The prospect of accompanying a dwarven military unit into direct conflict with Grakkus's Ashfang pack sent a jolt through Lunrik, overriding his weariness. This was a sharp escalation from reconnaissance. The "conditional arrangement" was proving to be far more demanding, far more dangerous, than he had initially grasped. He glanced at Kaelith; her expression remained carefully neutral, but he saw the tension tighten around her eyes. Frontline combat against forty werewolves, alongside dwarves whose tactics and tolerance for 'surface dwellers' were complete unknowns, was a terrifying proposition.
"Accompanying them?" Lunrik questioned Gyra carefully, trying to gauge the dwarves' intent. "In what capacity, Master Artificer? As scouts? Advisors? Or… combatants?"
Gyra waved a dismissive hand, already turning back to her consoles. "Your specific tactical deployment falls under Forgemaster Borin's operational command. He recognizes the value of your companion's tracking skills in locating Grakkus swiftly, and your… unique perspective… on werewolf pack tactics might prove useful in anticipating their movements or countering their aggression." She didn't explicitly say 'combatants', but the implication was clear. They wouldn't be expected to merely observe. "Primarily, your presence ensures alignment of purpose. Grimfang Deep deals with the immediate Ashfang threat; you assist, thereby fulfilling your end of the bargain regarding border security. Simple kinetics."
Simple kinetics. Lunrik doubted anything involving dwarves, werewolves, glaciers, and potentially dragons or unknown hunters was ever truly simple.
"When do we leave?" Kaelith asked, her voice practical, cutting through Lunrik's apprehension.
"Immediately," Gyra replied without looking up. "Borin's detachment, the Iron Guard, is mobilizing now at the forward staging area near the Gate. You will be escorted there for final briefing and outfitting." She tapped a command into her console. "The wardens will return you."
As if summoned, the two impassive dwarven wardens reappeared at the workshop door. Gyra gave them brief instructions in guttural Dwarven, likely relaying their new assignment. There was no further discussion, no room for negotiation. They were cogs in the dwarven war machine now, expected to function as directed.
The journey back towards the Cog Gate felt different yet again. The weight of impending battle settled heavily upon Lunrik. Alaric's ghost stirred, not with fear, but with a familiar, cold thrill – the anticipation of combat, the strategic assessment of upcoming conflict. Iron Guard detachment… Estimate size, equipment, tactics. Ashfang force under Grakkus… Strengths: numbers, ferocity, crinos form. Weaknesses: likely poor discipline, vulnerable to terrain/superior tech, potentially demoralized after Vorlag's fate. Our role: flanking maneuvers? Targeted strikes utilizing Kaelith's stealth and my… adaptable combat style? Need better weaponry.
Lunrik glanced down at his simple hunting knife. Utterly inadequate. He thought of the damaged energy rifle, currently being dissected by Gyra's technicians. Would Borin provide them with dwarven weapons? Or expect them to fight with tooth and claw?
They reached the staging area near the Gate – a large, utilitarian chamber carved from the rock, bustling with activity. Perhaps twenty dwarves, clad in the same heavy, articulated plate armour as the Gate Wardens, were checking equipment, securing ammo canisters, and receiving final instructions from Forgemaster Borin, who stood before a large, glowing tactical map projected onto the wall. These were the Iron Guard. Their armour was functional, scarred from previous use, lacking the ceremonial polish of palace guards. They moved with grim, disciplined efficiency, their faces set, their braided beards tucked securely into their armour. Their steam-projector weapons looked heavy, potent, utterly dwarven.
Borin spotted Lunrik and Kaelith as they entered with their escorts. He acknowledged them with a curt nod, finishing his instructions to his squad leaders before turning his attention fully towards them.
"Surface dwellers," he began, his voice resonating in the chamber. "Your objective remains aligned with ours: neutralizing the Ashfang threat under Commander Grakkus before they interfere further with Grimfang Deep's borders or objectives." He pointed towards the tactical map, which showed the glacier basin, the ice caves, and the projected path of the Ashfang reinforcements. "Grakkus's main force is currently holding position near the ice caves, likely awaiting reports from scouts or attempting to locate the Frostmane's trail. Scouts – like the ones you encountered – are attempting to secure the surrounding ridges."
He zoomed in on a specific area southwest of the Ashfang camp, indicating a series of narrow ice canyons and crevasses. "Standard Ashfang tactics under a brute like Grakkus will involve a direct, aggressive push once they commit. Predictable. We will not meet them head-on. The Iron Guard will utilize kinetic resonators and steam projectors to control the terrain here," he indicated the canyons, "funneling their main force into a prepared kill zone. Avalanches are… a distinct possibility." His grim smile suggested this was intentional.
"Your role," he continued, fixing his gaze on Kaelith first, "Dravenwolf, will be forward reconnaissance. Move ahead of the main detachment. Use your skills to pinpoint Grakkus's precise vanguard position and scout their immediate approach path through the canyons. Report back via communicator. Avoid direct engagement unless absolutely necessary."
He then turned to Lunrik. "Banehallow-marked. Your… familiarity with werewolf pack dynamics is noted. You will remain with the main Iron Guard detachment, providing tactical insight to my second-in-command, Captain Brokk." He gestured towards a particularly grim-faced dwarf whose armour bore captain's markings. "Advise him on likely Ashfang reactions, potential flanking maneuvers, vulnerabilities in their crinos form you might perceive." He paused. "Should direct combat become unavoidable for the main unit, you will… contribute." The expectation was clear.
"Equipment," Borin continued, gesturing towards a waiting armourer dwarf. "Standard issue thermal cloaks, climbing gear adequate for glacier conditions. Weapons…" He hesitated, eyeing Lunrik's knife, then Kaelith's. "Your primitive blades are insufficient. The Artificer's Guild has provided… alternatives."
The armourer presented them each with a dwarven weapon. Not the complex steam projectors the Iron Guard carried, but sturdy, well-balanced war axes forged from dark steel, their heads shaped like stylized boar tusks, runes glowing faintly along the hafts. They felt heavy, solid, brutally effective.
"Boar's Tooth pattern axes," Borin explained. "Standard secondary armament for tunnel fighters. Durable. Effective against hide and bone." He also handed Kaelith a dwarven crossbow, heavier and more powerful than her Dravenwolf longbow, along with a quiver of heavy, armour-piercing bolts. "For ranged support."
Lunrik hefted the axe. It felt good in his hand, solid, reliable in a way the alien energy rifle hadn't. Alaric's muscle memory recognized the balance, the potential for devastating impact. This, at least, was a weapon he understood.
"Captain Brokk will command the main detachment," Borin concluded. "I will oversee the operation from the Gate command center via sensor relays and communicator links. Remember the timeframe. Remember the arrangement." He gave them a final, stern look. "Do not fail Grimfang Deep. The consequences would be… severe."
With that, he turned back to his tactical map, the briefing concluded. Captain Brokk gave Lunrik and Kaelith a curt, assessing nod, then barked orders in Dwarven, and the Iron Guard detachment began moving out, filing into the tunnel leading back towards the Cog Gate, their heavy armoured tread echoing off the stone.
Lunrik and Kaelith exchanged another look. They were armed, equipped after a fashion, given a specific, dangerous role in a dwarven military operation. It was a far cry from their initial plan of simply finding Eryndor. They were now effectively soldiers in Grimfang Deep's preemptive border war against Magdra Ashgrim's forces.
Kaelith gave Lunrik's arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. "Watch yourself, Lunrik. Stay near Brokk. Dwarven formations are tight; don't get caught underfoot."
"You too, Kaelith," he replied, his voice low. "Forward scout is the most dangerous position. Trust your instincts. Report, don't engage."
She nodded, then melted away, moving ahead of the main dwarven column with silent Dravenwolf grace, disappearing into the shadows of the tunnel towards the Gate, ready to face the dangers of the glacier alone once more.
Lunrik took his place near the grim-faced Captain Brokk as the Iron Guard marched forward. The heavy axe felt like a tangible weight in his hand, a symbol of the brutal necessity ahead. He was surrounded by heavily armoured, heavily armed dwarves, heading towards a battle against forty enraged werewolves on treacherous glacial terrain. Alaric's ghost offered cold calculations, Lunrik's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and grim resolve, and somewhere ahead, Kaelith ran alone into the storm. The cold calculations of the dwarves had led them here; only instinct, courage, and perhaps luck would see them through the crucible ahead.