The Legacy of Frost and Shadow: The Frozen Awakening

"Now," Brian whispered, his voice a cold, deadly command, echoing off the damp stone walls. "We strike."

But before any of them could react, Brad moved. He was a blur, a shadow given lethal form. Two Rubaks, who had been stacking crates near the tunnel entrance, crumpled without a sound, their throats slit by Brad's wickedly sharp, short hunting blades. He didn't pause, didn't celebrate. He whirled, and a third Rubak, who had been reaching for a horn to sound the alarm, found Brad's blade buried to the hilt in his chest. The man didn't even have time to gasp.

Brian, even faster, was already moving, his longer blade a whisper of steel in the flickering torchlight. He engaged the largest Rubak, clearly the leader of the small contingent, a brute with a scarred face and a massive, two-handed axe. The Rubak roared, swinging the axe in a wide, deadly arc, but Brian was already inside his guard, his blade a silver flash. A choked gurgle, a gout of blood, and the Rubak leader's head rolled across the stone floor, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. Brian, without missing a beat, spun, his blade finding the throat of another Rubak who was foolish enough to charge him.

Liam, initially stunned by the sheer speed and brutality of the attack, shook himself into action. He saw two Rubaks, momentarily disoriented by the sudden onslaught, turning to flee back towards the tunnel entrance. His tunnel entrance. He wouldn't let them escape, wouldn't let them warn the others.

He moved, channeling a faint surge of coldness, enhancing his speed, his "frost-step" footwork carrying him forward with an unnatural grace. He intercepted the first Rubak, his mithril short sword darting out, piercing the warrior's back just below the shoulder blade. The Rubak cried out, a short, sharp sound that was quickly cut off as Liam twisted the blade and ripped it free. The second Rubak, seeing his comrade fall, hesitated for a fraction of a second, fear flickering in his eyes. That hesitation was all Liam needed. He lunged, his blade finding the gap in the Rubak's crude armor, sinking deep into his chest.

The remaining Rubaks, realizing they were outmatched, their initial surprise replaced by panic, began to scatter, some trying to fight, others trying to flee deeper into the chamber. But Brian and Brad were relentless, moving like twin predators through the chaos, cutting down any who resisted. Their movements were a terrifying ballet of death, a display of honed skill and ruthless efficiency.

Within moments, it was over. The dozen Rubak warriors lay dead or dying, their blood staining the stone floor, mingling with the dust and the scattered supplies. The silence that followed was broken only by the crackling of the torches and the ragged breathing of the three Volgunder warriors.

Brian, his blade dripping with blood, surveyed the scene, his expression grim but satisfied. "Secure the perimeter," he said, his voice low and calm. "Check for any… stragglers."

Brad, already moving, began to systematically search the chamber, checking behind crates, under tarpaulins, ensuring that no Rubaks remained alive. Liam, his heart still pounding, his body trembling with the aftermath of the fight, sheathed his short sword and joined the search.

It was then, as he moved past the stacks of supplies, that he noticed it. At the far end of the chamber, set into the solid rock wall, was a massive gate. It wasn't made of wood or iron, but of some dark, unfamiliar metal, its surface smooth and cold to the touch. Strange symbols, unlike anything he'd seen before, even in the grimoire, were etched into its surface, pulsing with a faint, almost imperceptible energy. It was a portal, clearly, but to where?

"Brian," Liam said, his voice a hushed whisper. "Look at this."

Brian and Brad approached, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of the gate. It was imposing, ominous, radiating a sense of… wrongness… that made the hairs on the back of Liam's neck stand on end.

"What in the…" Brian murmured, his hand reaching out to touch the cold metal.

As his fingers brushed against the surface, a figure materialized from thin air, appearing directly in front of the gate with a faint pop and a shimmer of distorted air. It was a Rubak warrior, but unlike any they had seen before. He was taller, leaner, his face not painted, but marked with intricate, swirling tattoos that seemed to writhe and shift in the torchlight. He wore a cloak made from the hide of some unknown beast, and his eyes… his eyes glowed with a faint, reddish light.

Befor he could react, with speed that seemed to defy human limitations, Liam's mithril short sword, which was pointing down, changed position and was now at the Rubak's neck.

The Rubak froze, his glowing eyes widening in surprise. He looked down at the blade, then up at Liam, a flicker of… something… crossing his face. It wasn't fear, not exactly. It was more like… curiosity.

"Well, well," the Rubak said, his voice a low, guttural growl, surprisingly fluent in Drakonian. "What have we here?"

"A dead man," Brian said, his voice cold and hard, his own blade now pointed at the Rubak's back. "Unless you tell us what we want to know."

The Rubak chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "You think you can intimidate me, Volgunder?" he said. "I am a servant of Veigard. A warrior of the Frozen Wind. I fear nothing."

"We'll see about that," Brad said, his voice devoid of any emotion. He stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the Rubak, his hands empty but somehow more menacing than any weapon.

Liam, his heart pounding, his mind racing, kept his sword pressed against the Rubak's throat. He could feel the strange energy emanating from the gate, from the Rubak himself. It was… unsettling.

"What is this gate?" Brian demanded, his voice sharp. "Where does it lead?"

The Rubak smiled, a cruel, mocking smile. "That," he said, "is none of your concern."

Brad moved, so fast that Liam barely saw it. He didn't strike the Rubak, didn't inflict any visible injury. He simply… touched him, his fingers pressing against certain points on the Rubak's body, his movements precise, deliberate.

The Rubak's smile vanished. His eyes widened, his body stiffened, and a low groan escaped his lips. It wasn't a cry of pain, not exactly. It was something… deeper. Something more profound.

"Talk," Brad said, his voice a low, hypnotic murmur. "Tell us what we want to know."

The Rubak struggled, his body trembling, his will clearly battling against Brad's… influence. But it was a losing battle.

"It… it is a… a portal," the Rubak gasped, his voice strained. "A… a way… between…"

He couldn't finish the sentence. His eyes rolled back in his head, his body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious or dead.

"Damn it," Brian said, his voice tight with frustration. "He was about to tell us."

Brad shrugged, his expression unreadable. "He was strong-willed," he said. "Loyal to his chieftain. He would have died before revealing anything of true importance."

They stared at the gate, their minds racing. A portal. But to where? And for what purpose? The sheer volume of supplies in the chamber was staggering. How had the Rubaks managed to transport so much material, so deep into Drakonian territory, without being detected? This gate… it had to be the answer.

Liam, his gaze fixed on the strange symbols etched into the gate, felt a sudden surge of… recognition. He had seen something like this before. In the grimoire.

"Wait," he said, his voice urgent. "I… I think I know what this is."

He pulled out the grimoire, his fingers fumbling with the brittle pages, his eyes scanning the faded diagrams and cryptic text. He found it. A section on ancient transportation magic. A page… a torn page.

"Here," he said, pointing to a partially obscured drawing, a diagram of a gate, very similar to the one before them. "It's… it's some kind of… teleportation gate."

He struggled to decipher the fragmented text, the words blurred and incomplete. "… ate… teleportation… …can transport… things… no magicules… only… ten… humans… a day…"

He looked up at Brian and Brad, his face pale. "I… I think I understand," he said. "This gate… it can transport things. But… but not living beings with magic, at least only a few. That's why they're using it for supplies. And that's why… that's why they haven't been detected. They're not marching an army across the plains. They're… teleporting it. Piece by piece."

The implications were staggering. The Rubaks weren't just gathering in the Eastern Wastes. They were being supplied from somewhere else. Somewhere unknown. Somewhere… beyond the gate.