am-books Chapter 20 - Exodus
Chapter 20 - Exodus
"So what in the five hells is going on?" Mirian asked. Selesia looked nervous, while Xipuatl looked surprisingly calm.
Lily said, "You were right. I... don't believe it, but there really is an Akanan army—"
"I know that part," Mirian said. "I mean, what's the plan?"
"Torrviol is being evacuated," said Xipuatl. "It's just... very short notice. There's a lot of people to get moving, and we can't use the train because it's busy moving the garrison from Fort Aegrimere north. The defense... is not going to go well."
"Why not?"
"Fort Aegrimere garrisons a single division. The Akanan force coming south toward us is a full army group." When Mirian stared at him uncomprehendingly, he said, "They're going to be outnumbered four to one. If they'd had time to set up a defensive line, they might be able to hold out while Baracuel's armies make their way up from the Persaman border, but... well, it's too late for that now. They'll both arrive at about the same time. Some time this evening. Everyone is panicking, obviously."
"This is why everyone should always listen to gods-touched sixth year morons claiming a prophesy," Mirian said.
Lily burst into tears. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Mirian, it's just... when they took you away for murder... and then, everyone was saying you'd signed a confession and admitted it had all been in a fit of madness... I'm sorry."
"I did not say all that shit. Hellfire, that fucking captain! He's in on it somehow, I know it."
"So what do we do?" Selesia blurted out.
"I... I don't know. I mean, we have to go with the evacuation. But last time, I died in the attack. I don't know what happens after."
"We were hoping..." Xipuatl started. "Well, never mind then. The last word we got before the trains stopped running was that something big happened in Palendurio, though no one can agree what. But now the spellward guarding the railroad tracks is down. Sabotage, people think, and everyone's pointing fingers, but it doesn't matter. With the ward down, travel south along the road will be risky. We have to stick together. Archmage Luspire is organizing all the certified arcanists. Word is to take only what you can carry."
Mirian looked over and saw someone dragging a hand-cart through the street with two pieces of furniture and loads of boxes. They'd made it about twenty feet from their front door and were already struggling.
Fortunately for her, everything that she could carry would in fact fit in her bag. The spellward barrier being down was terrible news, though. There weren't a lot of dangerous beasts roaming between Torrviol and the Cairn River south of them, but Torrviol was still pretty far north. It would only take a few bog lions or a drake nest that was feeling particularly frisky to kill a lot of people. Going in a small group without protection was not an option. As fancy as her new spellrod was, it would do nothing against even a single bog lion.
"We should get moving, then," Mirian said. "And add food and water to whatever you pack." The small river coming down from Torrviol lake to join the Cairn River was drinkable, but only just. Torrviol was modern in some ways, like the plumbing, but absolutely medieval in others—like all the sewage that the farmers didn't take for fertilizer was dumped into the river.
Selesia, Lily and Mirian traveled back to the dorms, while Xipuatl visited his fancy apartment in town. They agreed to meet by the south road. As they moved through Torrviol, Mirian looked about. Some people were taking it well. People had spontaneously self-organized around the Academy dining hall and were distributing food around. In another place, a fight had broken out with one side accusing the other of looting. Some people had clearly taken the dictum to 'take what you can carry' seriously, while others were like the man she'd seen trying to drag half their house with them.
The academic buildings were dark, but Mirian saw a silhouette of someone crouched on the top of one of the parapets of Bainrose Castle. "Look," she whispered, and pointed.
The others turned, and the figure ducked out of sight.
They want something in Torrviol, she thought. She remembered Professor Viridian saying something about 'much is buried beneath Torrviol.' She remembered the colossal door beneath the library. Is that what Viridian had meant? What was behind that door? Was it something so important that Akana Praediar was willing to go to war over it?
Well, there was no time for that now.
Back at the dormitory, Mirian changed into her dueling jacket. It wouldn't ward away the chill so well, but it would take a hit from shrapnel or a bog lion claw better. She put her spellrod through the loop on her belt. Hurriedly, she stuffed everything else in her satchel. She'd have to leave behind some of her clothes and several of her books, but that didn't matter now.
They stopped by Stygalta Arena, where Mirian led them to a cabinet packed full of water skins. "Nice to have for tournaments," she said, and started doling them out. They filled as many as they could fit in their packs, clipped an extra to their belts, then left the rest by the fountain.
Talk carried down the caravan. Further interrogation of the group—who had only lost two people to the monsters ahead—was that one of the first groups to set out was killed by something up in the hills, and the scarabites had been busy finishing off the remains when they'd stumbled on them. Frost scarabites were absolutely massive beetle-like creatures with icy crystalline shells and razor-sharp pincers. Each was about the size of a wagon when fully grown, and like most myrvites, they possessed several natural spells tied to their spell-organs. One was a frost breath, as the woman had discovered. Luckily, she'd been able to shield her eyes, or it might have blinded her permanently. The two men were lucky they hadn't lost limbs.
Professor Viridian, who had been admirably keeping up with the front of the column and had yet to complain, despite his age, cast remote eye, a rather complicated spell that transferred light signals, and therefore sight, to the caster. Through one eye, they could see from the perspective of the spell, while from the other, they could see normally. "There's a swarm of them on the hill," he confirmed. "At least ten. And that's not all. The trail has eroded away ahead, and the alternate route is covered in banebriar. The group that got tangled in it might be thankful the scarabites found them before too long."
Mirian shuddered. Banebriar was the stuff that parents used to scare children into not wandering the wilderness, and for a good reason. The thorns hooked into a person using a persistent force spell that made them nearly impossible to remove without counter-magic, while the vines slowly constricted around the caught animal, like a boa constrictor moving in slow motion. It was a long, horrible way to die.
"We should stop here, and resume in the day. The frost scarabites won't linger without carrion, and then we can clear the banebriar without being disturbed."
One of the women up front asked, "Can't you just... you know... burn it back?"
Viridian didn't even have to answer. One of the students did. "Banebriar is highly resistant to magic, and doesn't burn easily either. It will be an involved task to clear a path for the whole group, and it might attract more myrvites."
"But the artillery is getting closer. You hear those guns!"
It was true. Mirian wasn't sure how the sound was carrying so well. Had the Akanans really taken and passed Torrviol in a matter of hours? It seemed impossible, and yet the thunder of the guns was carrying clearly to them.
She watched as one of the priests worked to heal the woman with frostbite. Gradually, the blackened skin faded. It was a form of celestial magic, distinct from anything they did at the Academy. She watched as he did the same for the lacerations on the two men. She wondered idly if the Gods would let her practice magic like that. Not that it would make much difference; she was unlikely to be inducted into the Luminate Order and taught the divine secrets of healing magic in the next, oh, few hours.
The conversation about what to do had ignited a loud debate that started at the front and ran its way down the line as people learned what was happening. People just started shouting out their opinions:
"Raise up white flags. We're a group of civilians. Why would they attack us?"
"I agree, make an encampment, set some wards. We can move on in the morning. We're all exhausted, we need rest."
"Speak for yourself. We should push on. The scarabites might kill us. The Akanans certainly will."
"Really? Been speaking with them, have you?"
"They're willing to betray us and shatter any hope of alliance ever again. They're not doing that because they want survivors."
"There must be a reason they attacked. It has nothing to do with us though. Frost scarabites might be the least of our worries. There's Labyrinth entrances near these hills. Something far worse might come out."
Xipuatl took Mirian to the side where it was quieter. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Last time they had no problem gunning down civilians. We were trapped in the rotunda and they just massacred us. We should press on."
Selesia was sitting on a log, looking dejected. "I can't believe it," she said. "Akana's not perfect, God knows it isn't, but why...?" She'd been crying, Mirian realized, though she'd been quiet about it. It must have been hard for her to see her country's betrayal. Not that it was easy on any of them. She sat down next to Selesia and put her arm around her. There wasn't anything comforting to say; there was no upside or hopeful solution. But she could be there, in that moment. It wouldn't be enough, but it was something.
The moment was interrupted. This time the shouting was coming from the back of the column and moving its way to the front.
"What's going on?" Xipuatl shouted toward the back.
"Baracuel soldiers. They're retreating this way!" someone replied.
Oh shit, Mirian thought.