The Accidental Archmage: Book Eight (Where Titans Walk)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “Quite a spell,” remarked Tyler, who then noted – “Wish you could teach me this one.”

  The woman gave him a polite smile as she walked closer. Though walked wasn’t really applicable in her instance. Floated would be a better word thought the mage. Remembering Se-Osiris, a quick glance told him that even a ghost wasn’t immune to what the avatar did. It was a relief to Tyler. It was too early in the game for the deities to know he had a direct line to this world’s manifested form.

  “Those deities have similar spells. Why don’t you ask them?” asked the avatar. Somehow, Tyler felt the question was a test of sorts.

  “Selfish wazzocks, the lot of them. Even the kinder ones,” replied Tyler in a conversational tone.

  “Wazzock?”

  “Sorry about that. A vulgar word in the First World meaning know-it-all,” explained the mage with a grin. Talking to the avatar was more straightforward compared to deities. Somehow, the magic around her communicated English terms flawlessly, though the meaning could be unknown.

  “Mortals. Humans have very imaginative ways of mangling their language. But I guess it’s how your race tries to improve it. Not that I am judging your kind and its use of strange, new words,” the woman laughed softly. “Now on the matter of deities and time magic. There is a subtle difference between their use of magic to ostensibly stop time. Do remember that no entity could actually stop time. Not even Fate.”

  The woman’s explanation was clear and brief. What deities do was actually shift to an adjacent and accessible pocket dimension. Even the unbelievable speed displayed by some made use of such ability. But the facility to stay in such regions was limited, especially for beings dependent on magic for their existence. The absence of familiar magical energy would eventually kill them, and force their bodies to consume itself. Unless, of course, the magical being found a minor dimension with similar latent magic or a means to course power to it. Many such places had dangerously strange energies that have deleterious effects on magical beings and mortals dependent on magic. Some dimensions could even kill outright a magical creature not attuned to its reality.

  The avatar also knew the spell, but she preferred to use it to slow time in her reality. But such a conjuration came with a cost conditioned on the area involved and the possible resistance of those caught within its field. It was an explanation that immediately grabbed the mage’s attention.

  “The vast field around those two monsters was your doing? It’s really just a massive spell which slowed time?” asked Tyler.

  “Just a spell. Simple words. But creating that vast and powerful field is draining my power. It can’t be kept in place forever. The duo waging their battle inside that arena are almost mindless entities, but one is bound to prevail. When that happens, the victor will notice that it has been trapped inside a time field,” clarified the woman.

  “What will happen then?”

  “No being wants to be trapped,” answered the woman quietly.

  “Shit.” Yet another rude reaction, but Tyler didn’t apologize. Considering the nature of this world, the expression would, or should, be universal. Unless Tyndur was the exception to the general rule which would mean the einherjar could be deemed the rudest and most foul-mouthed human – or at least, once-human – in the entire planet.

  Besides, he suspected that mages, unless deranged, were held to a higher degree of civility and behavior than warriors. Tyler was inclined to think that even evil mages weren’t expected to use foul language. Terrible, heinous magic, yes, but crass dialogue would be deemed beneath a practitioner of the art. Evil or not, such individuals were considered to be living repositories of knowledge.

  “You have to find a solution to that problem. Both are not part of this reality and outside the remit of my power. Nor would Fate allow me to intervene, until the time came that either proved to be an actual threat to Adar. I prefer not matters not to reach that point. The ensuing drain on my resources would threaten the availability of magical power in this world. And they are not the only threats I have to attend to,” came the explanation.

  “And you have that rock demon race coming to this world,” added Tyler, remembering the deadly rocky demon. Somehow, he recognized that Adar already knew of the threat.

  “That one is your concern, Archmage. The true nature of the one you call Asag was hidden from me because he came over during the Great Migration and first appeared on your world,” said the woman. “There are solitary creatures, similar in bent, hiding in the nooks and crannies of Adar, but they have not proven to be threats to this world’s existence. Yet.”

  “Why me? I’ve got a lot to attend to already,” complained Tyler sourly.

  “You don’t want me dividing my attention and my power among several dangers. Spread me too thin, and even a world’s magic won’t be enough.”

  “That sucks,” the involuntary comment spewed from the mage’s mouth. It was a reaction hastily followed by a stumbling apology. It might be an accepted observation or comment back on Earth, but Tyler wasn’t sure about the norms and nuances of language on Adar.

  “No need to apologize, Archmage,” laughed the avatar softly. “I sense the sentiment behind the comment. Another of your First World expressions, I presume. Though I am surprised at the disjunction between the term used and the feeling sought to be conveyed.”

  “It’s a remark conveying an awful situation,” Tyler clarified further.

  There were many other expressions, many of which could be considered vulgar in polite society. Again, Tyler reminded himself to watch his language around entities of power. It was easy to fall back into the language patterns of Earth during stressful situations or unguarded moments. He didn’t have the ability of the einherjar to quickly come up with snarky comments or even the warrior’s facility for imaginative cursing. Tyndur surprisingly didn’t piss off people most of the time, unless he wanted to let them know he’s insulting them.

  “A bad situation, indeed. But not without its opportunities and solutions. That’s where you come in. Why do you think this world took an interest in your birth as a mage? A new and unknown channel or source of power. Unbeholden to petty deities. All that was needed was the reassurance that he holds the best interests of Adar at heart. It’s a gamble, but even the mighty do play dice with fate. Don’t disappoint me,” said the avatar, with the last remark stated with a pointed look at Tyler.

  The encounter was starting to wear Tyler down, coming so soon after Sigtuna, and right at a time when so many revelations and possibilities had been laid bare before him. Tyler had questions. A lot of them, but his mental state at the moment wasn’t up to the challenge. Fortunately, the woman saw his distress and exhaustion.

  “We’ll meet again when you’re in better condition. But your plan to travel to Banna is fraught with risks. I strongly suggest quickly finishing what you have to do and then leave that land behind. It’s a giant hornet’s nest. Reminding its inhabitants of their tragic past inflicted upon them by the Great Migration will create more headaches. Nothing that a judicious application of massively destructive magical power wouldn’t cure, but distractions and side quests would be ill-advised given recent events and what’s coming,” advised the woman.

  “You mean Asag and his race?”

  “That one’s on your plate. Those misguided dolts of Tartarus are puppies compared to a race of fully empowered Asags. But the various high draken houses might be of help. They’re visitors like you, though with a far higher devotion to their new home than the rest of the newcomers,” said the woman. “Clearly, these are busy and interesting times. But I believe we’ve sprung the trap early. An excellent turn in the fork of possibilities. All we need to do now is deal with the consequences. Ideally, without destroying me in the process.”

  “Oh, about the draken houses, that would be except for those already with me. They’re already guardians against a far more sinister threat,’ continued the avatar. “The bigger problem we’re trying to prevent entry into the
world.”

  “You mean those things I saw in that cavern?” asked Tyler.

  The woman nodded.

  “Those monstrosities and the energy they bring.”

  Tyler didn’t have an answer to that one. Yet what stuck in his mind was the sudden serving of more problems on the horizon. And here he was, initially thinking Loki was the problem, only to find out that Iapetus was the mad god’s puppet master. Tyler wasn’t even sure if that treacherous drama ended with the Titan. He breathed out a heavy sigh, waited a few seconds, and then turned to the avatar.

  “So, can you teach me the skill? Slowing time to even half of what I have experienced would be useful,” Tyler persisted. He figured he needed all the tools he could get with all those new migraines on the horizon.

  “It’s an ability which the Archmage has to learn on his own. A dangerous spell. One capable granting immense advantages. Slowing time would enable you to cut an unbelievable path of destruction among your enemies, deities or otherwise. Hopefully, by the time you’ve learned it, the maturity needed to exercise it responsibly had also been acquired,” said the avatar somberly.

  ***

  Sleep didn’t come easy to the young Archmage. The words of Cassius came again and again to the forefront of his mind. He knew part of what the mage said was psychotically driven. Still, some observations were valid and meshed with what he had accepted as accurate.

  The deities, for one. Except for a handful, what they’re actually interested in is more power. It enabled them to exist and dominate, giving them more magical fuel in the process. Everything so far – problems and all – had been due to such selfish pursuits. Yet the pantheons were but a reflection of man’s nature. What Tyler had seen in the time he had been on Adar merely supported the assertion that the best and worst of humanity could be found in such beings.

  Yet Tyler had to admit that a few lunatic mages could have found a way to either create their own gods. Or even allow some dimensional entities to come over to the realities of the First and Second Worlds. As far as he knew, the squids and their ilk were hard at work trying to achieve the latter. The bad news of the equation was that Tyler had become the desired catalyst for such efforts. He had managed to avoid them for now, and from what the mage had observed, they were powerful dark entities.

  Tyler needed to be stronger and more knowledgeable if he wanted to survive a direct confrontation. Until now, time had passed without any unwanted visitations, except for the squids’ presence in Tartarus. But that was previously announced to Tyler, and the invasion was to prevent Iapetus from getting his hands on the Archmage. He knew it was only a matter of time before the assholes found a way to show their butt-ugly faces.

  He needed to go to Banna. Tyler knew he couldn’t put it off anymore. He could sense the call, the need, in the ether. Whatever concerns on the continent demanded his attention, but they all could wait. A dead Archmage, or worse, an enslaved one, would be Tyler’s fate if he delayed once more.

  Suddenly, Eira’s hand touched his arm. In the dimness of their house and comfort of the bed, being alone with his beloved merely emphasized to Tyler how much he missed the woman beside him. Eira’s presence calmed him down. In fact, it was only due to her warm and comforting nearness that Tyler was able to get his thoughts to settle down and then attempt to make sense of what drove them all into such a frenzy in the first place. Unfortunately, it also meant he couldn’t sleep.

  “A lot is bothering you, husband. I could sense it, and your aura does give it away,” came Eira’s soft voice.

  “It’s that obvious?” answered Tyler bemusedly. His wife’s voice had made him value more their present intimacy. Such instances of physical closeness were now few and far between.

  “It is, at least to me. But I do have the advantage of the locket you gave me. Its magic had become stronger. Wearing it for such a long time does enhance its strength. That, and my love for you,” continued Eira quietly.

  The young Archmage, notwithstanding his amusement, was caught in a bind. He had suspicions, theories, and plans. Yet these were all, for the most part, built on conjectures. Nor did he want to burden Eira with his weighty frustrations about being used as a pawn, treated as a tool, or even as a mortal who was shanghaied into taking on the onerous burden of making sense out of Adar. And that doesn’t include facing the unimaginable madness of the powerful entities threatening its existence in one way or another.

  “What’s bothering you?” persisted the forest spirit.

  “It’s still a game, Eira. Even with what I know now and my newly-discovered abilities, it’s still a game, and I continue to be but a piece on the board,” replied Tyler wearily.

  “And what did I tell you the first time such a concern was raised by my dear husband of a worrywart? You forget important advice, Archmage. Not that I blame you. I could only imagine the horrendous path your benefactors had pushed you to travel. Remember what I said before – make sure you reach a point where you make the rules. That way, you won’t be a pawn anymore,” said Eira gravely.

  Tyler didn’t answer. He now recalled what she said a long time ago. To a great extent, Eira was right. Yet, even if he achieved such a level, there were still more powerful forces at play, and inevitably, the fun and games of those major league players would affect Adar and its Archmage indirectly.

  “Tell me what you want to share. At least, some of your burdens would be lightened,” added Eira, noting the young man’s silence. Fear rose in the guardian of Fossegrim Forest that she might have added to the questions and concerns beating down on her husband.

  The young man noticed the subtle shift in the discussion and immediately grasped what happened. He turned and tightly hugged Eira. He didn’t need to say anything. After some time, he relaxed and gathered his thoughts. He decided to focus on the present composition of the company. They still had a lot on their plate.

  “I need a tank,” said Tyler. “Kobu can’t do the job as he considers guarding me as more important.”

  “What’s a tank?”

  The question was asked just as Tyler realized he had reverted back to gamer-speak. Considering the origin of the word, there was simply no way Eira could understand what he meant if Tyler started with the typical definition of the term. He swiftly reduced the concept to that of a melee fighter, something that his wife could follow.

  “How about Astrid then? She makes close fighting look easy,” ventured Eira.

  “She’s air support. Thyma, the long-range damage dealer, and Habrok’s the marksman. I can’t rely on those two mages. Unknown and untested. Se-Osiris is even prohibited from taking lives, and I haven’t even talked to Cassius about his limitations. For all I know, the fellow’s a blood-mage,” remarked Tyler.

  “What’s a blood-mage?” came another question.

  The query momentarily stumped the Archmage. Again, the mage realized that he was using gamer or fantasy concepts practiced in the First World. So, the young man tried to explain in terms which a native of Adar would understand.

  “Oh, we have that here, but they are called by different names depending on the culture or civilization. But they usually act as agents of a dark being. Such madmen are few and far between, excluding those belonging to pantheons like the Aztecha, which continue to make it part of their religion,” replied Eira.

  “Even the Norse pantheon once upon a time demanded human sacrifices,” she added in a whisper.

  “Nakki had warned me about such mortals, “continued Eira in her normal voice. “They usually appear to be fair, generous, and honorable, until the time came to slit your throat and offer the blood to the dark being they worship.”

  “Such craziness does exist in the First World. Rare instances involving rabid dogs disguised as humans. Power now on Earth is gauged by wealth. With such worldly goods, one could indirectly rule entire nations and even determine how humans think,” replied the mage with distaste.

  “Really? Base metal as the foundation of power? Objects which a H
igh Mage could create? Not that they would, such practices are highly frowned upon by rulers and deities alike,” commented Eira with amusement. “Magic shouldn’t have disappeared from the First World. It provides the fortuitous means for either great vengeance or boundless altruism, and everything in between.”

  Indeed, it is, reflected Tyler, thinking about Cassius and the man’s ambitions.

  “I would call the Aztecha blood-mages, though they’re just being used, and not only by their gods,” remarked the young man, continuing the exchange. He had to admit it felt good to voice out some of his observations and concerns. Talking to Eira, even within the parameters he had set, lessened the weight on his mind. If it was therapy, then he’d happily take it anytime.

  His wife corrected him in a soft and conversational voice. She could have adopted a lecturing tone, but thankfully, she didn’t. Not that Tyler would mind at this point. He needed to learn the nuances and subtleties of magic in this world. Eira wasn’t way up there on the list of experts, but she knew more than him and thoroughly enjoys his trust.