He doesn't go far. There were no people, barely any animals along the immediate vicinity, and much more debris than expected. It'd be a challenge for anyone to get through this mess, but they had very little choice in the matter of using magic to clear away a useable path. He shakes his head and tries to trim the fat quickly; his sword reappearing in his hand, with cold, calculating strikes that cleave branch and trunk. The boulders would have to wait.

Roland isn't a particularly loud person, even when he has to raise his voice, but this isn't a problem that occurs to him in the moment. He continues to hack away at bigger pieces of debris that cut smooth against a magically-enhanced sword, turning his head over his shoulder to shout: "Get ready, almost done!"

(Here's to praying the message successfully travels the distance.)