The heat was the first thing that struck them, even before they emerged from the tunnel's mouth. A dry, scorching wave that carried the acrid stench of burning supplies, a testament to their destructive success. Liam coughed, pulling his cloak higher to shield his face from the smoke billowing from the hidden cave entrance. Behind them, the heart of the Spinebreaker Mountains echoed with the roar of the flames, consuming the vast stores of food, weapons, and other provisions they'd left behind.

"We've bought ourselves some time," Brian said, his voice grim, his eyes scanning the horizon. "But it won't be long before they realize what's happened. We need to move. Now."

They had taken what they could carry – dried meat, water skins, a few extra weapons – but the bulk of the Rubak supplies had been left to the flames. It was a calculated risk, a desperate gamble. Denying the enemy those resources was worth more than any immediate gain they could have made.

Brad, ever practical, had already scouted a path, leading them away from the now-blazing cave, towards the pre-arranged rendezvous point. They moved swiftly, silently, their shadows stretching long and distorted in the fading light. The exhilaration of the ambush had faded, replaced by a weary exhaustion and a growing sense of unease. They were deep in enemy territory, with a vastly superior force somewhere out there, now undoubtedly alerted to their presence.

The rendezvous point was a small, sheltered depression, hidden amongst a cluster of jagged rocks. It offered minimal protection, but it was the best they could hope for in this desolate landscape. They arrived well before sunset, finding the area empty, a stark reminder of their isolation.

The wait was agonizing. Each rustle of the wind, each snap of a twig, sent a jolt of adrenaline through their weary bodies. Liam, despite his exhaustion, found himself pacing restlessly, thinking back on the rush of the fight, the cold efficiency of Brad, Brian's deadly grace, and the unsettling mystery of the gate. He replayed the moment of the Rubak's sudden appearance, the feel of his sword against the enemy's throat, the strange, almost curious look in the Rubak's glowing eyes.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of blood orange and bruised purple, the first of the scouting units began to arrive. Elara's group, their faces grim, their movements weary. They reported no significant findings, only scattered signs of Rubak patrols, all heading east, towards the main gathering.

Then came Anayis's archers, their quivers slightly depleted, but their expressions determined. They, too, had found nothing of note, only the growing sense of unease that permeated the air.

Khel's unit, the veteran scouts, arrived next, their faces etched with exhaustion. They had encountered a small Rubak hunting party, engaged briefly, and retreated, losing one man in the skirmish. The news, though minor in the grand scheme of things, added another layer of grimness to the atmosphere.

But Hektor's unit was missing.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the whisper of the wind and the crackling of the small, carefully concealed fire they had dared to build. Liam felt a growing sense of dread, a premonition of disaster.

Then, they heard it. Voices. Not the guttural shouts of Rubaks, but the weary, pain-filled murmurs of Drakonian soldiers.

Hektor's unit stumbled into the rendezvous point, a ragged, broken remnant of what had been. Only five remained, their armor battered, their faces streaked with blood and grime. Hektor himself was among them, his arm hanging limp at his side, his expression a mask of pain and… shame.

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Brian was on them in an instant, his voice sharp, demanding. "Hektor! What happened? Where are the others?"

Hektor didn't answer. He couldn't. He simply stood there, his shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the ground.

One of the surviving soldiers, a young man with a gaping wound in his leg, spoke, his voice trembling. "We… we were ambushed, Captain," he said. "We found a Rubak patrol… thought they were only six… but they were… they were being followed… by another group… fifteen, at least…"

Brian's eyes narrowed, his face hardening. "I gave you explicit orders," he said, his voice dangerously low. "No unnecessary engagements. Observe. Report. Disrupt. You were not to engage in open battle."

Hektor still didn't speak, didn't look up.

"It's… it's my fault, Captain," the young soldier continued, his voice cracking. "We… we thought we could take them… we were overconfident…"

"Overconfident?" Brian's voice was like ice. "Five men dead. Five men needlessly dead. Because of your… overconfidence?" He turned to Hektor, his gaze piercing. "And you, Hektor? You allowed this to happen? You, a veteran warrior, a leader? You broke formation, disobeyed orders, and led your men into a trap?"

Hektor finally looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain, shame, and defiance. But before he could utter a word, Brad stepped forward.

"Enough, Brian," Brad said, his voice calm but firm. "They're wounded. Exhausted. We need to tend to their injuries. We need to move. We don't know if they were followed. We don't know if the Rubaks know our location."

Brian hesitated, his anger still simmering, but he recognized the truth in Brad's words. "You're right," he said, his voice tight. "We move. Now."

The remaining forty-eight moved out under the cover of darkness, their pace relentless, their silence absolute. Lia, despite her usual playful demeanor, moved with a grim efficiency, her eyes constantly scanning the shadows, her hand never far from her bow. The atmosphere was heavy, thick with unspoken accusations, with grief, with the ever-present fear of the enemy.

They found a more defensible location, a narrow canyon with high, rocky walls, offering some protection from the wind and a degree of concealment. They huddled together, sharing what little food and water they had, their bodies aching, their spirits low.

Liam, after tending to some minor wounds, distributed the meager rations from their scavenged supplies. He moved among the soldiers, offering a word of encouragement here, a gesture of comfort there, trying to project a sense of calm he didn't feel.

Then, he gathered the remaining unit leaders – Elara, Anayis, and Khel (Hektor was conspicuously absent, tending to his wounds and his shame) – and, with Brian and Brad, huddled near a small, flickering fire.

"We found something," Liam said, his voice low, his gaze sweeping across their faces. He recounted the discovery of the hidden cave, the Rubak supply depot, the ambush, and, finally, the gate.

He described the strange symbols, the feeling of ancient power, the Rubak's cryptic words about teleportation. He pulled out the grimoire, showing them the torn page, the fragmented description.

"...ate...teleportation..." Liam read, tracing the tattered remnants of the script. "It seems to indicate that this gate can transport...things. But the specifics are lost. Part of the page mentions a limitation... 'only things that don't have magicules...and only 10 humans a day...' It's not entirely clear."

Brian listened, his expression hardening as Liam spoke. He questioned Liam closely about the gate, the symbols, the Rubak's words, the feeling of the place. He accepted Liam's explanation about the grimoire's limitations, the fact that only Liam could decipher its secrets. The implications were settling in: The sheer scale of the Rubak operation, and the unknown origin of their supplies.

Brian paced for a moment, then stopped, his decision made. "We need to get this information to Karl. To Arthur. They need to know." He turned to Finn, the wiry scout. "Finn, you're the fastest. You will carry a message to Captain Karl. First light. Tell him everything. The gate, the supplies, the ambush. Everything we've learned."

He quickly scribbled a message on a piece of parchment, his hand moving with practiced speed, and sealed it with the Volgunder emblem. "This is your priority," he emphasized, handing the message to Finn. "Get through. No matter the cost."

Finn nodded, his expression resolute, tucking the message securely within his tunic.