Chapter 18 - Evacuation
Penrith, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995
They ran past dense trees and bushes until the canopy once again thinned and the bright blossoms of the woman’s garden came into view. Amara’s eyes swept over the flowers as they passed, but she could see no sign of the flower woman, as she’d started calling her in her mind, and turned her head forward again to keep running.
“The watchtowers should all be equipped with bells for situations like this,” Isolde said.
Amara nodded, turning at the next corner in the direction she remembered the watchtower being. Sure enough, the wooden structure soon came into view, and standing above, she could just make out the same watchman she’d spoken to standing on top of the railing and peering down at the town.
The two of them skidded to a halt at the base of the tower, and the man’s eyes widened.
“What’s happening? Are the two of you alri—”
“Tell the villagers to evacuate,” Amara interrupted. She noticed a few passersby pause and glance in their direction, whispering to themselves. She kept her focus on the watchman, purposely speaking loudly to ensure she was heard. The man paused, brows furrowing.
“What do you mean? They already—”
“The Warped Forest is moving,” Isolde interrupted, a hint of impatience in her voice that made Amara’s eyebrows raise. “I estimate you all have a few hours at most before this place is completely swallowed.”
The man’s face paled, and he took a step back. “Are you sure? How do you know?”
“We both saw it happen,” Isolde said. She turned. “It’s up to you whether or not you believe us.”
Without another word, the woman began walking down the street in quick, but steady strides. The watchman sputtered, and his head swiveled between Isolde’s quickly disappearing form and the watchtower. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. Straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath, the man stepped towards a covered section of the tower sitting in the center of its top level.
Amara waited until he pulled aside the cloth, revealing a large dull bell, before turning and hurrying after Isolde, running past more than a few worrying villagers. At that point their voices had raised to barely contained mutters, and she could hear the growing frenzy in their words as she passed by.
“Hey, wait up!”
Isolde turned, finally slowing down slightly, and Amara paused to catch her breath.
“Where’re you going?” she finally asked. Isolde frowned.
“I left some of my things in my tavern room. I’m going to retrieve them.”
As she finished speaking, the ringing of the bell interrupted them. Amara turned, flinching slightly at the bold, metallic sound that vibrated across the village. High up in the watchtower, the uncovered bell now swung side to side, its surface shining in the light. She could just barely make out the watchman standing beside it, a long rod in hand, which he hit against the bell once again.
The first few rings, the streets remained still. People turned to stare, but no one quite knew how to respond. By the third ring, however, it was as though a spell had been broken. The reality of the situation settled in, and the shocked, static villagers sprang into a flurry of movement. A woman carrying a bag of groceries beside them bolted down the street, apples tumbling out of her bag and scattering across the road that she ignored. A father scooped his son into his arms and hurried down an alley. Vendors dropped their wares and abandoned their stalls to return to their homes. Brooms were left strewn over half dusted porch steps.
“It seems he decided to listen after all,” Isolde muttered. She nodded to Amara. “I recommend you escape while you can. It’s better to leave early, before it becomes too crowded.”
Amara stared at her and made no motion to move.
“What about you?”
Isolde blinked. An emotion flashed in her eyes, but it was gone before Amara could make sense of it. “Me? I’ll evacuate once I have all my things.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Amara kept staring at her, unable to shake the eerily similar image of another head of dark hair turned away from her, vanished by morning. She shook her head. This was an entirely different situation. The figure back then had been small and hunched, but Isolde stood with her shoulders relaxed, the wind blowing her long hair in smooth waves—the picture of assured confidence. Amara nodded slowly.
“Okay. I’ve got all my stuff, so I’ll wait on the road for you. There’s only one path out, right?”
Isolde’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “You don’t need to do that. I assure you—” she paused, cutting herself off. Something unreadable flickered in her eyes, and her gaze was sharp, contemplative. Finally, after a moment of pause, she nodded. “Alright,” she said. “I will see you later.”
When Isolde turned away again, for a moment Amara simply stood there, watching her retreating back. Finally, as another ring resounded across the town, seeming to shake the buildings to their core, she shook her head and turned to leave.
—
Amara found it impressive how quickly the residents of Penrith evacuated. She’d just exited the town proper and turned around when she was nearly run over by a fleeing family. Even though the forest had moved a week in advance, it seemed a majority of the townsfolk had already had their bags either entirely or at least partially packed. Of the ones who didn’t, quite a few seemed to adopt a “run first” mentality, and Amara saw more than a few people pass by empty handed, carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Of course, not everyone was in a rush. Some took more time and stepped out later, confident that they still had a few more hours. Others would stop and wait near where Amara was, often for friends and family, before they departed the town together in smaller pods.
Still, despite the sometimes erratic flow of people, slowly but surely Penrith emptied out. The streets were soon empty. Doors were left open and ajar, their owners not having bothered to close them. She saw an abandoned ball rolling along the streets, a few children’s toys dropped onto the grass and lying limp between the blades. Clothes were left hanging on lines, and the open doors creaked slightly whenever the wind whipped past them, sounding like a low moan.
Only the last few stragglers remained. The bell had stopped ringing a while ago.
—
Isolde still hadn’t appeared.
Amara stared at the town. She’d ended up sitting down on the road at some point, situating herself just a little off to the side to avoid getting trampled. At least an hour must have passed by then. The forest was supposed to reach them in “a few hours,” so technically there was still time, she told herself. Amara frowned.
“You’re still here!?”
Amara glanced over, seeing the watchman from before. He was still in his uniform, both gloves on, and he had a large bag slung over his shoulder. He was probably the last one to evacuate, out of the ones who were leaving at all, Amara thought to herself.
She waved at him, which only made the man furrow his brows.
“You should hurry and leave. You have all your things, don’t you?”
“Yep.” She patted her bag, then turned back to facing the town. “Hey, how long’s it been?”
The watchman’s eyes darted behind them nervously, one of his feet tapping with impatience, but he stayed and answered nonetheless. “Uh, about two hours, I believe.”
Amara hummed in acknowledgement. “I see.” She rose to her feet and dusted some dirt off her clothes. She waved at the watchman. “I’ll head out in a couple of minutes. Don’t worry about me.”
The man looked hesitant. His eyes had never stopped flickering between the still town and the road ahead. He paused. “Where’s the other traveler? Is she not with you?”
Amara studied the man. Finally, she said, “She already left.”
It must have been convincing, because the watchman seemed to believe it. He sighed in relief. “That’s good to hear.” Amara could see the way his body was practically leaning forward, itching to get away. She gave the man a reassuring smile.
“Hurry and get going,” she said. She shot him a thumbs up. “I’ll leave soon.”
Any lingering hesitation the man had wasn’t enough to overcome his survival instincts. With a slow nod and one final look, the watchman turned away and hurried down the road. Amara watched as his silhouette retreated and soon disappeared from the horizon before turning back to the town.
There was no way Isolde was still packing. A traveler wouldn’t have so many things to begin with, especially not someone who’d arrived recently and probably hadn’t had the opportunity to unpack. Amara thought back to her interactions with the woman, the conversations they’d had. Her eyes focused north, towards the path that she and Isolde had walked down mere hours ago.
“I wanted to check if the directions I received were accurate. It seems they were.”
Amara’s eyes narrowed. The mines.
Pieces began to fall into place in her head, filling in the gaps and cracks in her knowledge of the other woman. She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck, remembering that piercing, chilling stare that she still hadn’t managed to draw out.
Amara took a second to check that all her things were in place, adjusting her bag, her clothes, and the knife at her waist. Then, with one final scrutinizing look at the town, she ran north.