Chapter 20 - Alike

North of Penrith, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995

Isolde didn’t bother saying anything else. Tightening her grip on her spear, she ran forward without glancing back. Amara didn’t hesitate to sprint after her.

The shaking increased until even the floor was trembling, practically rocking up and down. Amara didn’t look back, knowing she’d probably see the twisted shape of the walls if she did. Instead, she focused on keeping pace with Isolde, who didn’t hesitate as she navigated around the tunnels.

Soon the exit came into view, and the two jumped out of the mines and leapt over the scattered stones. Amara stumbled a few times, lacking the agility Isolde had, but she managed to stay on her feet, adrenaline pushing her to run faster.

As they sprinted through the trees, Amara could hear branches snap and birds trilling as they flew away in large droves. She jumped over a fallen tree, and Amara finally glanced back and saw the Warped Forest at their heels, swallowing and twisting everything it touched. She faced forward and ran faster, the wind whipping through her hair, and she couldn’t help but grin slightly at the exhilaration. Under the clear blue sky free of any grey, the unobstructed sharp wind pressing against her skin, her blood pounding, she felt alive.

When they crossed the threshold of Penrith itself, the abandoned streets made for easy running. By then they’d already outpaced the Warped Forest a fair bit. That, and it seemed to be slowing down. Amara caught it swallowing the flower woman’s home. The bright blossoms trembled as the forest’s branches snaked into the garden, and those petals bubbled and churned, morphing into sludgy, soft pulsing blobs that fell limply to the ground. Amara tore her eyes away, keeping her head facing forward.

Amara glanced at the open doors and through the windows of the buildings they passed. She nearly paused when she recognized a silhouette standing by the tavern window, one hand pressed against the glass, the other holding a duster and continuing to move as though everything was normal.

For a brief second, Wallace’s eyes met hers as she ran past. The man simply gave her a nod before returning his gaze to behind them, where the forest approached. His hand never stopped moving. She could just barely make out the portrait set atop the windowsill, placed right beside him as he continued to work.

Amara turned away and kept running.

Just as the edge of the town came into view, the sounds of snarls filled Amara’s ears. She glanced back and saw a large Aberration pounding towards them, its limbs rotating and jutting out as it ran on all fours, its form reminiscent of a deformed wildcat with dripping tentacles swirling around its open mouth like twisted tongues.

“Hey, Aberration incoming!” she called. The woman glanced back, her own eyes landing on the creature. She tsked.

“We don’t have time for this,” she muttered. Isolde turned to Amara, not slowing her pace. “Hold on,” she instructed, reaching out a gloved hand.

Amara stared at it for a moment, eyes shifting between the open palm and her other hand still holding onto her spear. She could still feel the ghostly sensation of the blade pressing against her neck, and yet, when she stared at the hand again, open and free of anything else, the dark fabric of her gloves glinting like metal, she didn’t hesitate to grip it firmly.

Amara felt Isolde’s fingers squeeze around hers, and then that icy blue light surrounded them. The earring flared, brighter than Amara had seen it so far, and suddenly the two of them lurched forward.

In a burst of motion magic, the two jetted across the land, so fast that Amara could practically feel her ribs being crushed from the air pressure. Their surroundings zipped past them in a blur of brown, green, and blue. Pelted by the oppressive wind, Amara could barely keep her eyes open, and she glanced at Isolde. One of her sleeves was pulled up slightly, and she could just barely make out the woman’s magic markings, that same cold blue, crawling up from underneath her gloves. They were sharp, jagged, and thin, and the way the markings branched out in decisive lines reminded Amara of cracked glass.

When Amara chanced another look behind them, Penrith Village, the Warped Forest, and the Aberration were far out of sight. Around them, the glow began to fade, and they began to slow down until, finally, the two of them came to a halt.

The moment they stopped, Amara heaved in a deep breath, filling her lungs with as much air as they could contain. She took the opportunity to take in their surroundings. Instead of trees, surrounding the road was a sea of swaying grass fields. Grasses waved in the wind, rolling like what she imagined ocean tides did.

In the distance, the forest was nothing more than a lump on the horizon, a dark silhouette indistinguishable from its surroundings. By now, Penrith was probably entirely gone. Amara was quiet for a few moments, save for the sounds of her harsh breathing, and she thought silently of Wallace by the window. She hoped the warping of the forest wasn’t painful. Brief flashes of charred limbs flashed in her mind, and she quickly forced them down. The tavern owner’s look of quiet acceptance was nothing like the anguish she’d seen that day.

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Amara finally straightened, her breath slowly returning to normal. She could feel adrenaline lingering in her veins, and she focused on that sensation, the thrill of it, instead. Her eyes glanced over at Isolde.

In comparison to her, Isolde looked none the worse for wear, but then Amara supposed she was probably used to traveling at those speeds. Her eyes flickered over to Isolde’s earring, which seemed to tremble. Its glow flickered, fading and brightening again, until suddenly, in a flash of light, the stone shattered into pieces.

Isolde sighed and removed the earring, frowning down at the now shattered ore. “That was one of my better ones,” she muttered. She tossed the broken earring aside and roughly ground it into the dirt with her shoe.

Amara felt her shoulders slowly relaxing. “Well, at least you’ve got more.” She gestured at Isolde’s filled bag. The woman shook her head.

“These aren’t remotely the same quality. Acquiring another ore like that one will be an ordeal. It should’ve lasted at least another few uses.” She turned to Amara and raised an eyebrow. “Then again, using enough magic for two people drained it much faster than anticipated.”

By then, the images of fire had faded into nothing but a faint throbbing in the back of her head. Amara held her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t tell you to do that. You could’ve left me back there or, like, stabbed me in the mine or something.”

Isolde looked thoughtful. “That’s true,” she said. “I could have.”

Amara watched her closely. She could still feel the lingering touch where Isolde had grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Finally, she asked, “Why didn’t you?”

Isolde was quiet for a few moments. A breeze blew past them, and the woman’s long hair billowed in the wind, that blueish gleam more apparent now than ever. With only fields surrounding them, the woman cut an imposing silhouette, solid and hard against the blue sky.

Finally, Isolde looked up again, a wry smile on her face.

“I suppose I felt—feel,” she corrected, “a strange sort of camaraderie.”

Amara raised an eyebrow, waiting for the woman to continue while studying her movements closely.

Isolde nodded at Amara’s scarred arms, then raised her own hand. Slowly, she removed one of her dark gloves, peeling the fabric away from her skin.

“Although our circumstances are different, you could say we’re somewhat alike.”

Isolde turned her hand, displaying the fading letters and numbers still lingering on her now bare skin. Amara’s eyebrows rose.

ISOLDE

Magic Reserves: 6,132 → 6,131 / 6,942

Maximum Output: 12

Variability: 11

AFFINITIES

Energy: 50% Minor

Motion: 100% Major

Form: 50% Minor

Perception: 50% Minor

Emotions: 50% Minor

Mind: 50% Minor

Time: 0% None

Probability: 0% None

1 ACTIVE ATTUNEMENT

She stared at those numbers for a little longer, rapidly scanning them and committing them to memory. The adrenaline that had been steadily fading rose again as a new wave of excitement bubbled up.

“I didn’t think maximum magic reserves could be below 60,000,” she said, barely suppressing a grin. Amara cocked her head to the side. “Never seen that high of a variability before either, or an affinity breakdown that didn’t equal 300%. Pretty good output, though.”

Isolde smiled and slid her glove back on, obscuring the faint numbers and letters.

“Yes, it makes for a rather draining combination,” she remarked, copying Amara’s earlier response.

For a second the two just stared at each other, the wind passing in the space between them and kicking up a few soft clouds of dirt from the road. The dust drifted near their legs before settling back down. Away from the rustling leaves of the forest, it felt impossibly quiet and open.

And then, they burst into laughs. Their voices rang across the wide fields, and Amara threw her head back, letting her whole body shake with the emotion.

Finally, once their laughter had died down, Amara turned back to Isolde. The woman’s shoulders were relaxed, and she’d already put away her spear again. She was staring distantly at the sky with those icy eyes, now softened into a casual, relaxed sort of sharpness, the sunlight catching her hair and lighting it with those blue tinged highlights.

Amara smiled and took a step forward.

“Hey,” she said, and her voice seemed to echo around the open road. “Where’re you heading next?”