wings reached their ears despite the whipping wind.

  “It’s really coming.”

  Jarl turned to him, then walked past in a hurry to reach the door.

  “Where are you going?” Vidar shouted after him.

  “To ready the troops for another battle. Follow!”

  “Me?” Vidar asked, shouting as he followed. “You want me down there with the dragon?”

  “You are in charge of the runes!”

  “They work without needing triggering.”

  Jarl stopped for a moment and looked back up the stairs. “That’s peculiar.”

  “I know.”

  “It changes nothing,” Jarl continued. “Follow!”

  They hurried down the stairs and Vidar felt like he was running to his doom. A live dragon. How was he supposed to do anything against that when he couldn’t even fight off a lowly thief? Still, he went. His lofty promise of defeating the beast himself still lingered in his mind. Even if things hadn’t gone his way with the negotiations, being known as the dragon slayer would come with benefits beyond his wildest dreams. He’d be untouchable, surely.

  Once they made it down and across to the other side of the keep, soldiers appeared en masse, running in all directions. None of them wore armor, he noticed, and when he asked Jarl, the reason was simple enough to be self-explanatory.

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  “What good is metal armor against a dragon that breathes fire?”

  By the time they made it outside and Vidar reached the first ballista to start inspecting the placements of the algiz runes, the dragon was already raining death upon Halmstadt. Like last time, its fiery breath torched houses all around Andersburg. Even from such a great distance, it was devastating to see the mayhem and destruction wrought by this ancient creature returned anew.

  Vidar didn’t want to see. Some of his friends were safe in the keep, but he hoped Ida and Alvarn were spared of the attacks. The dragon landed, just like last time, digging at the ground with its massive claws.

  Something was down there, Vidar realized, underground. From this great distance, it was impossible to tell where exactly the dragon touched down, and what part of the tunnel system might be beneath it. But he’d investigate as soon as this was over—if he survived—he promised himself.

  The dragon took to the air again and this time its head was trained on the keep. Again, something it wanted must lay deep beneath their feet. With its incredible speed, the monstrous creature approached, flying impossibly close to the rooftops. Fire preceded its landing, burning a wide swathe of soldiers. Only the few who wore Vidar’s algiz runes survived, and from the flickering, translucent light, those barriers would not withstand a second barrage. Soldiers screamed in terror and many broke ranks almost immediately, fleeing like cowards. Up close, like this, Vidar understood their cowardice and he himself half turned, as if to run. Only Jarl’s presence beside him kept Vidar planted firmly next to the ballista.

  The dragon was massive, towering over them all and reaching more than halfway up the keep’s wall as it strode across the open plaza, each step making the ground tremble.

  A deafening screech made Vidar put both hands over his ears from the pain. Brave soldiers rushed in along the ground and poked its enormous scaled legs to no avail. No matter how many times they made the attempt, the result was the same. Their metal could not pierce the scaled hide of the dragon. It retaliated by swiping with its forelegs, slicing men into bits and pieces or throwing them to the side while breathing up another storm of fire.

  “Why aren’t you firing?!” Vidar screamed, his voice shrill and panicked.

  Jarl stood with his sword drawn, glaring at the dragon like it’d insulted him. “It must get closer. We cannot change the positioning of the ballistae, nor their aim.”

  The very air warmed up by the dragon’s presence and the continuous use of fire to burn its enemies alive. Barriers failed left and right and Vidar didn’t have the first clue how to be of any help to the poor bastards fighting the thing.

  Finally, the dragon advanced to strike at the ground in front of the keep, its claws throwing up cobblestones and dirt.

  “First formation, shoot!” Jarl shouted.

  Three ballistae let loose from the dragon’s right flank, their arrows hurtling through the air over the heads of terrified soldiers doing their best to stay out of the way of the dragon’s digging. The heavy, metal-tipped projectiles slammed into the dragon with a thud and it let out another screech with fire to follow, bathing the offending ballistae in an inferno that melted the snow in a wide radius around them.

  Vidar saw the barrier runes flare to life on the constructions, only to be overpowered a mere moment later.

  “We need more algiz runes on this one,” he shouted, digging into his pockets to pile smaller runes on top of one of the wooden beams supporting the ballista carrying his own arrow. They’d punched into the dragon with enough force to give it a good shove, but they had not broken its skin. Instead, now, it raged, tossing its head this way and that, breathing fire again and again as the sound of wailing of soldiers dying all around Vidar rose to the sky. The other ballistae fired before the flames could reach them, but it did little good.

  “They didn’t work,” Jarl said, taking a step forward toward his dying men.

  “What are you doing?” Vidar asked, grabbing Jarl’s cloak. “You can’t go out there. It’s suicide!”

  The strength and size of the other man made Vidar’s feet skid against the slippery stones and he found himself being pulled forward and away from the safety of his considerable array of algiz runes.

  “Stop it!” Vidar cried.

  If Jarl died, the battle would be over. Vidar just knew it. “Stop moving, you stupid asshole!”

  Jarl turned with a snap. “They’re my men! What would you have me do?”

  “Shoot my arrow! Shoot it!”

  Just as Vidar screamed the word shoot, the dragon turned its head toward them and lowered it, opening its massive maw to reveal long teeth and something glowing deep inside its gullet. Vidar frowned, then widened his eyes and stepped out in front of Jarl as the dragon bathed them in fire.

  The heat was excruciating and the smell of burnt hair immediately reached Vidar’s nose. A multitude of barriers erected themselves in front of him. Many algiz runes drained immediately, but some lasted a little longer and a few even made it through the attack without breaking. They’d survived a direct attack, but they would not live through another.

  Thankfully, the dragon turned away immediately after, perhaps thinking them burned to death already, and there were plenty of other pesky humans to slaughter.

  Jarl grabbed hold of Vidar and together they retreated back behind the ballistae.

  Before they even made it to safety, Vidar was rejuvenating the spent algiz runes using the styrka rune in the palm of his hand. The thing was helping him so much already, he almost didn’t regret getting burned. Almost.

  “Shoot! All of you, shoot!” Jarl bellowed.

  His order was repeated throughout the ranks, and every cluster of ballistae released a storm of giant arrows to strike into the towering dragon before them. Vidar saw the attacks launch and most of them land on the stationary dragon, who just shrieked in anger and released another bout of fire to burn through the thinning ranks of soldiers. In its agitation, it spun and, for the first time, used its long tail to swipe at those trying to flank the beast, skewering them on sharp bone spikes that left soldiers stuck and screaming for their lives.

  Then, finally, the ballista carrying Vidar’s arrow let loose. The arrow flew true and slammed into the dragon, right behind its left foreleg, and penetrated its thick scaled hide.

  “That’s what you get for messing with me!” Vidar screamed, pointing up at the beast.

  The arrow made it through its defenses and even half the haft disappeared into its body. It let out another bellowing sound, this one a cry of pain, if Vidar wasn’t mistaken. The dragon tilted a little, and for a brief moment, Vidar thought he saw a flicker of movement on top of its back, but then it shifted its weight again.

  At first, it looked like the dragon was about to collapse, but then it righted itself and that monstrous head slowly turned toward Vidar, who froze in place as two yellow, slitted eyes met with his. The dragon knew it’d been him who injured it. What foolishness to think a single arrow would fell the beast. Vidar had been so sure of himself after seeing the one embedded in the skeleton underground, so certain he’d found what he needed to end this nightmare and rise above the mud of Andersburg.

  The dragon’s maw opened and Vidar could only stare as he got another look at the glowing that started deep inside its throat. It was beautiful. Fire roared and spewed out from the dragon’s mouth, hurtling straight for Vidar, who knew his algiz runes would be no match for this second attack, rejuvenated or not.

  Something barreled into him and Vidar fell to the ground in a tangle with the man who’d saved him. Jarl.

  “It didn’t work,” Vidar whispered as the stench of burning flesh rose all around them. Jarl had pushed them out from the worst of it, and Vidar’s runes had done the rest. Now they were spent, and they both lay there, unprotected.

  “Later!” Jarl shouted, pulling Vidar to his feet. “We have to retreat before it burns us all!”

  From the look of things around them, they were much too late. Few men remained on their feet and fewer still were unharmed. The dragon moved forward with nothing more than a slight limp to crush a man who just stood there, staring up at the sky, his weapon on the ground before him. He didn’t make a sound as his bones crunched between the dragon’s massive leg and the stone beneath his feet.

  “Fall back!” Jarl screamed. “Into the keep!”

  The damn dragon followed, and Vidar wracked his brain for some way out of this. If he only survived, not everything was lost. This could still be salvaged. Somehow.

  Jarl was pushing the few remaining soldiers still able to walk in front of him while Vidar lagged behind, unable to keep up. None of them would make it. The dragon was much too fast.

  Its breath was hot on Vidar’s neck and he thought the end would come at any moment. Peering back over his shoulder, he saw the dragon opening its mouth, ready to snap Vidar up and end his life with a single chomp. Not looking ahead, he stumbled and fell to the stone. The sharp pain in his knees was welcome, because his fumble meant the dragon’s jaw snapped shut on nothing but air. The others were halfway to the keep’s entrance and relative safety by then, leaving Vidar alone to scrabble on hands and feet, trying to get away.

  In his desperate frenzy, Vidar searched for a way to save himself. Any way. His hand touched something not made of stone. He looked down, his eyes wide. A hatch! A way out of this mess.

  But it was too late. The dragon was rearing its head back in a motion that Vidar now recognized as the start of a flame breath. Soon, long before he got the hatch open, he would be burned, his life snuffed out, leaving nothing than a charred husk.

  “No!” Vidar shouted, anger rising in his chest momentarily quenching the fear. “No!”

  The dragon took no heed of his words, but that didn’t matter. Vidar let what little remained in his styrka rune surge into him and then to the first rune his searching fingers found in his pockets. A sowilo rune. He groaned, having hoped to find a kenaz rune. A flash of light might blind the dragon for long enough that Vidar might make his escape.

  Then it dawned on him. This was better. Far better. With the sowilo rune close to bursting, he triggered it as he stood to meet the dragon’s fire. Before the flames could escape the dragon’s throat, Vidar threw the sowilo rune with all his might, right at the dragon’s head.

  The puny attack seemed to confuse it for a brief moment, then it reacted out of instinct, and snapped the object out of the air.

  BOOM.

  The dragon’s teeth broke the triggered sowilo rune, resulting in an explosion powerful enough to throw Vidar onto his back. Hearing the dragon shriek in pain and anger, Vidar fumbled with the key and finally got it into the lock. Throwing the hatch open, he slid down. Then, finally, he dared a look.

  The dragon was bleeding from its mouth, some of its teeth were broken, and it was shaking its head, as if dazed. Then it moved with surprising speed, striking out with its right foreleg at Vidar’s location. The arrow still stuck above its left leg saved Vidar’s life as it delayed the attack by a fraction of a second, allowing him to duck down before the ground all around his location was torn apart, the hatch included.

  Stone and dirt rained down upon his head and shoulders. It almost made him fall, but he desperately held on to the rungs and wedged himself stuck between the ladder and the wall behind his back. He heard the dragon roar in frustration and then fire filled the air over the tunnel, some of it even reaching down to lick at his hair. Vidar yelped and lost his footing. He slipped and with one injured hand, he wasn’t able to hold on.

  Vidar tumbled into darkness, screaming at the top of his lungs.