Olimpia

As they stilled, tilting and twisting their heads to discern the faint sound, Sathera felt the blood drain from her face as a fist clenched her heart in an iron grip. The world around her slowed, and all sound but the distant pounding of drums faded from her ears. Faint as the noise should have been, every beat became like the clapping of thunder.

I did it again, she morosely thought, her mind laden with self-hatred and regret. Her gaze swept over the suddenly anxious Joxin, Jim, and Bellous before glancing back across the cavern they had just traversed. The stalactites and stalagmites sprouting from the cave roof and floor, along with the slight divots, whispered of cover as a damp wind brushed over her cheek. It was like the cavern itself was offering to conceal them. In that moment, the cave suddenly transformed into a gaping maw. The walls flexed like cheeks, and the stone spikes gnashed like teeth grinding out biting words of security. But its protection was a lie. A trap that would see their blood spilled onto the cold, uncaring stone, all because I made the wrong decision.

While the light was dim and nearly nonexistent for Sathera and her team within most of this cavern, the goblins had already proven that even the slightest amount of illumination within these caves was like being under the noonday sun for them. On the delusional hand, her assumption could be wrong, and it was entirely possible for them to scamper out into the cavern and hide forever. Part of her mind was praying to her ancestors for the dream to be made into reality, but that desperate hope came from the small, muted part of her mind that still wished she could return to the ignorant bliss of a child.

But reality was often cruel, and she knew in her heart that the drums marked the progress of thousands. Enough, Sathera would presume, to fill this camp to bursting. Maybe the first few centuries or the entire first cohort of the force would miss them. It could be the whole first half. Sooner or later, however, they would be forced to move, and at that moment, they would be spotted by a goblin who happened to be looking in their direction. Or it could be that some will be sent out on the pointless task of patrolling a cave as a punishment, and the offenders of superiors would stumble over them.

They couldn't go back.

Soon, those in the camp will realize that someone is approaching them. And they would start to—

Twisted to the side, Sathera found herself looking into Joxin's burning eyes, ripping her attention back to the present. He leaned so close to her that the stubble on his cheek brushed against hers as he whispered into her ear, his voice pitiless, "Make the choice. Or I will."

His words were like a slap in the face, and Sathera's thoughts snapped into focus as the world lurched into motion again. Without a second of thought, she spun in place and said, "Follow me." Slipping forward, Sathera covered the short distance from their stalagmite cover to the outermost ring of tents.

Head sweeping along the line of tattered, mostly rectangular — as she saw many of them that the erectors didn't bother to pull tight or tie off properly, leaving them half collapsed — propped-up pieces of patched and stained black cloths, she saw there were a couple feet of bare stone between each. Slipping into one of the openings, Sathera crouched down and moved to the far edge poking her head around its side and taking a second to look up and down the row, seeing nothing but more of the haphazardly pitched 'tents.' A sight that, every moment she spent looking at it, convinced her further that the hovels didn't deserve a title as grand as tents.

Turning her head, she looked back, seeing the others stacked up behind her. "Pat my back when you are ready to move," Sathera ordered in a whisper, receiving silent nods in response.

Giving the row one last look, ensuring it was still clear, Sathera kept herself in a crouch — as the tents were too small to conceal them otherwise — and darted to the next row deeper into the camp. Her head swiveled from side to side as she moved, never stopping her search for enemies.

Sathera's heart was pounding in her chest, and she was amazed all the guards in the camp weren't running to intercept them. Because, from her estimation, the noise should have been audible throughout the whole cavern, if not the cave system, as it thundered in her ears. And yet, they moved across row after row of tents quickly and easily.

The fact an alarm was never raised or that she never saw a single stringy, oily hair of a goblin only made it worse for Sathera.

Her head was constantly moving, and every time they moved from one row of tents to the next, she was taking slightly longer to move again as she slowed down. Something in the back of her mind was screaming at her that this was all wrong.

And to make it worse, though it might be her hyperactive imagination, it felt like some psychic force was pressing against her mind with every step she took, giving her a minor headache. Well, it wasn't only that. Something else was bothering her, and without being able to realize what it was, her mind was coming up with all kinds of wild fantasies.

Like this was all somehow one massive, elaborate trap, and sooner rather than later, it was going to spring close on them. Yet it never did, and probably couldn't as that would take… The silence of the camp all around her finally made it past the throbbing base of her heart, and Sathera understood.

No trap was closing in around them because no one was around to spring it. The tents were empty. If not all of them, then at least the majority of those around the outer edges. Which made complete sense with the enemy force approaching. The goblin must have sent forward a small force to prepare the area for the larger host to occupy.

That was something she should have immediately noticed and put together, but in her defense, she had been a legionary for too long. If you live in a legion camp long enough, all the sounds and smells of life that accompany it become second nature, to the point where you don't even notice what you are hearing until they are gone. There is always someone sleeping, which means snoring. The smell of food and the accompanying fire should be fighting against the rank smell of unwashed bodies, and the clanking of steel and shouted orders should be reverberating from all around. But just because you know what you should be hearing and smelling, and your subconscious notices it's not there, it doesn't mean your conscious mind will, especially with other important matters distracting you, like surviving.

This camp had none of that, and it was making her feel… like she was standing out in an open grassland surrounded by snarling predators despite huddling next to empty tents. Sathera was half tempted to slip around the side and push open a flap to see if someone was inside. Stopping herself before she could act impulsively, Sathera gave one last look at the current row they were on before moving to the next.

Satisfying her idle curiosity wasn't worth the risk of someone actually being in there. One scream would be all it would take for them to be surrounded and cut down before they could make it to the stairs. But with the realization, Sathera was able to keep a steady pace without her nerves wearing on her mind.

Minutes passed as they slowly and steadily moved along the tent rows, as even with this section camp being nearly empty, Sathera still didn't rush forward. While there might not be any goblins in this area, they knew for a fact that there were some in the deeper parts.

So they slipped from the outer edges of the camp to the border of the middle section, which was an easy guess to make, as they were at the edge of a fifteen-foot section of bare stone separating them from the next row of tents. And these tents actually deserved the name, compared to the patched and worn-out cloths making elongated pyramids they were currently huddling next to.

Instead of being stained and slightly smelling of decomposition while half-heartedly constructed, the next row of tents looked brand new and immaculate. The tent materials were a shiny, shimmering black, and all of the tent poles, stakes, and lines were correctly placed, keeping the cloth taught. If someone had painted a building-sized sign saying 'difference in status,' they couldn't have made it more apparent.

Reaching back her hand, Sathera clapped Joxin on his shoulder, then extended a telepathic tendril out of her hand, attempting to connect with him. It took less than two seconds for her to extend the tendril and for Joxin to accept it, but Sathera could feel the edges of her psy construct being ripped away in that time.

It was like someone was taking a rough sandpaper and frantically scrubbing it around the tendril's surface. Sathera had never felt anything like it. Even at the edge of the camp, it was more like a strong wind that she didn't expect had come along, causing her casting to be ripped away like an umbrella. Now, Sathera was actively reinforcing the tendril to keep it intact.

And even when Joxin connected, it wasn't like her psy and infused will stopped being eaten away. It was just that it slowed to a greater extent with the extra willpower to reinforce the casting. The change didn't go unnoticed by Joxin either, as Sathera felt his own surprise and annoyance as he had to use more of his will than he expected to keep the connection stable.

"You were right, Sathera," Joxin sent as soon as a stable link had formed. "This isn't like before." He flicked his left hand out toward the ground, a frown appearing on his face. "Something is definitely going on. It's also affecting a telekinetic tendril."

“That… is serious." Sathera sent back, hesitant if they should spend the time searching for answers. Then, she discarded the thought, as it wasn't her job. Her role was to get back and report information while preserving the lives of her men, if possible. Taking on an impossible mission fell into the area of the knights like the Molten Man or the Steel Golem. Reporting this occurrence should be enough. Right? No one answered her silent plea, leaving her to wallow in her own uncertainty.

After making the decision, hesitant as it was, she moved on to what she wanted to talk about. "We are entering a more populated area of the camp," she stated, getting a flicker of agreement in response. "When we get spotted, we will rush for the stairs. Tell the others not to fight if they can help it and keep moving; speed will be our only friend at that time."

As she pulled her hand back, Joxin nodded in response, then shifted to grab the others and relay her message. Putting them out of her mind, Sathera turned to watch the dividing line between the outer and middle camp. She could see guards placed to the far right, at least a couple hundred feet away, standing at the intersection of a wide road moving perpendicular to the dividing stripe.

Given the distance, the guards shouldn't notice the scouts so long as they were fast enough, but nothing could ever be certain. They could only try their best while relying on their training and hoping it would all work out. Everything else was up to the gods. Not seeing anything new, Sathera let her eyes glaze over and listened.

The beating was noticeably louder now. It was so loud, in fact, that it hardly even took Sathera a second to pick out the noise over the sound of air rushing through the chamber and thousands of droplets of water splattering against stones. The boom, boom, boom, of a steady, unrelenting cadence. A noise acting as a harbinger. Daring, threatening, pleading for someone to take up its challenge. To block its path so the thuds could pummel the blood of its foes into the stone as it passed over their broken bodies.

Sathera blinked, ripping her mind from the line of thoughts and suppressing the feeling to turn and charge at the drums behind her. Drums carrying a casting that was as subtle as it was insidious, worming its way into her thoughts, pushing her to act rashly out of fear and arrogance rather than from controlled logic.

As Joxin's hand impacted her shoulder, she jumped slightly before extending a tendril to him and sent, "Don't listen to the drums. There is a mental manipulation casting woven within the sound."

She felt his shock and fear at her statement and the certainty and barely suppressed fear that filled her mind. In reply, he simply said, "Understood," in a flat tone, as she felt him start constructing a shield around his mind. The focus on maintaining such mental defenses might cause him to make mistakes, but a small sound was far better than having someone she was relying on being mentally manipulated.

Receiving another pat on the back a few seconds later, once Joxin relayed the latest message, Sathera rose from her relaxed squat, only to freeze in place as screams of anxiety and barks of command washed over the camp like a wave. What sounded like hundreds of voices rose all around them, and an overwhelming certainty that they had been found locked Sathera in place.