Chapter 20 – Exodus

“So what in the five hells is going on?” Mirian asked. Selesia looked nervous, while Xipuatl looked surprisingly calm.

Lily said, “You were right. I… don’t believe it, but there really is an Akanan army—”

“I know that part,” Mirian said. “I mean, what’s the plan?”

“Torrviol is being evacuated,” said Xipuatl. “It’s just… very short notice. There’s a lot of people to get moving, and we can’t use the train because it’s busy moving the garrison from Fort Aegrimere north. The defense… is not going to go well.”

“Why not?”

“Fort Aegrimere garrisons a single division. The Akanan force coming south toward us is a full army group.” When Mirian stared at him uncomprehendingly, he said, “They’re going to be outnumbered four to one. If they’d had time to set up a defensive line, they might be able to hold out while Baracuel’s armies make their way up from the Persaman border, but… well, it’s too late for that now. They’ll both arrive at about the same time. Some time this evening. Everyone is panicking, obviously.”

“This is why everyone should always listen to gods-touched sixth year morons claiming a prophesy,” Mirian said.

Lily burst into tears. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Mirian, it’s just… when they took you away for murder… and then, everyone was saying you’d signed a confession and admitted it had all been in a fit of madness… I’m sorry.”

“I did not say all that shit. Hellfire, that fucking captain! He’s in on it somehow, I know it.”

“So what do we do?” Selesia blurted out.

“I… I don’t know. I mean, we have to go with the evacuation. But last time, I died in the attack. I don’t know what happens after.”

“We were hoping…” Xipuatl started. “Well, never mind then. The last word we got before the trains stopped running was that something big happened in Palendurio, though no one can agree what. But now the spellward guarding the railroad tracks is down. Sabotage, people think, and everyone’s pointing fingers, but it doesn’t matter. With the ward down, travel south along the road will be risky. We have to stick together. Archmage Luspire is organizing all the certified arcanists. Word is to take only what you can carry.”

Mirian looked over and saw someone dragging a hand-cart through the street with two pieces of furniture and loads of boxes. They’d made it about twenty feet from their front door and were already struggling.

Fortunately for her, everything that she could carry would in fact fit in her bag. The spellward barrier being down was terrible news, though. There weren’t a lot of dangerous beasts roaming between Torrviol and the Cairn River south of them, but Torrviol was still pretty far north. It would only take a few bog lions or a drake nest that was feeling particularly frisky to kill a lot of people. Going in a small group without protection was not an option. As fancy as her new spellrod was, it would do nothing against even a single bog lion.

“We should get moving, then,” Mirian said. “And add food and water to whatever you pack.” The small river coming down from Torrviol lake to join the Cairn River was drinkable, but only just. Torrviol was modern in some ways, like the plumbing, but absolutely medieval in others—like all the sewage that the farmers didn’t take for fertilizer was dumped into the river.

Selesia, Lily and Mirian traveled back to the dorms, while Xipuatl visited his fancy apartment in town. They agreed to meet by the south road. As they moved through Torrviol, Mirian looked about. Some people were taking it well. People had spontaneously self-organized around the Academy dining hall and were distributing food around. In another place, a fight had broken out with one side accusing the other of looting. Some people had clearly taken the dictum to ‘take what you can carry’ seriously, while others were like the man she’d seen trying to drag half their house with them.

The academic buildings were dark, but Mirian saw a silhouette of someone crouched on the top of one of the parapets of Bainrose Castle. “Look,” she whispered, and pointed.

The others turned, and the figure ducked out of sight.

They want something in Torrviol, she thought. She remembered Professor Viridian saying something about ‘much is buried beneath Torrviol.’ She remembered the colossal door beneath the library. Is that what Viridian had meant? What was behind that door? Was it something so important that Akana Praediar was willing to go to war over it?

Well, there was no time for that now.

Back at the dormitory, Mirian changed into her dueling jacket. It wouldn’t ward away the chill so well, but it would take a hit from shrapnel or a bog lion claw better. She put her spellrod through the loop on her belt. Hurriedly, she stuffed everything else in her satchel. She’d have to leave behind some of her clothes and several of her books, but that didn’t matter now.

They stopped by Stygalta Arena, where Mirian led them to a cabinet packed full of water skins. “Nice to have for tournaments,” she said, and started doling them out. They filled as many as they could fit in their packs, clipped an extra to their belts, then left the rest by the fountain.

“There’s waterskins by the fountain in the arena,” they helpfully told anyone else in the area as they left.

They met Xipuatl where everyone was assembling by the south road. Carriages and carts already clogged the streets, some powered by spell engine, some by donkey. There were people helping each other out, and others bickering like agitated crows. It was all a disorganized mess.

“Where is the mayor?” Xipuatl muttered. “We need a leader. This is his time to lead.”

Instead, they waited around, and the minutes ticked by. Mirian was getting antsy. “This is all too slow. We need to get moving. The Akanans have spell engine wagons. Not slow ones, either.”

Finally, a cheer went up, and Mirian turned to look for the source of the commotion. Archmage Luspire was coming down the road, leading the professors and arcanists of the Academy. With their formal robes and their organized lines, they looked more like a military unit than a group of teachers.

Mirian recognized most of them, though some of them she hadn’t had as teachers for years. Professor Torres was the only one carrying a spellrod. It was the ancient one she’d shown the class. She also, surprisingly, had an exotic looking rifle strapped to her back. Other professors had their spellbook bound by a chain so they could quickly access it. They spread out and took positions at different points along the now long caravan that had formed on the south trail.

The instructor for combat sorcerers and battlemages, Professor Cassius, had an ungodly number of wands strapped across his chest in two bandoliers. He also was the only professor not on foot; he rode an eximontar. The six-legged beast was an especially large specimen, with more elaborate carapace than the ones she’d seen on race days.

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Several groups from Torrviol had set out already on foot, which was stupid. Myrvite beasts didn’t like to attack large groups, but they had no such compunction about attacking smaller groups.

Slowly, the caravan got under way.

***

The going was frustratingly slow. Ever since the railroad had been laid down some decades ago, the road had stopped being a priority to maintain. The rains that periodically washed over Torrviol had caused sloughs from the hills to their west to wash over parts of the trail, while the running water erosion had cut channels through the dirt. Mirian could hear Professor Holvatti cursing about it frequently.

It wasn’t a huge problem for anyone on foot, but anything with wheels was struggling mightily. One spell engine wagon had its front axle broken in half by a particularly nasty spot, which then caused the front end with the spell engine to get damaged. The axle could have been mended with some careful fuse metal spells, but the damage to the spell engine meant there was no simple fix. With no replacement part available, they’d had to abandon it, with a team of sorcerers using several push object spells in concert to move the vehicle from blocking the road. Further spellwork, such as force bridges and lift spells could make transit easier, but the caravan was almost the entire population of Torrviol, and there was a danger in depleting the available mana of the group just to overcome trivial obstacles.