Chapter 10 - Penrith

Northern Road, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995

Vanstead was the northernmost dukedom of Augustein and the largest by sheer land size, though only about half of its land was occupied. The rest had been swallowed by the Warped Forest, which left the entire northern section of the dukedom a shifting, morphed land of shapeless structures and twisted trees. Vanstead was the main source of form magic ore in Augustein, and the Warped Forest was a simple consequence of excess mining. That was one of Edith’s stories that turned out to be true.

Amara had always found it a bit funny, how similar people were to the lands surrounding them. Both relied on magic to function, and both broke down when that finite magic was used or taken away. There wasn’t much difference between a stone and a child in that sense.

As she walked and peered down at the worn maps she’d taken from Joan’s office, Amara hummed to herself. It was the same song the little girl in the cell, who she later learned was named Maggie, used to sing to herself. She’d managed to convince the girl to teach the song to her, though Amara’s voice didn’t sound nearly as good.

Maggie was one of the first ones who died in the explosion. She’d been near its center, and that angelic voice of hers had been drawn into a shrill scream as the facility crumbled around her.

Amara shoved the thoughts aside and focused on the map. It was old and so faded that it was hard to make out details, and it didn’t help that Amara was still a bit of a slow reader. Eventually, she managed to locate her destination. She tapped the little label written in swirling ink. Penrith. Her finger slid north of the village, finding a second one drawn near the border of the forest. Draycott, it read.

Drew and Thomas’s conversation rose in her mind; it seemed Drew’s directions were accurate. Amara’s eyes lingered on the little label for Penrith, and she smiled to herself. Carefully rolling the map up again, she placed it back inside her bag and strode north.

—

Penrith, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995

The sun was beginning to set by the time she reached Penrith.

The place itself was halfway between a town and a village. It was larger than Winrow, that much was obvious as Amara approached, but it didn’t have the same bustle or quality that a proper town would. The road was dirt and unpaved, and while the wooden buildings looked to be made of sturdier material than Winrow’s, they still had a distinctly weathered appearance. It was bigger thanks to the labor needed in the mines, but it still didn’t have anywhere near the wealth of the bigger cities.

As Amara entered the town proper, she felt eyes dart in her direction: curious, suspicious, surprised, judging. Her own eyes scanned the surroundings in one quick motion, not hesitating to meet any stares with a smile that usually ended with the other person looking away. Once she was satisfied that there was nothing out of the ordinary, she continued forward at a leisurely pace, allowing herself to take in the scenery properly now.

The streets were emptier than Amara had expected; she guessed a decent number of Pernith’s residents had already evacuated. Still, even with the decrease in population, the energy of the town seemed as high as ever. Amara’s head turned, following townsfolk forming lines in front of stores, darting between different shops with large bags in stow. People speed walked, and more than once she saw someone’s head flit north. Amara herself turned in that direction, but between the buildings, all she could see was a distant treeline that didn’t look any different from usual. The Warped Forest hadn’t gotten that close yet.

Amara’s head snapped to the side as she felt herself bump into someone. A middle-aged woman carrying a covered basket hurried past her, making a beeline towards a shop with half empty shelves. Amara’s shoulders relaxed and she shot the woman a bright smile, but she didn’t seem to notice. She shrugged and resumed traveling. Ideally she’d find someone to talk to and ask for directions to the Warped Forest. Obviously it was somewhere to the north, but it’d be nice to know the exact route through the regular Arabesque Woods.

There. High up on a distant watchtower, Amara could just barely make out a silhouette leaning over the railing and staring in her direction. A watchman. If anyone knew about the Warped Forest, it would be him. His eyes were fixed on her, and she recognized the look from when she’d first been healed enough to walk around Winrow and people saw her bare arms for the first time.

Amara raised a hand and waved enthusiastically in the man’s direction, and she didn’t stop until she was certain she’d caught his attention. She ran up to the tower and grinned up at the man, quickly taking in his appearance. He was in the standard uniform and had on a pair of light brown gloves that had the Valister crest stitched onto them, as all watchmen in Vanstead did, but there were no petals. Not an officer, then.

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Raising her voice, she called out. “Hey, can you give me some directions?”

The man stared at her like she’d grown a second head, and Amara resisted the urge to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. She took a step back and repeated herself, this time enunciating extra slowly while waving her arms in broad gestures.

“Can you,” she pointed at the man, “Give me,” she then jabbed a thumb at herself, “Some directions?” The final words were followed by a series of rapid pointing around the various streets.

The watchman finally seemed to break out of whatever daze he’d fallen into, because in the next few seconds he began to descend the wooden stairs spiraling outside the watchtower. They creaked and shook with every movement, but judging by how unconcerned the watchman looked, Amara assumed he’d either gotten used to them or that they were more stable than they looked.

The man finally stepped onto solid ground again, stopping a few feet away from her. Amara took a second to study him, noting the slight tenseness in his shoulders and his slow steps. His stance was still fairly open, however, and he didn’t exhibit any of the rigid preparedness of someone who felt legitimately threatened. Simple wariness and confusion, she deduced.

Amara took a step closer to the man and grinned. “Hello!”

The man tilted his head to the side like a perplexed cat. “Hello?”

Amara didn’t try to contain her laughter at that, and the watchman’s face flushed. He cleared his throat, shifting his posture into a more rigid one, much closer to the usual way watchmen stood while on guard.

“Excuse me miss, but are you a traveler?”

She nodded, and the man frowned.

“I must say, miss, this is a bit of an unfortunate time to be visiting Pernith. Two nights ago, the Warped Forest expanded southward and swallowed the town north of us.” His voice grew somber. “This town, too, will likely be gone within the week at the rate it was moving.”

“Yeah, actually, I came to ask about that.”

The watchman raised an eyebrow, and Amara continued.

“What section of the forest is getting closer? Like, is it straight to the north, northwest, northeast?”

“It—wait,” the man interrupted himself. His brows furrowed. “Why do you want to know that?”

Amara shrugged. “I did say I was looking for directions. I’m trying to find the best route to the Warped Forest.”

The watchman choked, to Amara’s amusement. She suspected that if he’d been drinking something, he would’ve spit it out.

“You what? Miss, I assume you’re from the south and don’t know, but the Warped Forest is no joking matter! It’s extremely dangerous to approach, especially when it’s actively moving like it is now.”

“I know,” Amara said simply. “I just want to see it. I’m not planning on running in or anything, I’ll stand far away.”

“Even then, it’s still dangerous,” the watchman stressed. “Aberrations appear more frequently the closer you get to it. Forgive my language, but deliberately seeking it out is nothing short of insane.” He shook his head. “I refuse to give you directions if those are your intentions.”

Amara stared at the man unblinkingly. He shifted his weight, but met her gaze without hesitation, neither flinching nor looking away. Amara hummed. He might have a little more backbone than she’d thought.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a chill ran down her spine. She felt the weight of eyes on her back, heavy and piercing. Jerking around, her head snapped to the side, eyes scanning her surroundings rapidly, but she could only see the usual townsfolk passing by. A few glanced her way in curiosity, but none of them matched the sharp, icy chill she’d just felt, like a cold hand pressing down on the back of her neck. Besides the passersby, there was nothing but the still buildings and trees lining the street. Amara’s eyes narrowed.

Beside her, the watchman made a concerned noise.

“Miss? Is something wrong?”

Amara glanced back, noting the crease in the man’s brow. She forced her shoulders to relax. “I thought I felt something,” she said simply, turning back around. “But I guess not.”

The watchman looked unsure, his own eyes darting over to where Amara had been looking and then back. By then, the sun was beginning to set, and the shadows of the buildings lengthened as the blue of the sky shifted into a soft, rosy hue.

“It’s getting dark,” the watchman noted. Amara suspected he was trying to find a way to fill the sudden gap in their conversation. “You should find shelter, miss.” Don’t go to the forest, he meant.

Amara hummed in thought. She rubbed the skin of her arms absentmindedly. She could still feel the lingering chill of that gaze on her back. She shifted her bags, moving them to cover the spot, and kept her expression casual in front of the watchman.

“Well, that depends. You got an inn here?”

“Of course we do! Wallace manages both the tavern and the connecting inn.” He gestured down the street, the same direction Amara had just felt the eyes coming from. He lowered his arm. “Actually, I was planning on heading there myself,” he admitted. “I could lead you there if you’d like, miss.”

Amara glanced up at the fiery sky, then turned around to face the street and studied it closely. It remained still and mundane. Finally, she nodded.

“Alright,” she said, sharp eyes contrasting her lax posture. “Lead the way.”