The colossal Cog Gate ground shut behind them with a resounding boom that echoed deep into the mountain, sealing them inside Grimfang Deep. The sudden cessation of the howling wind and biting cold was almost disorienting. The air within the tunnel was warm, thick with the smell of oiled metal, coal smoke, geothermal heat, and something else Lunrik couldn't place – a deep, earthy scent like minerals and ancient stone. The steady yellow glow from the wall panels cast long, sharp shadows, making the four heavily armoured dwarven guards look even more intimidating.
They stood in a wide, perfectly cylindrical tunnel that stretched straight into the mountain's heart as far as Lunrik could see. The polished metal floor plates hummed faintly beneath their boots. Pipes and conduits pulsed with contained energy along the walls and ceiling. This wasn't a rough cave; it was a major artery of dwarven engineering, ancient yet meticulously maintained.
"Move!" Forgemaster Borin snapped, his gravelly voice cutting through Lunrik's momentary awe. "Deeper inside. You will not linger on the threshold." He gestured impatiently down the tunnel.
Two of the armoured guards moved immediately to flank Lunrik and Kaelith, their steam-powered weapons held loosely but ready, their helmeted heads turning constantly, scanning the tunnel ahead and behind. The other two remained at the sealed Cog Gate, presumably monitoring external sensors or securing the entrance mechanism.
Lunrik shifted Eryndor's weight again – the Frostmane heir was starting to groan more consistently, showing signs of returning consciousness, which might be more trouble than it was worth right now. He exchanged a wary glance with Kaelith. They were inside, safe from the immediate external threats, but their situation felt precarious. They were surface dwellers, werewolves, trespassers in a kingdom legendary for its hostility towards outsiders. Their reluctant admittance felt less like sanctuary and more like being moved from one cage to another.
They walked deeper into the mountain, escorted by the two guards, Forgemaster Borin leading the way with a stern, impatient stride. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, occasionally branching into smaller passages sealed with heavy metal doors or energy fields, glimpses of vast caverns or complex machinery sometimes visible through reinforced viewing ports. The sheer scale of the place was staggering. Alaric's memories of Lykandra's grandest palaces seemed almost quaint in comparison to this raw, industrial power carved into the mountain's core.
"Where are you taking us?" Kaelith asked cautiously, her voice low, addressing Forgemaster Borin's back.
"To holding," Borin grunted without turning around. "Until the Gate incident is assessed, your identities confirmed, and your purpose within Grimfang Deep… interrogated." The word hung heavy in the warm, humming air. "Surface conflicts are not the concern of the Mountain King, but unknown technological threats attempting to breach our borders are."
"Those hunters," Lunrik pressed, deciding honesty might be their only slim hope. "They weren't with us. They pursued us after attacking Ashfang forces who held this one captive." He indicated Eryndor. "They use energy weapons, advanced tracking. They scanned for… Banehallow emissions."
Borin stopped abruptly, turning to face them, his sharp eyes narrowing again. The two guards instantly tensed, their weapons shifting slightly. "Banehallow emissions?" he repeated slowly, the name clearly holding significance. "You carry the cursed blood, wolf?" His gaze fixed intently on Lunrik, specifically on his gloved hand where the Stigma lay hidden.
Lunrik felt exposed, vulnerable. He didn't answer directly, but met the Forgemaster's piercing gaze. "My companion and I both bear the mark of heirs," he stated carefully, including Kaelith in a gamble, hoping solidarity might offer some protection, though he knew she wasn't marked. It was a risk, but admitting his own cursed status alone felt even more dangerous.
Kaelith shot him a sharp, surprised look but didn't contradict him, perhaps sensing the desperate strategy.
Borin studied them both for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Two marked heirs," he mused, stroking his beard. "Fleeing Ashfang and unknown hunters wielding energy tech, leading them inadvertently to a sealed Gate…" He grunted. "Curiouser and curiouser. The Guild Council will wish to hear this." He seemed less immediately hostile now, his engineer's curiosity or perhaps political suspicion overriding his initial distrust. "And the energy rifle you carry?" He nodded towards the weapon slung over Lunrik's shoulder. "Spoils from these hunters?"
"Their leader fell," Lunrik said simply, offering no further details of the dragon encounter unless necessary. "The weapon seems damaged or depleted."
Borin nodded slowly. "It will be examined." He turned and resumed walking, his pace slightly less hurried now. "Tell me more about these 'hunters'. Their appearance? Insignia?"
Lunrik and Kaelith described the sleek, dark uniforms, the lack of identifying marks, the cold efficiency, the scanner technology, the energy net, the rifle's effects. Borin listened intently, occasionally asking sharp, technical questions about the energy signatures or the equipment's perceived function. He offered no information in return, merely absorbed their report with grim concentration.
As they walked, the main tunnel began to open up. They passed vast workshops filled with the clang of hammers on metal, the roar of forges, the hiss of steam engines. Dwarves, clad in practical leather aprons or guild-specific attire, paused in their work to stare openly at the escorted surface dwellers, their expressions ranging from hostile suspicion to grudging curiosity. Lunrik felt the weight of hundreds of unfriendly eyes upon them, the sheer pressure of being outsiders in this closed, ancient society.
The tunnel finally emerged into an immense cavern, so vast Lunrik couldn't see the ceiling high above, lost in steam and shadow. This was clearly a central hub. Walkways crisscrossed the space at multiple levels. Pneumatic tubes hissed overhead. Massive lifts ascended and descended along the cavern walls. And dominating the center, built vertically around a colossal, glowing geothermal core that pulsed with immense heat and power – the "Heart Vent" perhaps? – was a city. A city of interlocking metal structures, gears, pipes, bridges, and towers, all glowing with internal light, humming with contained energy. Aethelburg. The Cog City. It was breathtaking, terrifying, and utterly alien.
"Halt," Borin commanded as they reached a guarded checkpoint before a major lift platform. He conferred briefly with the checkpoint guards, gesturing towards Lunrik, Kaelith, and the now groaning Eryndor. Documents were checked, authorizations seemingly given.
"Level seventy-two. Detention block gamma," Borin instructed the lift operator, a dwarf encased in a complex harness of levers and gauges. To Lunrik and Kaelith, he said, "You will be confined separately. Questioning will commence shortly. Do not attempt resistance. Grimfang Deep's hospitality is… limited."
They were ushered onto the lift platform along with their two guards. Eryndor, finally regaining some semblance of consciousness, looked around the vast cavern, at the impossible city, his eyes wide with bewildered terror before squeezing shut again as if unable to comprehend the scale of it.
As the lift began its smooth, rapid descent into the depths of the Cog City, plunging them deeper under the mountain's immense weight, Lunrik felt a profound sense of isolation. They had escaped the immediate dangers of the surface only to be swallowed by the ancient, technologically advanced, and deeply suspicious kingdom of the dwarves.
They were cut off, prisoners, their fates now subject to the judgments of the Mountain King and the Guild Council, whose history with Banehallows and surface dwellers was likely steeped in bitterness and distrust. The weight of the mountain felt heavier than ever, pressing down not just physically, but politically and existentially. Their quest for Eryndor had led them into the heart of a power struggle far older and potentially more intractable than the one they had left behind.