"How exactly does teleportation magic work?" I asked Aiona as I carefully sneaked around the outer perimeter of the Dergu camp, moving with painstaking slowness and deliberation. I had already cast an invisibility spell on myself—one of the more reliable enchantments from the elven tome—which rendered me effectively imperceptible to normal observation. But invisibility didn't eliminate sound or the disturbances my movement created, so I still needed to exercise extreme caution with every step.
"Teleportation operates through two distinct methodological approaches," Aiona began, her mental voice taking on the slightly pedagogical tone she adopted when explaining complex magical principles. "The first method is what we might call direct line-of-sight teleportation. If you can clearly see a specific location in front of you with absolutely nothing obstructing your view of that destination point, you can teleport directly there. However, there's a critical caveat: you must be absolutely certain that there are no obstacles or obstructions present at your intended arrival point."
She paused, as if organizing her thoughts before continuing.
"In the current situation, for example, direct teleportation to where the captives are being held would be extremely problematic," she explained. "There are horses wandering somewhat randomly through that general area. You can barely see the captured merchants clearly from your current vantage point because of various intervening obstacles. Even if you selected a specific spot to aim for, there are far too many unpredictable variables. A Dergu guard might walk into your intended arrival zone. One of those horses could wander into that exact spot at the moment you're materializing. Any of these variables would cause the spell to fail catastrophically, or worse, result in you materializing partially inside another object—which would be immediately fatal."
The mental image of that potential disaster made me shudder involuntarily.
"Direct teleportation only works reliably when you can see your destination clearly and when you can be reasonably certain that no variables or mobile objects are going to claim that space during the fraction of a second it takes for the spell to execute," Aiona emphasized. "It's not as simple as just pointing at a spot and willing yourself there."
"That's the first method," she continued. "Now, the second approach is what enables long-distance teleportation—the kind of magical transport that allows you to cross miles or even greater distances instantaneously. This method works fundamentally differently. You don't need line-of-sight for long-distance teleportation. Instead, you must have physically visited the destination location at some point in your past. You need that personal, physical memory of being in that space."
"The way it functions is through visualization combined with conviction," she explained. "You must be able to clearly imagine and visualize the destination in your mind—to mentally reconstruct that space with enough detail and clarity that the magic can use your memory as an anchor point. But here's the truly tricky part: you also need to choose a relatively isolated spot at your destination, and then you must convince yourself—truly, genuinely convince yourself, not just pretend—that there are absolutely no variables or obstacles present at that location."
I could sense her mental equivalent of a wry smile.
"Of course, in reality, there's almost always something present at your chosen destination that you cannot see or predict from a distance," she added. "Someone might have moved furniture since you were last there. An animal might have wandered into that space. Any number of unpredictable factors could be present. But you have to engage in a form of deliberate, magical self-delusion—you must think of that spot as the perfect, completely clear, entirely safe location to teleport to. Only through that absolute conviction can the spell overcome the inherent uncertainty and successfully transport you. That requirement of absolute mental certainty is the fundamental law underlying all long-distance teleportation magic."
"The moment you allow doubt to creep in, the moment you think 'but what if something's there?', the spell collapses," she concluded. "It's a fascinating interaction between mental state and magical execution."
That was certainly a lot of information to process and internalize, but nothing that seemed beyond my capability to manage if I focused properly. I filed away the explanation for future reference and returned my attention to the immediate tactical problem.
I had been moving steadily while Aiona explained, and I had now successfully passed the area where the horses were still roaming freely, not yet contained within the fence proper. At some point very soon, I would need to find a way to climb over or through that fence to reach the imprisoned merchants. I was carefully studying the fence's construction as I moved, trying to identify which section might offer the best access point with the least risk of making betraying sounds.
After I moved beyond where the horses were grazing and reached a better vantage point, I finally got a clear, unobstructed view of the merchants being held captive. What I saw made my heart clench with a mixture of pity and rage.
They were all bound together with a single continuous length of thick rope that wound around the entire group, creating a collective restraint that prevented anyone from moving more than a few inches without affecting everyone else. Additionally, each individual had their hands tied behind their back and their ankles bound together with separate ropes, further restricting any possibility of escape or resistance. The binding was cruel in its efficiency—anyone attempting to flee would immediately be hindered by their own bonds and by the connections to the other captives.
Many of them were crying openly, no longer attempting to suppress or hide their distress. Quiet whimpers of pain and fear emerged from the group at irregular intervals. The woman whose husband had been killed—the one I had heard wailing earlier—was still weeping, though her cries had diminished from screams to broken, exhausted sobs. The young boy I had spotted earlier lay pressed close against her, probably seeking what little comfort could be found in human contact during such horror. He was sobbing as well, his small body shaking with fear and grief.
And standing watch over this miserable collection of prisoners were two Dergu guards, positioned to maintain constant surveillance and presumably to prevent any escape attempts or to select the next victim when the time came.
Studying these guards more carefully, I could see details that had been less visible from a distance. The Dergu men possessed notably darker shades of brown skin than I had seen on most southern people—a deep, rich tone that suggested generations spent with no mixing from lighter-skinned populations. They wore clothing fashioned primarily from leather—various animal hides that had been cured and shaped into functional garments. On their upper bodies, they wore what appeared to be leather vests or chest pieces, leaving their arms and shoulders largely bare despite the nighttime cold.
But what truly stood out, what immediately drew and held my attention, were their facial tattoos. I had only relatively recently learned about the tradition and technique of tattooing—the practice of embedding permanent ink into skin to create lasting designs and images. The entire concept remained somewhat foreign to me, as tattooing had never been common in northern cultures where I had grown up. But in the South, Arvid had explained, tattooing was a near-universal practice among many populations. Most of the tribal groups scattered across southern territories had developed their own distinctive tattoo styles and traditions, using specific patterns and symbols to denote tribal affiliation, personal achievements, spiritual beliefs, or social status.
Arvid himself had mentioned possessing a tattoo, though I had never actually seen it during our time together. I had examined his upper body on several occasions—both in innocent contexts and in more intimate moments—and had never noticed any obvious tattooed designs. Which made me increasingly curious about exactly where this mysterious tattoo was located on his body, and what it might depict.
But the Dergu didn't hide their tattoos on concealed body parts. They displayed them prominently on their faces, making the markings impossible to overlook or ignore. The designs appeared to depict some kind of monster or deity that their tribe worshipped—a grotesque, snarling visage with exaggerated features designed to inspire fear and revulsion in anyone who saw it. Sharp teeth, wild eyes, distorted proportions—the tattoos seemed deliberately crafted to be disturbing and threatening, to let observers see the inner nature of the men who wore such marks.
Or perhaps the tattoos were meant to suggest that the wearer had internalized the spirit of whatever monster or god was depicted, that they had become vessels for that entity's power and savagery. Either interpretation was deeply unsettling.
I forced my attention away from the disturbing facial decorations and back to my immediate objective. At last, after patient searching, I had identified a potential entry point—a section of the wooden fence where one of the panels had broken or rotted, creating a gap that might be large enough for me to squeeze through if I could widen it slightly.
I approached this weak point with extreme caution, moving so slowly that each step took several seconds to complete. I reached out and carefully grasped the edges of the broken panel, testing how much resistance it would offer if I tried to shift it. The wood felt old and somewhat brittle—good news, as it meant I could probably move it without requiring excessive force that might create noise.
Slowly, incrementally, I began twisting and manipulating the damaged panel to the side, gradually creating an opening that would be large enough for me to crawl through. But I had to maintain absolute silence during this process. Any sudden sound, any sharp crack of wood, any scraping noise—all of it could potentially alert the guards to my presence and compromise the entire rescue operation.
So my movements came to resemble something like snail-speed progress. Excruciatingly slow, testing each micro-adjustment before committing to it, constantly monitoring for any sounds that might indicate I had been noticed. My muscles screamed from maintaining such careful control, from moving so deliberately when every instinct wanted to just rush through and get this over with.
But finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only three or four minutes of concentrated effort, I had created an opening sufficiently large for my body to fit through. With even more painstaking care, I lowered myself down and began crawling through the gap, contorting my body to avoid touching any part of the fence that might shift or make noise.
I made it through to the interior of the fenced area, emerging behind some stacked supplies that provided momentary concealment. I had successfully infiltrated the camp proper. But now I faced an even more challenging obstacle: the two guards standing watch over the prisoners.
My mind raced through possible approaches and their likely consequences. If I killed the guards in any way that allowed them to make noise or alert others to trouble, the entire Dergu camp would be roused instantly. They would discover Arvid and his small force observing from outside the perimeter, and our surprise advantage would be completely lost. Arvid and his men would likely be killed or captured, and I would have accomplished nothing except making the situation catastrophically worse.
I could try to distract the guards somehow—create some noise or disturbance that drew them away from the prisoners long enough for me to free the captives and teleport them to safety. But that approach had a fatal flaw: when the guards returned to their posts and found their prisoners simply vanished, they would immediately raise the alarm. We would gain perhaps a minute or two of confusion before the entire camp mobilized.
The only truly viable option was to kill both guards quickly, silently, without giving either of them the opportunity to cry out or alert anyone else to the problem. That would buy us the maximum amount of time—it wouldn't be until someone from the main camp area came back to check on the prisoners or to select another victim that the dead guards would be discovered. That could potentially give us ten minutes, maybe even fifteen if we were fortunate.
But the problem with this approach was obvious: there were two guards, and they were positioned several meters apart. I would need to kill them either simultaneously—which seemed impossible without some form of magic I didn't currently possess—or in such rapid succession that the second guard would have no opportunity to react or call out after witnessing the first guard's death.
Could I accomplish such a feat? Kill two alert, armed men within the space of perhaps five seconds or less? I genuinely didn't know if I possessed the speed, skill, and ruthlessness required. But as the saying went: you never know what you're truly capable of until circumstances force you to attempt the seemingly impossible.
I positioned myself carefully, studying both guards and planning my sequence of actions with as much precision as I could manage. The first guard stood almost directly in front of my current position, perhaps three meters away, facing toward the prisoners rather than in my direction. The second guard was positioned roughly five meters beyond the first, leaning casually against the fence with his arms crossed, also watching the captives with bored vigilance.
Perfect positioning, actually. The second guard was in my clear and unobstructed line of sight. No obstacles, no variables that might interfere with teleportation. He was leaning stationary against the fence rather than moving around. This could work.
I took a deep, silent breath, steadying my nerves and focusing my intention. Then I moved with every bit of speed I could summon.
I closed the distance to the first guard in two rapid, silent steps. My hands shot out and grabbed his head firmly from behind, finding the proper grip on his jaw and the back of his skull. Before he could register what was happening or draw breath to shout, I twisted violently, putting all my enhanced strength into the motion. I felt and heard the sickening crack as his neck snapped, vertebrae separating and spinal cord severing instantly. Death would have been immediate—he probably didn't even have time to feel pain, much less understand what had killed him.
But I didn't allow his body to collapse to the ground, which would have created noise and taken precious time I couldn't afford. Instead, even as his body was going limp in my grip, I was already activating the teleportation spell with desperate focus.
*The other guard. Against the fence. Clear line of sight. No obstacles. Appear directly in front of him.*
The world lurched sickeningly as reality folded and unfolded, as I was instantaneously transported across those few meters of space. I materialized directly in front of the second guard, my hands already reaching for his head even as I was still solidifying into existence.
His eyes went wide with shock and incomprehension—he had just watched his companion simply vanish, and now a figure had appeared directly before him out of empty air. But that shock worked in my favor, paralyzing him for the crucial half-second I needed.
My hands found his head, repeated the same grip, and twisted with the same violent force. Another crack, another instant death, another body going limp.
This time I let the corpse fall to the ground as I released the invisibility spell, allowing myself to become visible once more. The sustained magical effort of maintaining that enchantment while also performing combat teleportation had left me slightly dizzy, and I needed to conserve my remaining energy for the actual rescue operation.
The imprisoned merchants had witnessed this entire sequence of events—or at least, they had seen the end result. From their perspective, two guards had suddenly died of broken necks in rapid succession, killed by an invisible force that had only revealed itself after both men were dead. Several of the prisoners gasped or made small sounds of shock and confusion and terror, uncertain whether their situation had just improved or become even more dire.
I held up one hand in a calming gesture and spoke quietly but with firm authority: "Do not make a single sound if you want to live and escape this place. I'm here to rescue you, but if you alert the camp to my presence, we will all die. Do you understand?"
Most of them nodded, their expressions showing hope beginning to dawn alongside their lingering fear. The woman who had been weeping looked at me with desperate, questioning eyes, clearly wanting to believe rescue was possible but afraid to hope.
I moved quickly toward them, already reaching for the ropes that bound them, preparing to free them as rapidly as possible so we could teleport to safety before anyone discovered what had transpired here.
The hardest part was over. Now we just had to get out alive.