Nissilât rounded the corner in time to hear Jasper's admission. Another one of the hulking monstrosities lay at his feet, but judging from his torn robes and sagging shoulders, the battle had not been an easy one.

"I'm nearly out of essence," he continued. "And if there's another one of these things down there or - God forbid - more than one, I'll run out for sure. How's your essence, Tsia?"

"I'm fine for now, but I don't think I want to get caught in a prolonged battle," she admitted.

"Really?" Ihra raised a brow. "I thought you had practically unlimited essence. You've only run out of essence, what, twice before?"

"My wind blades barely damaged them," she shrugged. "The lightning actually hurt them, but those spells are so essence-intensive I'll run out if we have to fight a large group."

"And mine are just insanely ineffective," Jasper frowned. "The spells are probably doing a third of the damage they should be."

"These stoneflesh aren't resistant to anything other than magic, right?" Nissilât asked. "They can still be hurt by physical attacks or environmental damage?"

"I guess? Ihra's arrows seem to hurt them just fine-"

"As long as they're not juiced up on that potion," the elfling muttered.

"But I'm hardly an expert," he finished. "Why? Do you have a plan?"

Nissilât drummed her fingers against her thigh. To call it a plan would be too generous, but a kernel of an idea had wormed its way into her consciousness. The problem, though, is that it would force her to share more of her abilities with the group. Is it worth it? We can always rest up, maybe come back with reinforcements from the fort. Of course, she knew it was unlikely the bandits would still be there when they returned. There was no way they would miss the bodies in the cabin.

"If they aren't immune to normal damage, there might be a way to kill them without a fight."

"And that would be?" Jasper prodded.

"We can block off the entrance and build a bunch of fires. Smoke and oxygen deprivation should kill most of them, and those who remain should be unorganized and weakened. The plan might not work, though," she admitted, "if the cave is too big or if there is another exit, but I've used the tactic before with some success."

"It might work," he replied thoughtfully, "but what about the prisoners? I don't want to kill innocent civilians just to avoid a fight with those hulks. Not to mention, if we let the prisoners die, we probably lose our best chance of getting intel about the stoneflesh."

Nissilât hesitated. This was the part she didn't want to reveal. But if we walk away now…we might miss our chance. "I think I can sneak them out of the cave."

"With your shadow-walking?" he guessed.

"No, I can't take others with me when I travel through the shadows," she replied, "but one of the skills I received from Bēlet-Imtu might help us smuggle them out."

"What does it do?"

Her fingers twitched and she muttered beneath her breath. "As̆nugal-Arantu."

"What the hell?!" Jasper took a half-step forward as she crouched down, obviously looking for her. "You got an invisibility spell?"

"Not quite," Ihra said slowly. "I can still kind of see her, but it's like-

"Like your eyes don't want to focus," Tsia finished her thought. "One of my mother's mages had a spell similar to this. It doesn't make you truly invisible, but it makes people forget you're there?"

With a flick of her fingers, Nissilât canceled the spell and stood up. "Not quite, but a similar idea. The spell doesn't make people forget about me - it's just tough to notice that I'm there. You could spot it," she nodded at Ihra, "because you knew to look for me, but you probably wouldn't have noticed otherwise."

"Like a snake in the grass - don't see it until you've stepped on it," Jasper realized.

"Precisely," Nissilât smiled. "I can extend the spell to another person as long as I'm touching them, so I might be able to sneak the prisoners out. And if I can't get them out, at least we'll have a better idea of what we're working with."

"Sounds like a plan," Jasper agreed. "Though there's one more thing you could do - maybe see if you can spot any of these potions. The fewer of these monstrosities we have to fight, the better."

If the cavern had ever been a natural creation, it had long since been adapted by man. The entrance had been widened into a square arch large enough to accommodate a small wagon and the floor had been partially smoothed out, although imperfections remained. The steep shaft was almost entirely plunged in darkness, save for a single lantern that cast a halo of light midway down, but Nissilat was hesitant to shadow jump.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She wanted to move as quickly as possible, but she hadn't had much time to experiment with the spell yet, and she simply didn't know how far its coverage could bend. Would it muffle sounds, too, or would it only make her difficult to see?

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, she crouched down and chose her steps carefully, ignoring the burning in her calves as she descended down the ridiculously steep incline.

Her caution was rewarded when she reached the lonely lantern. An old crate was propped against the wall, with a man perched on top of it. His head hung low against his chest, rising and falling as he snored, but the wolf at his feet was awake.

She froze as the wolf's eyes snapped to hers, as its ear perked up and the hair on its back ruffled. One bark was all it would take, one bark to summon the fury of the entire camp down on her head, but after a long pause, the wolf sat back down with a whine. It hadn't pierced the spell.

Step by step, she inched toward them, keeping to the shadows until she was only a few feet away. Then, she stepped into the shadows, leaping across the halo of light and landing on the other side. She recast As̆nugal-Arantu as soon as she landed, and held her breath as the wolf rose to its feet again, but it could not find her. When it settled back down, she resumed her march into the depths.

Another few dozen feet took her to the base, where she finally got a good look at the cavern. Jasper's suggestion that it might have been a mine proved a good one, though it wasn't the sort of mine she'd been expecting. Crumbly white walls surrounded her on all sides, soft enough to mar at her touch and, even with the extra moisture from the intense storm outside, the air was so dry it was tough to breathe. It was a salt mine, albeit a small one.

On one side of the room, rows of wooden bunks had been dug into the soft rock. She counted the sleepers rapidly, her spirits dropping as she reached thirty-one.

The number, on its own, was not so concerning. From what she'd seen in the battle for Birnah, Jasper alone could take out that number of Corsyth soldiers with little difficulty, as long as there weren't any high-leveled warriors or mages. And while the stoneflesh were tougher, she still felt confident that the four of them could handle that number as long as nothing went too wrong.

But thirty soldiers also meant thirty people who might have a potion; they could defeat one of them, maybe even two or three at a time, but not thirty. But the potions weren't her only objective.

Pausing, Nissilât finished her survey of the room. The other side was largely abandoned save for two rickety wagons partially filled with salt and a few pickaxes. There was a small door leading into another room, however, and, after a moment's hesitation, she headed toward it. Rescuing the prisoners seemed a more feasible task than searching through the belongings of thirty bandits without being noticed.

The door led to a very short tunnel through the salt that exited into an even smaller room, one barred on both sides by rusty iron spikes.

There were only seven prisoners in the cells. Five of them were grouped together on the left; judging the fancy tunics they wore and the softness of their bodies, Nissilât was willing to bet that they were merchants the bandits had waylaid, likely from the north, if their pasty skin was any indication. In any case, they had clearly been there a while, as their skin was filled with sores from the harsh salt conditions and their lungs rattled with every breath.

The other two prisoners were in better shape. Though they had been stripped down to their underwear, their well-muscled bodies and large frames pointed to them being the missing soldiers.

Still cloaked in the spell, she made her way over to the cell but as she drew close, one of the soldiers' eyes flipped open.

"Huh?" He leaned forward on his knee, staring at the spot she had frozen in. He lowered his voice, "You're not one of them, but you're not one of my men either. Who are you?"

Since she'd already been spotted, she canceled the spell. "You must have a high level of perception."

"Started as an archer," the man replied. "But you didn't answer my question. Are you here to rescue us?"

"You're Captain Tōrîl?" She deduced. "I must say, I thought you were working with them."

"With those traitors?" The man spat. "Would I be trapped in here if I were working with them?"

For a moment, Nissilât actually considered the notion. The idea of planting one of their own as a prisoner was the sort of devious trick she might have employed herself, but it only made sense if the bandits knew they were coming. And she doubted they would have left the cabin unguarded if that was the case; allowing those men to be slaughtered would have been too cold-blooded for even one of her plots.

"I said I thought you were guilty. You're looking marginally more innocent now," she snarked.

"Marginally." The man rolled his eyes. "But you were right to suspect there are traitors. Maṣṣartîl and S̆ams̆ādīn led us into an ambush, and I think there might be someone else too, someone back at the castle."

"Any ideas?"

"Is this really the place to have that conversation? Get us out of here, and I'll tell you what I know."

"Fine." She stepped up to the lock and began fiddling with it. "What about the other prisoners? Are they innocent?"

"Just traders, I think," Tōrîl shrugged. "But they've been here longer than us. The salt is getting to them."

Nissilât glanced over her shoulder with a frown. It would be hard to get them out of there without alerting the bandits. And they only really needed Toril. I could just leave them here. Jasper won't even know.

But she blanched as Markînu's face flashed through her mind. Her dreams were already haunted; she didn't need any more ghosts. The lock clicked into place, and she swung the door open. "Hold on a minute and I'll get the others out," she said begrudgingly.

"It's going to be hard to sneak us all past them."

"I have a way," she replied distractedly as she started fiddling with the second lock. That was the easy part; the hard part would be finding some way to pilfer thirty bandits without waking them up.

The deadbolt slid back, and she pushed the door open. "Hey," she whispered, but the merchants didn't stir. With a sigh, she tiptoed over to them and grabbed one by the shoulder, shaking him lightly. "Hey!"

The man's eyes flipped open and, as he took in the dark-clad woman standing over him, the merchant began to scream.

Kruvas̆.

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