"Well, it's not on the level of my first rescue." he admitted, gathering himself. He had fallen from high places before, but this was an entirely new experience. "But I am improvising." The sand under him felt off compared to the grains of the desert. He found he liked it a bit better, actually. You could gain more traction on it. He tested it, raising his feet into the air and whipped them downward to send his upper body higher, making it to a standing position. 

"I've never seen so much drinkable water in the same place." He said. He knew it was drinkable because 8 gallons of it had gone up his nose and into his throat and he was not dehydrated. "I had no idea it could be so destructive. Well, no sense on focusing on it now." He offered her a hand, and helped her up. The light truly helped. Even he needed some form of light to move around, even if it was starlight streaming from under a closed door. "Besides, how many other suitors have you had that helped you gain a magical staff?" 

She shrugged as if to say 'he has a point' and said. "Well if you can get us out of here, then I'll be impressed. But this staff was just as much my doing as yours." 

He pointed at her as if to say 'you have me there.' It was hard to tell what Amal considered serious. 

They made their jaunt into the passageway. Unfortunately, Amal had lost his shamshir and scimitar in the waves, but his dagger had been held close as always. In the dim light of the low cavern, it almost looked as if it had materialized by magic, ironically. The tunnel led in a rough incline, Amal moving nearly sideways as he stepped continually up, dagger in front and face a mask of focus. He looked just as much of a cobra as the staff she carried. 

Minutes later, he held his free hand up to halt her behind him. "Dim the light," he whispered. His voice held no room for argument, and she dropped a few grains of metal from her collected ball and the light grew softer, and as they moved she could see why the cutthroat had asked for it. There was another light past hers, shadows now dancing at the end of the tunnel. Vaguely, she could see Amal's figure looking through the tunnel's end, and he beckoned her forward. 

The next corner held a cavern, with roughly hewed seats, flanked by stalagmites so high they nearly touched the stalactites that crowned the room. There were various wooden chests and sleeping cots, and three men sat around a fire and played a card game neither Amal nor Emmaline could decipher there, one of the men very clearly angry at the other two making a joke at his expense in Arabyan. Probably because he was the one that just lost a hand in the game. It was clear they were buzzed from the [i]Arak[/i] they had been consuming, a traditional Arabyan spirit. The most important thing, however, was the loot they had accrued. 

Copper and brass pennies from across the Old World were tossed together with Imperial silver Schillings and even Gold crown, along with the local Arabyan minted gold coins. Goblets and trinkets, earrings, necklaces, and even large pieces of artwork were all piled in what Amal considered the eastern edge of the cave, though of course he had no sense of direction below the ground. It was no Sultan horde, and truthfully it wasn't even fit for an Emir or bastard prince, but it was easily a few years worth of bandit loot. Amal could already tell these men were apart of the group that had attacked their caravan. 

Amal placed a hand over Emmaline's mouth before she could speak, fearing she might whisper something that carried across the stones. He guided her back into the tunnel, her spell completely spent. 

"How many men were alive when we escaped? A dozen? Half?" he asked her as silently as he could. Could the guardian of Asaph had killed all that had been pursuing them, or all that would make it back? Perhaps these three men were celebrating they didn't need to share this small trove with the others that had likely died in the sand. Next, Amal referred to those in the cave. "Wait here as I kill them," he breathed, though if she had a different idea or attempted to stop him, he wasn't gone yet. 
[@Penny]