Damien slipped through the palm fronds and landed beside a small pit filled with water. He scanned it and found the water pure. There was probably an aquifer deep underground that bubbled up in this little oasis. The bandits must have tapped it as well. They couldn’t survive out here without a good source of water.
Now that he had a starting point Damien needed to find out exactly where the prisoners were. It’d be a hell of a thing to discover he tunneled into a storage room instead of the dungeon. He sat with his back to a palm tree, conjured a spy bug, and connected it to a viewing rectangle.
When he was satisfied with the link Damien sent the spy buzzing toward the fortress. The tiny wasp flew through an unwatched arrow slit and flitted down a long, empty corridor. He needed to find stairs. The corridor ended at an intersection and Damien guided the bug left, deeper into the fortress.
Halfway down the hall he reached a loose-fitting door. The bug crawled underneath and went down a set of steps to a massive open chamber filled with benches and tables. There had to be enough seats for five hundred people. At the far end of the chamber a pair of guards stood at attention beside a closed door.
That looked promising. The bug slipped through a gap in the frame and flew down another set of stairs. At the bottom was a circular depression filled with water. Now he was getting somewhere. This had to be the bottom floor. Now where was the dungeon?
Two archways led out of the well chamber. Damien had good luck with left before so he tried it again. The spy bug flew into a chamber filled with sacks, crates, and joints of meat hanging from the ceiling. A pantry, great. So much for lucky left.
A short ways through the opposite arch was a locked door with a small barred window. That was more like it. Wherever there were bars the dungeon couldn’t be far off. The bug flew through the bars into a hall with cages on either side. Filthy, gaunt women and children filled the cells. Once-fine clothes were torn and caked with dirt. The women held on to the little ones, trying to offer what comfort they could.
Four men sat around a rickety table, passing a bottle and playing cards. This must be where they stuck the lazy guards. Lucky for Damien, less lucky for the guards.
The spy flew to a bare section of wall and fused with it, changing color to blend in. Now Damien had a target, he just needed to hit it.
Chapter 42
Damien drew a quarter of his power and conjured a digger. Nothing fancy, a crude body with massive arms ending in long claws. The construct burrowed down at an angle, flinging dirt behind it as it went. Once it dug a ways down, golden buckets formed to drag the dirt out of the tunnel followed by regular arches for support. Damien frowned as his constructs worked. This was taking a lot more power than he expected.
When the digger reached a depth Damien sensed was even with his marker he sent it straight toward the fortress. His constructs worked tirelessly, scraping away rock and dirt and spreading it out behind him. Foot by foot, hour by hour the tunnel grew, until sixteen hours later the digger reached solid rock.
Damien touched the stone and sensed his marker on the other side. By some miracle he’d ended up exactly where he wanted to be.
He reabsorbed the digger and buckets and settled in to sleep. Damien had been awake for thirty-six hours straight and used up a good portion of his soul force. Five hours of sleep would clear his foggy head and regenerate his lost power. Though he was eager to free the prisoners as soon as possible, rushing into it in his condition would most likely end with all of them getting killed.
A hint of sunlight glinted at the far end of his tunnel when he woke. His core had fully regenerated and all he lacked was a hot breakfast to be at his peak. Not feeling optimistic about a hot meal Damien reconnected with his spy bug and had it shift back into insect shape.
A different set of guards appeared on the viewing rectangle. They sat at the table eating bowls of heaven only knew what. Damien pointed at the wall and used a lance of golden energy to slice a disk out of the stone. He pushed it in and the instant the guards came into view spears of light pierced them with barely a sound.
Damien strode through the opening into the dungeon. The stink almost knocked him over. Women crowded the bars of the cells. He held a finger to his lips and they obliged him by staying silent.
Two slices opened the locked cells. Damien motioned them out and toward the tunnel. Some walked, others limped, and two of the kids had to be carried out. For his part Damien watched the door to the dungeon and eased over to the table.
Up close the contents of the bowls turned out to be sausage gravy. Damien conjured a spoon and devoured the contents of two bowls before the last prisoner entered the tunnel. He followed along behind and ten minutes later everyone stood in the oasis taking turns drinking from the well.
An older woman with sunken cheeks, dark, matted hair, and haunted eyes approached him. “You’re a kingdom sorcerer.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whose wife are you?”
“I’m Baroness Trasker. May I assume my husband sent you?”
“No, ma’am. The king sent me to deal with what he assumed were traitorous barons.” The energy from the tunnel supports ran out, causing it to collapse. Damien winced at the noise. “I only learned
