The Accidental Archmage: Book Eight (Where Titans Walk)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  The ACCIDENTAL ARCHMAGE Series

  Book Eight

  ARC THREE

  WHERE TITANS WALK

  EDMUND A.M. BATARA

  First Publication

  2020

  ASIN: B086PY885T

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, interactions, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously unless otherwise indicated. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All Rights Reserved. 2019.

  To my family: My wife, Julette-Marie, and my daughters, Amina Francesca, Katrina Fae, and Ana Bettina –for all the support and joy you have given me.

  To my sisters – For being so supportive.

  To my readers: Kindle readers of the series and those at the website where the first drafts of this continuing story were posted – for the encouragement and constructive feedback.

  CREDITS/ATTRIBUTIONS

  Cover image – A combination of an image under license from Shutterstock.com and an image by Alexander Antropov at Pixabay.com. All other design elements by the author.

  Title Page image – Briareus by Emilian1999 at https://commons.wikimedia.org/

  Chapter end image – under license from Shutterstock.com

  Other book illustrations – Commissioned from artist Marvin Dulay (2020) for ebook and paperback. All other rights to artist (mrvndl6@gmail.com).

  Contents

  Prologue Strangers at the Gates

  Chapter One Tourists

  Chapter Two Presence and Punishment

  Chapter Three Death Comes

  Chapter Four Mad Arguments

  Chapter Five Night

  Chapter Six The Garden of Chaos

  Chapter Seven Chaotic Measures

  Chapter Eight Weird Little Company

  Chapter Nine Into the Breach

  Chapter Ten Welcome to the War

  Chapter Eleven Proxies

  Chapter Twelve A Dead Mage of Kemet

  Chapter Thirteen Sigtuna Plain

  Chapter Fourteen Ancient Void

  Chapter Fifteen True Forms

  Chapter Sixteen A Prison of the Mind

  Chapter Seventeen Watchdogs

  Chapter Eighteen: Mage Emperor

  Chapter Nineteen Motley Crew

  Chapter Twenty Winds from the Past

  Chapter Twenty-One Making a Heartless Mage

  Chapter Twenty-Two Hello

  Epilogue Good Intentions

  Map of Dionysus

  Lore and Definitions

  About the Author

  Next in the Series

  Prologue

  Strangers at the Gates

  The Gates of Tartarus loomed massively in the dim light of its dimension. Before it was thin wisps of fog marking the boundary between it and the realm above, the underworld of Hades.

  The barriers stood immeasurably high, and its apex couldn’t be seen. Beside it, the walls of the cursed domain stood guard, and this time, it was to keep entities inside the former prison. Instead, it watched to prevent unwanted visitors out. The hue of the Gates and the walls depended on the being observing it. For the early Greeks, it was made of bronze, the material being the height of metallurgical craft during their time. For others, it might appear to be made of steel, adamantium, or other material, either magical or mundane.

  Kerberos, the final guardian of the Gates, had been driven away, maddened by the loss of its magical link to its master. Three massive humanoid creatures now secured the outer Gates, each having six arms holding shields and weapons of magical make. They were the hekatoncheiries, sons of the Titans Uranus and Gaia, and brothers to the fabled Cyclopes. Originally ordained by Zeus as eternal guards of Tartarus, the brothers had thrown their lot with the new overload of the damned domain. Millennia of watching over their original prison wasn’t exactly their idea of a divine reward. For a brief time after their victory over their now overthrown siblings, the Titans, the hundred-armed brothers had enjoyed the bright sunlight, refreshing breezes, and all that Earth had to offer. Until conflicts with the Olympians started to arise.

  Briareros, for one, had become an enemy of Poseidon. Also known as the vigorous, or the sea-goat, the mighty waves he created as his playground provoked the ire of the Olympian. Cottos, the striker, ran afoul of Zeus and other deities of war. Finally, the displays of strength made by Gyges, the big-limbed, among the Greeks had aroused the jealousy and enmity of many a god. Zeus’s well-intentioned gesture of making them sentinels of a place they never wanted to see again grated heavily on their pride and consciousness. Never mind that the move was intended to prevent conflicts between the hekatoncheiries and the numerous deities they had offended. If it was a reward, then it was too heavy and onerous a gift. They’d rather be prisoners again inside the walls and have more freedom to do what they wanted.

  It was a seething sentiment Iapetus knew and used. With the fulfillment of the pre-condition of the brothers that Hades’s hound be destroyed or driven away, and the promise of a lordly life out there on the physical world, shifting their allegiance to their own kin was an easy decision. The allure of power and freedom was a temptation too strong to resist. Now, the brothers waited for the call to battle on the surface. They knew many other creatures waited inside the walls, patiently anticipating the coming war which will determine the lordship of the realms above.

  Suddenly, Cottos flexed his magical strength, and fifty identical giants appeared above him, all facing outward. The mortal perception of each being having a hundred arms and fifty heads in one body was ridiculously inaccurate. Jokes arising out of such depictions were taken by the three in good stride, provided the speaker was powerful enough. A lesser creature would find himself crushed immediately like an insect. The two other brothers looked at the entity called The Striker.

  “Something comes,” was all the colossal being would say.

  Briareros immediately raised the alarm and followed his brother’s example. Tartarus was now notified, and the trio knew that assistance, needed or not, was forthcoming. If there was one thing the hekatoncheiries learned during the Titanomachy, overpreparation wasn’t a sin in war. He could already see Gyges’s simulacra adding to the army being formed in the sky. The hekatonchier was enormously confident in his strength and power. It had been a long time since their last battle. They were Titans. Without them, the upstart Olympians wouldn’t have won.

  In the far distance, several aloft figures could now be seen. Surprisingly, they didn’t appear to be armored or armed. The folds of their hooded grey cloaks didn’t move with the wind. And they were approaching at speed. The brethren looked at each other. Each had a broad grin on their faces.

  Battle, glorious battle, was coming.

  ***

  Cottos raised his head from the ground where the incredible explosion had thrown him. It momentarily stunned the hekatonchier, and the hurtful results dissipated the numerous copies of the giant. Incredibly, he discovered his body was bleeding from various wounds.

  Sudden fear, a reviled emotion long-forgotten, unhesitatingly embraced him as realization dawned that they were facing extraordinary beings. Only magic that formidable would have been able to inflict mortal-like wounds on the injured magical entity. Through unfocused eyes, he saw the outline of his brother, Gyges, some distance away. The magical aura of the gi
ant was weakened, but the entity was alive. But of Briareros, there was no sign in what he could see or even magically sense. The Vigorous among the brothers was truly gone.

  It became manifest to the hekatoncheiries that there were only seven cloaked figures as the trespassers drew closer to the Gates. The brethren had no doubt that they were of magical origin and had enormous magical power. Even if their arrival wasn’t heralded by the incredibly powerful magical destruction, that was obvious by their purposeful appearance at the mystical doorway.

  Finding one’s way to the Gates required a high degree of magical acuity and knowledge. The road itself was hidden, shrouded with illusions and traps of no little power. Unless one was damned to stay in the accursed domain, freely allowed to enter it, or a denizen of Tartarus itself, it was believed that access was well-nigh impossible unless one was dangerous enough. Power was always the key to many doors, even a magical Gate. But never had the gatekeepers expected that power of such strength would suddenly assail them, much less lay waste to the Gate’s guardians in such a complete manner. Not even Zeus was capable of such a murderous feat.

  ***

  The arrival of the seven was misleadingly quiet enough. The hekatoncheiries were confident in their abilities and the might which held the entrance. The guardians merely looked on as the strangers came closer. While still some distance away, the seven suddenly halted and adopted a peculiar star-shaped formation facing the closed entrance. A pulse of power abruptly exploded from each one, combining in one massive pulsating, green orb which dwarfed what remained of the giant guards. But the brethren were not worried. They were the hekatoncheiries. Of power so mighty that Kronus himself imprisoned them, together with their kin, the Cyclopes. Without them, the Olympians would have been trampled during the Titanomachy.

  Then the enormous verdant globe was released. What Cottos only remembered was its dark green face coming at them and his laughter at the thought about the stupidity and impertinence of such beings. The entrance itself wasn’t merely a portal. It was a miniature manifestation of the power that was Tartarus. To think that any magical spell would have the ability to force the dimensional doorway was absurd ignorance at best. The hekatonchier was wrong.

  As he painfully turned his head to glance at the Gates, the impossible greeted his eyes. The colossal gateway whose height defied mere sight was no more. In its place were ruined remains, nothing else stood whole. Not even a single gate panel was on its hinges. Of the guards waiting outside the Gates, only the badly hurt Cottos and Gyges remained. The seriously injured and weakened hekatonchier might not be the most intelligent of the litter – that was Briareros – but Cottos knew a grave situation faced them. The time to mourn a brother would come later.

  “Back inside! We will hold the opening! Tartarus has enough creatures of magic to keep a world at bay,” he cried out to Gyges who was looking around, evidently refusing to believe that Briareros was dead and truly gone.

  The two brothers disappeared.

  ***

  Somewhere to the far southwest, on the southern borders of the Zhong Empire and on top of an ice-capped mountain, a certain Lord of Mischief gazed at the plain below. It was filled with the tiny, ant-like figures of humans at war. On one side was the waiting enemy, the closely-arrayed and silent southern armies of the Zhong Empire. Facing them was a human force thrice their size, various troops from southern kingdoms and empires loyal to Loki’s assembly. It was an immense force still being reinforced by vast hordes of wild warriors from the Barbarian Plains. The entire army filled the plain, with aligned magical creatures in the mix.

  The Trickster God could see their human followers were still organizing and being reinforced by additional soldiers from subjugated domains. Beasts and creatures of all shapes and sizes were gathering on the flanks of the gathering host. Even natural animosities and predatory instincts among the non-human monsters were held in check by mighty overlords, imbued by magic from the various deities and spirits gathered behind Loki.

  He could see Anansi’s half-men, half-spider warriors making up the vanguard, their daunting armor and wicked weapons making them a formidable battering ram. With their natural exoskeletons, they were doubly hard to kill. Horse-sized monster beetles accompanied them, deadly horns and pincers complementing the hard and shiny shells which made up the natural armor of the gigantic insects. Some were flying here and there, while others appeared to be land-bound. Numerous other creatures were already marshaled, but Loki’s eyes were already on the far horizon.

  “Lord Xiangliu?” he called out, not removing his gaze from the far horizon. Something was clouding his vision, and Loki found he couldn’t see beyond the covering clouds in the distance. A monstrous snake slithered from the gathered assembly and glid forward. As it neared, the snake changed into a lithe, young man, armed and clad in the lamellar armor favored by the Zhong, though what he wore was green-black in hue.

  “Yes, Lord Loki?”

  “News of the Yù Huáng?” asked the Trickster God.

  The other entity snickered.

  “The Jade Emperor still wonders which deities are truly loyal to him. Doubt is truly a great ally in times like this – resentment could bloom into hatred like a putrid flower. It pushes men and deities alike to the waiting embrace of the enemy. But that old fart will be watching this battle, together with some from his trusted circle,” replied Xiangliu airily. “Most of the Zhong gods are still waiting and watching how the wind will blow; like the bamboo, they’ll bend with the coming gust.”

  “Any new additions to your circle?” Loki asked nonchalantly.

  “I am awaiting the decision of Yama of Hell and Zhong Kui, the King of Ghosts. I’ve talked to them separately, and even if one decides for the Yù Huáng, we might have the other. Millennia of being merely a king might lead to a consideration of how it would feel to be an emperor,” answered the malevolent entity with a knowing smile.

  Like you, for instance. Yet another ambitious creature. Too bad you don’t know what real power is like, thought the Trickster God spitefully.

  “And Xi Wangmu?” pressed Loki, his eyes never leaving the waiting horizon.

  “Ah, another fence-sitter. Also waiting to see where the leaves go when the breeze arrives.”

  “Her cooperation is vital. She rules the passageway between this world and your pantheon,’ Loki answered sourly.

  “I will try again, my Lord. But I believe most of those waiting in the shadows would make their choice after this battle,” said Xiangliu in a firm voice.

  “So much like mortals. Refusing to heed the portents heralded by the fall of the southern kingdoms and the threatening darkness of a coming great storm. All because those events happened in lands far away. Well, that far away is now close enough for them, I guess,” observed the Norse deity, hand cupped to his chin as he shook his head.

  Suddenly, his knees weakened as an inordinate gush of magical energy unexpectedly left him, leaving him kneeling on the ground. But Loki wasn’t called the deity of trickery for anything. Despite the surprise and shock, he immediately gathered his wits and quickly raised his hands to the sky.

  “Victory! By Adar, we will have victory this day! If those deities who oppose us dare show themselves, then by the fates, we will make sure that this world will have a lot fewer gods by the end of this day!” Loki shouted. Then he stood up as steadily as he could. His eyes met Anansi’s quizzical gaze. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he made sure his friend’s query would be made at another time. Yet the drain of power shocked him.

  Something unexpected must have happened, Loki thought with trepidation as he assessed the power left in him. No matter. I have power enough.

  ***

  Cottos watched as their enemies moved closer to the breached Gates. The approach was methodical. The strange beings were making sure that no surprises awaited them. Then each started releasing bolts of power against the ruined entrance, bursting with considerable force against an invisible shield.
The power that was Tartarus had provided a magical barrier to cover the opening. Still, its strength was nothing like the Gates which had gathered energy and increased its strength throughout its long existence. He knew it wouldn’t last more than a few minutes. But now, the hekatonchier could sense the arrival of a vast host behind him. Reinforcements have arrived. He glanced at his brother. Gyges immediately moved out to marshal the newcomers as Cottos remained in hidden observation of the progress of their enemies. Unexpectedly, the giant felt the arrival of a huge source of power. Like Tartarus itself, its strength defied the ordinary bounds of magic. It was gigantic, and a familiar aura. Kampe had arrived.

  Kampe. The name struck terror invariably to deities and mighty spirits who knew the name. Kerberos was nothing compared to the malevolent spirit. If the Hound of Hades guarded the Gates of Tartarus against any escape by mortal or spirit, and the hekatoncheiries were the guards of beings as impressively powerful as the imprisoned Titans, Kampe was Tartarus embodied, and was the previous jailoress of the mighty hekatoncheiries. Bound by Kronus to keep in line the three brothers and their kin, and then apparently killed by Zeus during the Titanomachy, the present incarnation of the colossal dragon-like monster was almost as powerful as its previous embodiment. Kampe was of Tartarus, not of the First World or even of the Second World. It was a guardian creature of the damned domain, an altogether different dimension.