“I know. Thyma told me. But this is my first time outside Adar and novel the experience may be, it is not pleasant. Even my sense of direction, deemed extraordinary among magical entities, is useless here. If we were on Adar, the only explanation for that would be being caught within the aura of a more powerful entity,” mused the dragoness. “It puzzles me to experience that inside this realm, even if it might be a creation of a formidable deity or entity.”
“I have no answer to that, Gullin. We’re treading not only on unfamiliar territory but also dealing with unknown knowledge and strange energies,” answered the mage.
“Oh, you felt that too? I have never felt that kind of magic before,” said the draken.
Thyma stirred and looked back at the mage. Tyler could see that the Oracle herself was confused.
“A hazy fog blocks my vision, but I could catch glimpses of events beyond its nebulous curtain,” said Thyma wearily. “Asag is alive and near, yet far at the same time. Such a contradiction my senses couldn’t resolve. Yet Kerberos also lives, though its power is strangely dormant as if it’s gathering strength. The Gates, or what remained of them, hold. For a while longer, at least.”
Tyler thanked the visibly tired woman, who appeared a little bewildered at what clouded her sight. The mage could only imagine the kind of effort the Oracle put into her scrying to be so affected by what she considered as a paltry return on the energy expended. He knew Asag was still in the world of men. He could feel the daemon. But, for some reason, the emotions conveyed by the bond were confusing. A calmness, an intention to engage in mischief, followed by extreme bewilderment, and then mindless fury. The mage was baffled by the mix of emotions, and wondered what could have driven the daemon to such heights of irritable anger.
Chapter Two
Presence and Punishment
“Sire, a moment.” Thyma’s voice softly called, disturbing the mage who trying to make sense of Asag’s perplexing emotional stages. The young Archmage halted his confused meandering and looked at the Oracle. Even Tyler had to admit that the demigoddess had an impeccable sense of timing. His train of thought was fast approaching a brick wall.
“There are locations where a warping of perception does not rule. Consider them the eyes of the storm that is Tartarus. Finding them is the challenge. It would be exceedingly difficult to cut through the morass of disorientation,” explained the woman.
“This blasted place has oases? Or something similar?” exclaimed the surprised mage. It was an expression which was followed by the eager voice of the einherjar.
“How would we know when we’re in such an area?” called out Tyndur.
“What you could see in the far distance does not shift in appearance. The whole fu… damned thing is a -what do they call them? – a mirage!”
Tyler looked at the far horizon and saw what the pair meant, each in their own characteristic way. The terrain in the background continued to change from one kind of ground to another – from forest to ice, then to desert and other biomes. Considering the turmoil the immediate environment wrought on the company, Tyler doubted if they would have noticed such a perplexing and alarming sight.
“Now the main question. How to find such an oasis of blessedly clear perception? My mind is struggling under the weight of these cursed changes in the land,” griped the einherjar.
“A powerful enough discharge of energy might clear an area and hold it steady for a while,” replied the Oracle. It was a statement which immediately resulted in the rest of the group staring at the draken. The young dragon-in-disguise smirked and flexed her arms.
Gullin was about to try out the suggestion when the mage abruptly stopped her. Tyler advised that they attempt it once a more acceptable area was reached. He didn’t like the notion of making camp or settling in among mudflats or a wetland. It was decided that they’d make the attempt once a forest shows up. If it works, then Habrok could do some hunting. There were animals about, said the ranger, who added that he could see the tracks made by familiar animals and a lot from unfamiliar ones. But he wasn’t sure if such markings were also affected by the shifting environment.
It took the company more than an hour of walking through the swamp soup before the scenery again shifted. This time it was back to a desert. Tyler could hear the curses of the group. Surprisingly, this time, Astrid proved to be the one more imaginative in vulgar cursing. They continued on their way, still marching in the direction indicated by Thyma. The only consolation for Tyler was that every step brought them closer to Eira, slow as their pace might be.
Suddenly, Tyler heard the ranger cry out for the company to stop and be on guard. He glanced at Habrok, who then pointed out something in the sky. Numerous dots, growing larger by the second. Even as he cursed his inability to scry for such intruders, a faint yet distinct unfriendly aura registered in his senses.
“One of the Punishments,” declared Thyma after a few seconds. “Furies.”
“The Erinyes?” asked Astrid.
“No, not the three goddesses, now called the Semnai. These are the Erinu of Mykḗnē, much older and savage creatures, kin to giants. Born of the blood of Uranus,” explained the Oracle. “I suggest we prepare for battle. These beings only know how to rend and tear mortals apart. No reasoning with them.”
“Good. I was getting bored anyway,” somebody called out from the group.
Tyler looked around. It didn’t sound like Tyndur and Asag was definitely not present. To his amazement, he found it was Gullin.
“Well, at least the scenery won’t change for a while. The landscape becomes stable when a Punishment shows its face,” continued Thyma helpfully. At those words, the mage could see Habrok quickly preparing his arrows.
Tartarus is in for a lot of surprises, reflected Tyler.
***
The mage saw that all of the companions were preparing themselves for the attack. But only Habrok, Gullin, and possibly Thyma, had any offensive capability against aerial foes. Checking his shields, the mage quickly confirmed that his guides were ready. Watching the approaching creatures, Tyler observed they kept some distance from each other.
Pity. It could have been like those birds of Ares outside Akrotiri, thought the waiting mage.
The enemy was still some distance away, and he wanted them to be closer to the company before he let loose. Tyler figured he’d wait for the ranger to start unleashing his arrows of fire and lightning before beginning with energy lances. An uncanny, yet small dust devil unexpectedly formed in front of the group, catching everyone’s attention.
Another fucked up entity. Probably a messenger of some sort, he thought irately.
Tyler caught himself and mused that the regular dose of the peculiar and his near-death experiences had clearly inoculated him against the fear and anxiety resulting from such typically frightful occurrences. Now that their presence was uncovered, he knew the attention of whoever ruled the realm would be on them. And it wasn’t Hades nor Iapetus, of that he was certain.
The swirling dust motes swiftly formed into the figure of a tall woman, wearing a tiara and a regal black gown, though the tattered bottom revealed barefoot, though dainty, feet. At the sight, Thyma was the first to speak, and her words shocked the mage.
“Oh, it’s you, your Highness, the bitch. I didn’t think you’d be able to wriggle your way from the mud into becoming the foul mouth of Tartarus,” declared the Oracle venomously as the rest of the group looked on in shock. Thyma had been restrained, calm, and collected throughout her stay with the company, and the mephitic reaction was totally unexpected. The mage didn’t recognize the entity, but he knew a catfight was in the offing. A more prudent man would have kept his mouth shut in such a situation, but Tyler’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Who is she?” he asked in a whisper. But the Oracle answered in a loud voice, loathing evident in her voice.
“That hideous bitch? Witch-Queen Pasiphae at your disservice. The wife of King Minos of Krete. The bull-fucker. The one
who cursed her husband to ejaculate poisoned creatures. Snakes, scorpions, take your pick,” replied the Oracle with thinly disguised hate and revulsion.
Yet the object of her virulent outburst merely gave a disdainful smile, and didn’t bite at the bait Thyma dangled. Instead, she wordlessly looked over the group. The mage noted that the Furies had stopped where they were, and gathered in an ominous and curiously quiet cloud of fangs and claws. Tyler assumed it was because of Pasiphae. It wouldn’t look good if Tartarus’s messenger couldn’t make herself heard over the din of screeches and hisses.
“You are not dead. Nor cursed to be here. Intruders. You are not welcome in this realm,” announced the Witch-Queen finally. “Leave and never return. My lord Tartarus gives his only warning.”
“And if we refuse?” asked Tyndur, casually swinging his battleaxe as he walked to Thyma’s side. It wasn’t blazing, noted the mage, though he knew how fast the einherjar could move. But if matters go the way of the gutter, Astrid might get to Pasiphae ahead of the warrior. The Valkyrie already had unsheathed her xiphoi and had adopted a ready stance.
Tyler knew things were hanging by a thread, and what Pasiphae demanded was not acceptable to the company. A mass of visible dark energy formed at the back of the woman and curled at her shoulders, giving the image of a snake’s hood.
“Then you’ll be thrown out of this domain. Alive or dead, it wouldn’t matter,” replied Pasiphae calmly.
“I’d be an aseptic drake if I were to listen to a dead bitch,” came Gullin’s low, throaty answer.
Tyler immediately instructed his guides to prepare to cast a shield against whatever enchantment the messenger of Tartarus flung at them. Hal and X were to weave whatever was left of their minuscule Elder energy through such defense. Tyler didn’t trust ordinary magic to do the trick. There was too much strangeness present in the energy matrix of Tartarus. Pasiphae stared at the mage with an expressionless face, though the lifted chin did give the impression of a haughty look. Tyler let it pass, blaming the seemingly arrogant pose to her previous life at court. She was a queen, after all. An ancient one, but the mage figured bad habits were hard to break.
“Your decision, Archmage?” asked the woman.
Great. My fucking title preceded me, thought Tyler, noting that an ornate, black staff had appeared in her hands.
“What they said,” smiled Tyler, raising his own staff as emphasis.
“So be it.”
***
The misty cloak of the queen promptly flowed upwards, became broader, and then dropped directly into the company, forming an inverted half-sphere that was clearly intended to capture the group within its space. Tyler didn’t want to know what awaited them inside that arcane prison. He was about to order his guides to quickly spear a large beam through Pasiphae when he heard Gullin give a scornful laugh.
“That’s all?” said the draken casually, who then stamped her right foot on the ground.
The swift action resulted in a thunderous vibration more sensed on the energy plane than in a physical reality. The power emitted by the draken spread from her location, and the mage could feel the tremendous collision of energies as ancient power met the chthonic energy of Tartarus. Tyler could sense that what Gullin released was not enough. Then he felt the additional infusion of might the draken added to what she released. It was a formidable surge of power and stunned the mage for a few seconds. But his momentarily disoriented mind perceived that Gullin succeeded when he felt something huge break like a glass cup. His staggered senses could hear the tinkling of broken glass, but it might have been his imagination.
As his eyes refocused, Tyler could see Pasiphae was gone. Even the waiting dots in the sky had disappeared. But the companions, except for Gullin and the Oracle, were all flat on the ground. The battle might have been on an ethereal plane, but its physical effects were very real. He glanced quizzically at Thyma whose right hand was on the draken’s shoulder.
“The bitch is gone. Good riddance,” the Oracle told him with smug satisfaction
“I mean, what happened?” asked the mage, walking towards the duo.
“The Queen carried with her a minute portion of her master’s power. Enough to kill or throw us out. What resulted was a struggle between energy born out of chaos and one from an ancient time when magic was in the very atmosphere of the First World. Unfortunately, Gullin is still young for her kind. She miscalculated the power needed and I lent a hand,” explained the Oracle wryly.
“Pasiphae is dead?” asked Tyler, raising an eyebrow. He knew death gleefully accompanied the company, but it wasn’t something he wanted to be part of its tradition. He could see Gullin, like the rest of the companions, was still recovering. But part of his mind was in shock. A tiny portion was more than enough to stagger and nearly overcome Gullin. What kind of energy are we talking about here?
“Those bound to Tartarus don’t die, Archmage. They’re already dead. Souls here merely dissipate and then reform themselves somewhere convenient,” answered the Oracle. “I’ve come across bits and pieces of lore on the consumption of souls, but I don’t think that applies in this realm.”
“What now?” asked Tyndur, who managed to stand up, though the warrior was slapping his helm, as if trying to remove cobwebs from his brain.
“The one who rules this realm won’t be happy. I do refuse to name him. We might call the being into our presence as you very well know. He had come to rule and be part of this reality after the Great Migration and had grown stronger as a result of his new dominion. A lot stronger,” said Thyma. The mage couldn’t fail to notice that the Oracle’s brow was furrowed with concern.
“Any clues as to who he is?” asked Tyler, reacting to the worried look on the companion’s countenance.
“Mortals and deities don’t matter to him. In the end, everything and everyone gets to know him personally.”
Chapter Three
Death Comes
Tyler assumed only Astrid, among the rest of the company, could guess the answer to the Oracle’s impromptu riddle. He had an idea of who it was. Kobu also could have heard or known about the entity. Unfortunately for the mage, nobody could or wanted to utter the name of the being, leaving Tyler with no idea of the equivalent Greek word. Yet it was immaterial as far as he was concerned, the ugly bastard was going to show up later whether the mage liked it or not.
The young Archmage turned his attention to their surroundings. It was still desert as far as he could see. Undulating dunes of sand seemed to be their lot. At the same time, it was apparent that the quick visit of the now-departed welcome party lasted granted some welcome stability in their surroundings. Tyler sighed. The entire venture felt Sisyphean. He needed a break to get his thoughts in order, and to do that, he had to wait for a propitious change in the scenery. Turning to the einherjar, he told Tyndur that the company would make camp where they were. The warrior nodded and went to Habrok.
“Here, Archmage?” asked Gullin as she moved to the now seated mage. Tyler could feel the sand’s heat and grit. He fully sympathized with the question, but he had his reasons.
“It’s not a good idea to continue for now,” replied Tyler tiredly. “We just told the very powerful lord of this realm to – excuse the term – fuck off. The terrain changes anyway, and I don’t fancy walking through a desert while waiting for a suitable transformation of the land. Better to wait here and grab some rest while we’re at it.”
“What if he sends somebody else? I am exhausted, and except for abilities inherent in my nature, I doubt if I could cast spells for a while,” said the young dragon.
“I haven’t participated yet in any of the games in this place, Gullin, and that means I can still play,” Tyler reminded the draken. “But I believe that, like any other experienced warlord, the ruler of this realm would watch for a while as he wondered what happened. He’ll come up with a plan. Eventually.”
“That is to our advantage. But the magic I fought was peculiar. Likewise ancient, and very po
tent. Be on your guard, Archmage. If such power nearly overcame a draken, young she may be, then there’s no telling how you would fare against such might,” warned Gullin.
Tyler just grinned and replied he’d take care of it if and when the time came. But inwardly, he was greatly worried. From what the draken described, ordinary magical energy would have no chance against such power. His only option now was Elder energy, which wasn’t in an amount sufficient even for one spell. He had to convert more. But the mage also knew he needed to understand the power of Tartarus. At least a part of it that he could use as a crowbar to pull it down to his height. Then he considered a saw might be a better term for what he envisioned.
“Thyma, you busy? I just would like to ask a few questions,” he called out.
The Oracle didn’t reply but walked towards Tyler and Gullin. The rest were already making camp, and thankfully, it appeared the ranger had two presenning with him: one to shelter the mage and Gullin, and the other nearer the campfire. Habrok was anticipating the cold night of the desert, as warned by Astrid. The Valkyrie’s stay in Kemet obviously taught her some useful tips, reflected Tyler. The man from the north would have been out of his element if not for Astrid.
The Accidental Archmage: Book Eight (Where Titans Walk) Page 3
