Borin's unsettling departure left a heavy silence in the cell, thick with the implications of his words. Eradication. Ancient dwarven factions. Technologies designed to counter specific bloodlines. Lunrik felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the detention level. If Borin's speculation held even a kernel of truth, the unknown hunters represented an existential threat far exceeding Magdra's ambitions or Kaedor's curse-fueled rage. They weren't just another player in the game; they might be trying to sweep the board clean of anyone like him.
Kaelith looked equally disturbed, her usual composure shaken. "Ancient dwarven exiles? Technology to destroy cursed bloodlines?" she murmured, pacing the small cell restlessly. "Faelan spoke of dwarven pride, their isolation, their Great Schism that shattered alliances centuries ago… but never legends like that."
"Perhaps they were legends Borin wasn't meant to share," Lunrik mused grimly. "Or perhaps he shared them deliberately. To gauge our reaction. To subtly align us further with Grimfang's interests by presenting a potentially greater, shared enemy." Dwarven politics, he was quickly learning, were likely as complex and layered as their engineering.
"Either way," Kaelith said, stopping her pacing, "it means we cannot trust the hunters' motives. If they capture Eryndor…"
"They might not keep him alive for long," Lunrik finished grimly. "If their goal is eradication." This added a terrifying new urgency to Eryndor's situation. While dwarven 'assessment' was worrying, capture by the hunters could be a death sentence.
Their conversation was interrupted by the hiss of the cell door opening yet again. This time, it was the two impassive wardens.
"Surface-Gamma-Two," the brown-bearded warden addressed Kaelith. "You will come with us. Forgemaster Borin requires your tracking expertise for analysis of anomalous surface residue near the Gate perimeter."
Kaelith glanced at Lunrik, a flicker of unease in her eyes at being separated again, especially after Borin's revelations. But she nodded calmly to the warden. "Understood." She gave Lunrik a brief, meaningful look – stay safe, stay alert – before following the wardens out, the door sealing behind her.
Lunrik was alone again, the cell suddenly feeling much colder, much smaller. He disliked this separation, this deliberate isolation by the dwarves. It prevented them from sharing information freely, kept them off balance. He wondered what 'anomalous residue' Borin wanted Kaelith to examine. Left by the hunters' phasing tech? Or something else entirely?
He spent the next cycle – or what felt like it – in restless solitude. He practiced basic movements, testing his healing ankle (much improved), stretching his bruised muscles. He examined the dwarven axe Borin had provided, familiarizing himself with its weight and balance, practicing grip changes. Alaric's ghost offered silent commentary on technique, comparing the axe to Banehallow training swords. Lunrik pushed the comparisons away, focusing on the dwarven weapon, the tool he might need to rely on.
His solitude was finally broken by the return of the wardens, escorting Kaelith back to the cell. She looked tired, her brow furrowed in thought, but unharmed.
"What did they want?" Lunrik asked immediately as the door closed.
"Residue near where the hunters' portal opened," Kaelith explained, sinking onto her slab. "Strange stuff. Not natural. Like fine, metallic dust mixed with crystallized energy… faintly smelled of ozone, like their weapons. Borin and Gyra were collecting samples, taking readings. They asked me if the scent or residue matched anything in Dravenwolf lore, any natural phenomena. I told them no." She shook her head. "They seem convinced it's technological residue from the phasing effect, but… it felt odd, Lunrik. Ancient, almost, despite the tech." Borin's legends echoed in her words.
"So, they're still focused on the hunters," Lunrik mused. "That's good, perhaps. Keeps their attention diverted."
"For now," Kaelith agreed. "But Borin also mentioned increased Ashfang probe activity further down the glacier. Grakkus might be gone, but Magdra isn't giving up. They're likely searching for the trail Vorlag was following, or trying to pinpoint the Gate through triangulation."
Just as they were digesting this news, the door opened again. This time, it was a different dwarf, one Lunrik hadn't seen before. He was younger, less stern than Borin or the wardens, wearing the insignia of the Loremasters' Guild – perhaps an apprentice or scribe under Thrain. He carried a data slate and addressed Lunrik respectfully, though formally.
"Surface-Gamma-Three," the young loremaster said. "High Loremaster Thrain requests your presence in the Archives Minor. He wishes to consult you regarding… certain historical Banehallow affiliations potentially relevant to current surface conflicts."
Lunrik exchanged a surprised look with Kaelith. Thrain himself wanted to consult him? About historical affiliations? This felt different from Borin's tactical briefings or Gyra's technical probes. This felt… potentially more revealing. And more dangerous. Delving into Banehallow history could easily expose the Alaric connection if he wasn't careful.
"Alone?" Lunrik asked.
The loremaster nodded. "The High Loremaster's request was specific to you."
Kaelith gave him a subtle nod. Go. Learn what you can.
Lunrik rose, apprehension warring with curiosity. He followed the young loremaster out of the cell, leaving Kaelith alone once more. They took the lift upwards again, this time to a level higher than the administrative floor, reaching a sector filled with quiet halls, arched doorways, and the faint, dry scent of ancient parchment and preservation runes. The Archives Minor.
The young loremaster led him to a secluded study, smaller than the Chamber of Inquiry, lined floor-to-ceiling with countless scrolls, bound volumes, and glowing crystal data repositories. High Loremaster Thrain sat at a heavy stone desk, seemingly engrossed in an ancient, crumbling tome. He looked up as Lunrik entered, his ancient eyes sharp and assessing.
"Ah, the Banehallow-marked," Thrain greeted him mildly, gesturing for the young loremaster to leave them. The door closed silently, leaving Lunrik alone with the most powerful political figure he'd met in Grimfang Deep. "Thank you for attending me on short notice."
"You summoned me, High Loremaster," Lunrik replied respectfully, remaining standing.
"Indeed." Thrain set aside the tome. "I have been cross-referencing your fragmented information with our own limited records regarding surface affairs, particularly Ashfang clan history and known Banehallow alliances or rivalries over the centuries." He steepled his fingers. "Magdra Ashgrim's interest in the Skyrend Peaks is not entirely new. Her lineage has made claims, fought skirmishes over foothill territories for generations, often clashing with Frostmanes… and occasionally, testing Grimfang's borders, always unsuccessfully."
He paused, his gaze intent. "What my records lack, however, is nuance regarding recent Banehallow internal politics, specifically under your predecessor, Kaedor, and the ruler he deposed… Alaric Banehallow."
Lunrik froze, his blood running cold. Thrain had named him. Alaric. Did he know? Was this a trap?
Thrain seemed to sense his sudden tension. "Relax, werewolf," he said calmly. "Your personal history, however… convoluted… is secondary to my current inquiry, unless it directly impacts Magdra's motivations or potential alliances." He leaned forward slightly. "Alaric Banehallow. Records paint him as ruthless, ambitious, effective in the Throne Wars until his… abrupt demise. What do your fragmented memories tell you of his potential dealings? Did he ever show interest in the Skyrend Peaks, in dwarven legends, in technologies beyond standard Lykandran capabilities? Did he have dealings, hostile or otherwise, with Solaris, or harbor suspicions about powers beyond the known continent?"
This was incredibly dangerous ground. Thrain was probing the specific knowledge Alaric would possess, testing the limits of Lunrik's 'fragmented memory' persona. Revealing too much could expose him completely. Hiding too much might arouse suspicion or withhold information genuinely useful to the dwarves.
Lunrik chose his words with extreme care, dredging up genuine fragments of Alaric's perspective while framing them carefully. "The memories… they show Alaric focused primarily on consolidating power within Lykandra, on managing the clans, on the immediate threat of the Throne Wars." He deliberately omitted Alaric's deeper ambitions. "He viewed the Peaks as strategically marginal, dwarven legends as irrelevant folklore, much like his father Lycador apparently did." This part was true. "Solaris… he viewed them with suspicion, as the source of the curse, a potential magical threat, but direct conflict was avoided. As for powers beyond the continent…" He recalled the dismissed rumor. "Only vague sailor's tales of the 'Argent Imperium', dismissed as fantasy."
He watched Thrain closely for any reaction. The High Loremaster remained impassive, absorbing the information.
"So, Alaric himself presented no direct threat or unusual interest towards Grimfang Deep or technologies like those wielded by the hunters?" Thrain clarified.
"Not according to the memories I possess," Lunrik confirmed, hoping the qualification sounded convincing. "His focus was internal. His enemies were his own kin, the other clans vying for the throne."
Thrain sat back, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. "Interesting. This contradicts certain… whispers… intercepted by our deep-range sensors prior to Alaric's fall. Faint energy signatures, unusual communication patterns originating from the Lykandran capital, hinting at… external consultations. Unidentified technological resonance. Dismissed at the time as atmospheric interference or perhaps Silverhowl experimentation." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Perhaps Alaric was more… complex… than surface records suggest. Or perhaps someone else in his court was pursuing such avenues without his knowledge?"
Lunrik felt a chill. External consultations? Unidentified tech resonance? Had Alaric been involved in something deeper after all? Or was Thrain bluffing, trying to provoke a reaction, testing Lunrik's knowledge? Or could it have been… Malakor? Velryn's father, the powerful Silverhowl Archon who Lunrik now knew had ambitions beyond Lykandra and questionable methods… had he been operating secretly within Alaric's court?
"My memories offer no insight into such specifics, High Loremaster," Lunrik maintained carefully.
Thrain nodded slowly. "Perhaps." He changed tack abruptly. "Your companion, the Dravenwolf. Borin reports she possesses exceptional skill and knowledge of the Peaks' surface terrain, likely inherited from Faelan Woodwise. Her loyalty to you is… notable."
Lunrik tensed slightly. "Kaelith is pack. We grew up together."
"Indeed." Thrain's gaze was penetrating. "Yet her skills are now essential to our border security. And your unique resonance is vital to Master Gyra's research into the hunters' technology." He leaned forward again. "An idea has been presented to the Council, werewolf. A divergence of paths, perhaps, but one that serves Grimfang's immediate needs while potentially accelerating your own objectives, such as they are."
Lunrik waited, apprehension growing. What divergence?
"Magdra Ashgrim must be stopped from reaching the Whispering Ice Pass," Thrain stated firmly. "Eryndor Frostmane's knowledge, however fragmented, remains the key. We cannot risk Magdra acquiring it, nor can we risk the hunters acquiring him. Therefore, Eryndor must be moved from his current assessment location to a place of absolute security deep within Grimfang – the Vault of Sealed Knowledge." He paused. "The route is complex, requiring navigation through restricted, ancient sectors. Faelan Woodwise's granddaughter, with her knowledge of natural passages intersecting our lower levels, is deemed the most suitable guide for the escort team."
He was separating them again, sending Kaelith on a vital, secret mission deep within the mountain with Eryndor, while Lunrik remained… where?
"And my role, High Loremaster?" Lunrik asked, dread coiling in his gut.
Thrain met his gaze directly. "You, Banehallow-marked, possess the energy signature that interests Master Gyra. You also possess tactical insights, however fragmented, into werewolf behavior and potentially these hunters. You will remain here, under Master Gyra's and Forgemaster Borin's direct supervision. You will assist Gyra in analyzing the hunter technology. You will assist Borin in planning defensive countermeasures against both Ashfang and potential hunter incursions."
He paused, letting the weight of the decision settle. "Your paths must diverge, for now. Kaelith ensures the Frostmane's knowledge is secured. You help us understand and counter the immediate threats at our border. Both tasks are vital. Both are conditions of your continued sanctuary."
It was a command, not a request. A calculated move, separating their strengths, utilizing them for different dwarven priorities. Lunrik felt trapped, the chains of cooperation tightening into bonds of servitude. Separated from Kaelith, unable to protect Eryndor directly, forced to cooperate with Gyra's potentially invasive research and Borin's military planning… his path forward felt suddenly much darker, lonelier, and more dangerous, lost deep within the stone heart of the dwarves' cold calculations.