Chapter 19 - Isolde
North of Penrith, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995
Amara’s feet pounded against the ground as she sprinted down the road and through the forest. She kept her eyes on the lookout, scanning her surroundings for shifting trees or the inky darkness surrounding an Aberration. One of her hands drifted over to her sheathed knife, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.
The caution turned out to be justified. When the entrance to the mines was just in sight, from the northeast, something heavy barreled into her side. Amara grunted, shoes skidding into the dirt as she was slammed into a tree trunk. She felt the wind get knocked out of her and grit her teeth. She raised her arm to stab down into the Aberration, but before she could, she felt her limbs weaken as the creature began to drain her magic reserves.
That constant, flowing pool of warmth within her began to flare and flicker. She felt her body grow colder, and for a second the tree behind her resembled the icy operation table. Acting on instinct, she shoved her hand down at the creature and flared her magic.
ENERGY | MAJOR
Magic Reserves: 62,613 → 62,591 / 110,876
Maximum Output: 22
Variability: 1
Amara felt something wet land on her face as the creature was blown away. She shoved herself away from the tree, raising her knife again, and took a second to catch her breath, assessing the state of her reserves. Thankfully it hadn’t managed to drain too much magic. Amara exhaled. She waited until the splattered remains of the Aberration began to disintegrate into dust, and once she was sure it was dead, she turned around to continue to the mines, pushing herself to run even faster than before.
As she approached the mine entrance, Amara saw that the carts had been overturned. Piles of loose, jagged rocks littered the ground, and she forced herself to slow down to avoid tripping on them. As she moved past, she frowned down at the scattered stones with narrowed eyes. With a quick scan of the surroundings, she found no one nearby and continued into the mine proper.
Amara slowed her pace once she entered. The air around her chilled, and the sunlight quickly faded the further in she walked until she was essentially roaming in pitch darkness. Her muscles tensed, eyes darting about the darkness. She reached up and placed a hand against the cool stone walls, taking a second to inhale and memorize the rough sensation of the stone while she kept her knife-wielding hand raised and ready for an attack. Any number of Aberrations could appear inside.
After running her fingers along the stone a little longer, she felt her heartbeat calm down somewhat. The facility walls were smooth with a few cracks and chips, nothing like this rough, dusty texture. She forced herself to continue pushing forward, gritting her teeth as her eyes failed to make out anything beyond the inky darkness.
Not for the first time, Amara wished she didn’t have such poor variability. Only a small amount of energy magic was needed to get a flame started, but if she tried to do that, she’d end up blowing up the whole cavern and blocking her own escape route with rubble. Steeling herself, Amara quickened her pace slightly. Though the current area was narrow and cramped, she reminded herself that there had to be more open areas, too, especially to deposit more ore inside.
If anything, the only good thing about the darkness was that she could convince herself that the space was bigger than it was. It allowed her to keep her mind focused on things other than the constant presence of walls crushing in on her.
More than once, Amara stopped walking when she thought she caught a flicker of movement or heard a noise. Still, she pressed onward, and soon enough she felt the wall under her hand shift. It curved to the side, widening slightly, and Amara realized she could make out a faint glow coming from around the curve. Though her first instinct was to hurry towards the light, away from the oppressive walls, she forced herself to move slowly, doing her best to keep her footsteps as quiet as possible.
She could feel the wall turn, and Amara lowered her hand. Now, she could clearly see torchlight reflecting off the wall up ahead, its source lying just around the corner. Fingers gripped steadily around the knife handle, she slowly stepped around the corner.
The moment she moved, a flash of icy blue flooded her vision. Amara froze when she felt something cold press against her neck.
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Just below her chin, a familiar spear tip was held mere centimeters away, so close that Amara could see her reflection in the metal. Her eyes roamed over to the owner of the weapon, who was watching her closely, a bright glow around her teardrop-shaped earring fading.
Isolde’s eyes were sharp, burning with the piercing coldness Amara remembered following her around Penrith. She felt the hairs on her skin raise on instinct, her pulse rising with a familiar thrill, but she kept her posture relaxed and her grip on the knife firm. She resisted the sudden urge to laugh.
This close, she could confirm that the look Isolde currently wore was nowhere near as intense as the one she’d first felt.
Amara smiled wryly. “So are you actually a watchman or something? You’re pretty good at swinging that thing around.” Her voice echoed slightly in the tunnel walls, bouncing and distorting with each new repetition.
Isolde raised an eyebrow. She straightened her posture, but she didn’t pull the spear away. Amara’s eyes lingered on the blade.
“I thought I told you to leave.”
“Yep, and I said I’d wait for you to get out. Which you never did.”
Isolde hummed thoughtfully. Her expression shifted to one of those calm, serene ones Amara had grown familiar with, but her eyes retained the same edged quality. It looked correct, fitting. It looked nothing like Edith.
“How long has it been?”
Amara shrugged, carefully tilting her head further away from the weapon with the gesture. “Two hours. The forest’ll probably get here soon, you know.”
“Ah, I see.” Isolde shook her head. Her hand remained steady. “It seems I lost track of time.”
“A little bit, yeah.” Amara’s eyes darted briefly over to the area behind Isolde. The woman was obscuring much of it, but she could see that there was indeed a larger clearing behind them, lit by a single torch that flickered in the darkness of the tunnels. Pushed against the stone walls were what seemed to be more carts like the overturned ones by the entrance, all piled with various stones.
Unlike the ones outside, however, Amara could make out a few that shone oddly when the torchlight touched them, some that almost seemed to glow faintly. Amara’s eyes shifted back over to Isolde. The woman still had all her old equipment on her, but now she was also carrying a second bag retrieved from the tavern that was stuffed full. Her guess had been right, it seemed.
Isolde’s eyes hardened, and Amara knew she’d caught her looking around. Amara kept her voice and posture casual as she spoke.
“So, anything good?”
Something flashed in Isolde’s eyes, something that looked like uncertainty, before the cold steeliness returned. “Nothing exceptional, I’m afraid,” Isolde said, voice calm and smooth as though she wasn’t currently holding a spear to someone’s neck. She shifted slightly, and Amara could hear the distinct clacking of stones as her bag moved with the motion. “But it will suffice.”
“Hm, I see. Not that I know much about what makes good or bad ore anyway.” Keeping her eyes on the other woman, she added truthfully, “You know, I didn’t peg you as the thief type.”
Amara noted the way Isolde’s fingers tensed around the shaft of the spear, but the weapon itself didn’t move from its position.
“Well,” Isolde said lightly, “that’s part of the point, isn’t it?”
Amara laughed, and she could feel the cold metal touch her skin as her throat moved. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Isolde watched her closely. “You seem rather indifferent to the situation,” she observed.
“Yeah? Well to be honest, I don’t really care much if you’re stealing ore or whatever. You do what you gotta do.” Amara raised a finger, deliberately choreographing the motion to avoid surprising the woman, and tapped the flat side of the spear tip. “Now could you do me a favor and move this?”
For a moment neither one moved or spoke, only the soft crackling of the torch providing any noise to fill the vast silence. Finally, Isolde slowly stepped aside, lowering her spear. Amara used the opportunity to slide away from the wall, giving herself more space to move around.
Isolde didn’t move her eyes away from her, watching her every move, but there was no real intention behind the action. Everything about her seemed like a softened version of what Amara suspected she was truly capable of. She rubbed her neck absentmindedly. Even the threat hadn’t held a candle to the gaze that had followed her that first day.
Isolde shook her head. “You really are a strange one.”
“Hey, right back at you.”
Isolde paused, quiet for a few moments. Amara could practically see her mind churning with thoughts. Just as she finally opened her mouth to speak, however, the tunnels shook. Stones fell from the walls, crashing to the ground, where they broke into smaller pieces that skidded across the dirt. Amara spun around, eyes sharp. Further into the tunnels, she could hear a low rumbling that drew nearer like an approaching wave.
Isolde cursed, and despite not at all fitting her appearance and presentation up until that point, the harsher language felt at home. She spoke, giving voice to the exact same conclusion that Amara had come to.
“The forest is coming.”