Chapter 7 - Beginnings
Winrow, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein, Year 995
“Draycott got swallowed.”
A soft breeze rustled through the branches, sending a few stray leaves flying into Amara’s face. She ignored them, not moving from where she was lying comfortably down between the tall, swaying grasses, enjoying the warm sunlight and the deep blue expanse above her. She raised an eyebrow as she overheard two of the watchmen speaking to each other.
Training had ended several minutes ago, and the two were loitering around the now empty training grounds. She could hear their boots shifting on the compressed dirt and the slight clang of metal as they returned their weapons to the weapon rack. A few feet away from the grounds, obscured by the grasses, Amara slowly pulled herself up so that she was sitting down on the damp earth, just barely able to see the interaction between the grasses. She wasn’t surprised to recognize Drew and Thomas, two of the newer watchman recruits who always had good gossip.
Thomas frowned as he set down his weapon, a large axe that looked rather comical in the slight man’s grip.
“The whole town? It was just fine a few days ago, right?”
Drew shrugged. “Beats me. Apparently the forest started moving south all a sudden, and real fast too.”
Thomas glanced around the empty training grounds, though his eyes only briefly scanned the waving grasses where Amara sat. Even from where she was seated, she could hear some noise from inside the wooden main building situated in front of the grounds. The other watchmen were probably gathering for post-training debriefs. Thomas stepped closer, lowering his voice so that Amara had to lean forward to pick his words up.
“You don’t think it’ll reach Winrow, do you?”
Drew snorted. “Nah, with the current pattern, they say it’ll probably stop once it overtakes the next village. Penrith, I think it was. Heard folks’re already starting to evacuate.” The man shook his head. “We’re gonna be busy these next weeks.”
“How far away’s Penrith?” Amara suddenly called out. Thomas jumped and Drew spun around, an eyebrow raised when his eyes landed on her.
“You trying to scare poor Thomas?” he joked. The other watchman hit his arm, which just made Drew laugh.
Amara grinned, rising and taking a second to stretch her arms after lying down for so long. Even after all these years, she still felt a slight tug from some of the stiffer scars when she did so. “Not my fault you didn’t see me,” she said. She stepped forward, striding through the grasses until her shoes touched the dirt of the training grounds.
“How long were you there?” Thomas asked, curious.
Amara scrunched her nose in thought. “Since before you started training, I think.” She’d strode outdoors after breakfast and decided to plop down on the grass when she’d seen how good the weather was. It would’ve been a waste not to enjoy it.
“You should’ve joined us,” Drew said. “We haven’t sparred in ages!”
Amara laughed. “I would’ve, but Leila won’t even let me watch anymore.” She brushed some dirt off her pants. “Anyway, how far’s Penrith?”
Drew looked amused. “Couple hours walk, last I checked. Why?”
Amara hummed. “Just curious.”
Drew and Thomas exchanged glances, but before either of them could speak, a loud crashing noise echoed from the building behind them followed immediately by an angry yell. Both of them flinched.
“Ah shit.” Drew spun around to face Amara. “Well, I’ll hold you to the spar some other time. We’d best get going before Leila gets on us for dawdling.”
As if on cue, another yell, this one sounding distinctly closer, resounded from the building. The two watchmen both made a beeline for the door, and Amara waved cheerily behind them.
“Good luck!” she called.
Once they disappeared from view, Amara dropped her hand. She tilted her head up, squinting at the bright sunlight. She stood still for a few moments, letting the wind whip past her while her mind churned, before she finally turned around and left the area.
—
The Aberration in front of her tilted, the right half of its head melting into its body in a thick stream that flowed endlessly, contrasting against the creature’s jagged, rock-like left half. It was fairly small, about the size of a large dog, and moved in slow crawls, swaying side to side in a constant rhythmic pattern. The creature opened its mouth, the bottom half of its jaw melting away into a gaping maw. From within, a stream of that sludge-like substance shot out, and Amara barely managed to dive away in time. She rolled across the dirt ground, landing in a crouch.
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“Ow. Okay, so it’s got range. Good to know.” She rubbed where her elbow had slammed into the ground. Her fingers tightened around the old axe she’d grabbed from the edge of the field right where she’d dropped her bags. Its wooden handle was worn, a few splinters digging into her skin that would be a pain to remove later. Honestly Amara wasn’t entirely convinced it would survive the fight, but considering she was dealing with an Aberration on his fields, she figured old Johnson wouldn’t mind the collateral damage.
A second stream whipped past her as Amara jumped up and sprinted towards the Aberration in a zigzagging pattern. She could feel the wind blowing against her skin, her short hair streaming behind her as the bright sun shone down from the cloudless sky. Amara narrowly dodged a particularly quick blast of the substance, and she couldn’t help but grin, heart racing from the thrill.
Lowering her body, she drew the axe back and swung it into the creature’s right half with all her might. She felt old metal slice into a soft, squishy body, and she pressed forward triumphantly when she suddenly felt the blade hit something hard. A second layer of skin?
Dark liquid scattered by the Aberration pooled around her feet as Amara struggled to yank the axe back out. The creature seemed to be melting even faster as it reeled and writhed, but still the blade refused to come loose. She frowned.
From the corner of her eyes, a dark shape made Amara’s head jerk around. The previous stream of liquid was flying towards her again, leaking that inky substance all across the blades of grass.
“Screw it.”
Red and orange light flared from her hands as glowing marks climbed up her arms in a lightning pattern. A surge of energy rushed through her, and with a blast of light, Amara carved the axe through the Aberration, cleaving it in half and stumbling forward from the momentum of the burst.
ENERGY | MAJOR
Magic Reserves: 62,665 → 62,644 / 110,876
Maximum Output: 21
Variability: 1
Amara felt parts of the liquid splash onto her as she fell between the two halves of the Aberration, but she didn’t feel any magic drain away, which confirmed it was dead. She groaned and glanced back at the creature.
Split in half, it confirmed that the creature did indeed have a stony shell that had been partially obscured by the liquid. Said substance was already beginning to flake away, crumbling into fine particles, and Amara felt the bits that had landed on her disintegrate as well. Soon the Aberration was nothing more than a pile of dust.
Amara rubbed her head, briefly glancing down at the fading numbers on her arm. She winced when she noticed that the blade of the axe had shattered, and the handle had been reduced to a pile of splinters that she carefully released. She sighed and rose to her feet, dusting off any lingering Aberration remains. She really needed to work on her balance, otherwise she’d be falling over every time she used her magic.
The sound of approaching footsteps made her muscles tense. Amara spun around only to find a familiar figure approaching with a frown. Her shoulders relaxed and she waved cheerily over at the person.
“Morning!” Amara called. The woman frowned and shook her head.
“Don’t you ‘morning’ me.” Leila stopped walking. Her greying hair was pulled into a low bun that day, a hairstyle she’d started favoring more and more over the past year. Her uniform was slightly faded from age, but well kept, and the lighter color only made the symbol of the watchmen on the chest stand out more. She wore her usual black gloves, a single petal stitched into their backs to designate her rank. Watchmen often didn’t wear armor since it didn’t protect them from an Aberration’s magic absorption and slowed them down, but Leila had opted for a few simple protective pieces around her upper body as extra precaution.
From what Amara knew, Leila had served as the sergeant of Winrow for years and as a watchman in general for even longer. After seeing the woman during the last major Aberration attack two years ago, she’d pestered her to teach her how to fight. Leila hadn’t actually accepted, but that didn’t stop Amara from sitting in on the watchmen's training sessions and sometimes forcibly joining, though Leila had recently put a stop to that.
Leila’s eyes fell on the pile of dust, and she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I told you to leave Aberrations to the watchmen.”
Amara shrugged. “Well, it was rank E, sooo…”
“And if it hadn’t been?” Leila’s gaze shifted over to Amara, and her eyes widened. She hurried forward, gloved hands reaching towards her, then stopping at the last minute as she thought better of it and dropped her hand back down to her side.
“Are you alright!? Are those splinters?”
“Oh, yeah, I grabbed an axe on the way here.” Amara scratched her head. “Not really an axe anymore, but the thing was old anyway. Definitely wouldn’t mind if you helped me tell Johnson it was important.”
Leila shook her head. “That’s beyond the point.” She took a slow step forward, the motion carefully choreographed. Back when Amara had first woken up in Winrow and noticed people acting like that around her, she hadn’t known how to feel about it. Now, she mostly found it amusing, if not a bit old at this point. “I’ll escort you back to Joan’s, and she can treat them. They look painful.”
Amara waved the concern away. She flexed her fingers. “Not really. See?”
A weird look crossed Leila’s face, and the woman shook her head again.
“Even so—”
Amara held up a hand to stop her. “I’ll head back by myself. You’re on patrol, right? Wouldn’t want to interrupt you.” She paused. “Well, more than I already have, anyway.”
Leila’s eyes flickered over to the pile of dust, then back to Amara, hesitant. “Are you sure?”
Amara grinned and saluted. “Yep! I’m not a kid, you know,” she added good naturedly. She was aware of Leila’s eyes darting down to the scars on her arms, but she made no indication of noticing, letting the watchful gaze pass by without comment.
After a few moments of silence, the watchman smiled slightly.
“No,” she said. “I suppose you’re not.”