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 your location and situation a day ago. I assumed rescuing you would end the traitorous baron situation. Rescued hostages are a much better result than executed nobles.”

“Heaven’s blessing on you, boy. I don’t know how much longer we would have lasted in that pit.”

“My pleasure, ma’am. When everyone’s had a drink I’ll fly us out of here.”