There’s a difference, according to the forest guardian. The Aztecha pantheon demanded blood, but what they really wanted was a higher level of belief. Nothing contributed to the attainment of such a strong and unshakeable collective faith than the shedding of mortal life. Brutal death laid bare in all its grisly, bloody glory also reinforced the convictions of their worshipers. It conveniently had the much-desired natural and intuitive gift of a submissive mortal psyche hemmed in by the unconscious fear of being the next sacrifice. But the pantheon itself doesn’t usually grant powers to mortals because of such sacrifices. If abilities were given, such came at a cost.
They turn their chosen into freaking zombies, immediately thought the mage, remembering the resurrected witch he fought back in Viracocha’s temple.
“Now what you call blood-mages are different,” resumed Eira. “My brother Nakki described it as a profane yet conveniently simple agreement between a dark entity and deranged, debauched and in many instances, incredibly short-sighted, mortal mage. Such fiends usually feed on blood since they lack the means to tap into the power granted by belief. Mortal blood, even with its diminished life-source, nourishes and empowers them. In exchange, they give a dollop of their unhallowed might.”
“I see,” replied Tyler simply. What Eira told him clarified some of the gaps in his suspicions.
“I would go with you if you need me,” offered Eira suddenly.
“No, no, no. Fossegrim Forest needs you now,” Tyler countered immediately, much frightened by the idea. He wouldn’t think twice about risking his life and limb, but to expose Eira to the kind of menaces he had encountered or would be facing was inconceivable. But what he said had truth to it. Fossegrim needed its forest guardian. She had been away for a long time.
“Hush now. Go to sleep, kerasti. Of all people, I know you need rest,” whispered Eira, calming him down and yet not giving a definite answer to the Archmage’s vehement protest.
Outside, the wind suddenly began to rise.
Chapter Twenty
Winds from the Past
“A deity comes,” blurted Eira as she quickly rose from the bed.
What now? inwardly fumed Tyler. Their sojourn in Fossegrim was supposed to be brief and the mage had expected it to be an untroubled one. A night’s rest after escorting Eira home and a few hours of respite for the rest of the company. The rest of the group was bivouacked just inside the woodland, guarded by Eira’s sentient trees and other magical creatures.
No aura of threatening danger, sire, replied Hal to his rushed query. But the magical signature appeared to be that of a deity of the wind. Of what pantheon, that matter’s unclear.
The young man found himself following Eira. The forest spirit could move unnaturally fast. Not teleportation-quick, but nearly there. That incredible speed left Tyler way behind.
The spouses found the company awake and ready when they reached the encampment. But they were greeted by the sight of Kobu arguing with Astrid and Se-Osiris. As he ran to the trio, snippets of the loud discussion could be heard above the howling wind. The ghost and the Valkyrie were demanding that the exile order the company to stand down.
The refusal of Kobu was understandable. A mass of roiling dark clouds was approaching Fossegrim Forest. Its magical nature made it stand apart from the darkness of the night, and flashes of lightning at its edges displayed just how large it was. All that was needed to make it a full-fledged storm was torrential rain. At least the winds, though blowing fiercely, haven’t reached flying cow levels.
“What’s this all about?” asked the Archmage, shouting to make himself heard.
When the trio noticed his arrival, Kobu stepped back and let the Archmage bear the brunt of the demands of the pair. After the initial bursts of outrage, Tyler gathered that Astrid knew who was coming. He glanced at the cloud. It had stopped just outside the woods and amazingly appeared to be waiting. Tyler assumed that the deity it obscured was expecting a sign or an invitation to emerge.
“It’s Boreas, my half-brother,” declared the Valkyrie. “He’s waiting for permission to show himself.”
Tyler nodded and then remembered that the gesture might not be seen due to the dim surroundings.
“Of course, he’s welcome. But to step inside Fossegrim, Eira’s permission would be needed. It’s her land,” answered the mage.
Boreas, mused the mage. From the name came the English boreal, a term referring to the north wind or the icy coldness it inflicted on the land.
No wonder it felt a lot colder than usual, he reflected. But the Greek god of the north wind was considerate. The fact that people weren’t frozen was a testament to the deity’s careful and thoughtful approach to the encampment. Tyler stole a glance at Thyma. He had expected the Oracle to be interested in the arrival of another Greek deity, but the woman had strangely moved deeper into the trees, clearly trying to avoid meeting Boreas.
His curiosity got diverted by Eira’s reply that she didn’t have any objection. According to the forest guardian, he was Astrid’s brother, and that was enough of a reference. The Valkyrie bowed to Eira and then looked at the waiting nimbus.
“Hey, Bor! Get down here, you icy bag of wind!” yelled the Valkyrie, shocking everybody in the process. It did show the close relationship Astrid had with the wind deities, short as her time with them might have been.
Bor? thought Tyler immediately. A cute enough nickname. But for one of the two dangerous wind deities? The other could bake you in scalding air currents, and this one… well, Boreas had options. A cold-bake, a decorative icicle, or a slow death by cold snow.
A young man, with unkempt beard and hair spiked with ice, appeared in front of them. Unlike many other male Greek gods, he wore white scale armor, though parts of it were also frozen in places. Another difference was the deity wore fur-lined trousers. He was the first Greek deity the mage saw with such attire. For the Archmage, that made him the first deity of Hellas with a distinct fashion sense.
Boreas bowed slightly to the Archmage and to Eira and then was promptly engulfed by the embrace of the Valkyrie. The rest of the company stood and quietly watched. An almost imperceptible disturbance in the energy around them led the mage to Cassius. It was a familiar spell, a scrying one. Tyler knew the Romanii mage was an inveterate seeker of knowledge. Still, the kind of magical examination the Archmage could discern was embarrassingly disturbing.
Fortunately, only a passive and low level of energy was involved, nothing that a trusting deity would suspect in the already magically-suffused environment of Fossegrim. But Tyler could sense the attempt, and it made him uncomfortable. It was sneaky, devious, and bordered on the unethical. It disturbingly reminded him of how scientific knowledge was pursued back home.
***
Astrid and her brother huddled for a while as the rest kept a respectful distance. The two new additions providentially took their cue from the rest and didn’t even ask questions from members of the group. As he waited, Tyler magically examined the area around the forest, but nothing seemed out of place. However, he noticed that Astrid was becoming animated the longer the whispered discussion continued. He could only speculate what news could have such an effect on the Valkyrie. But the mage acknowledged that whatever it was, he was going to be deeply involved in it.
Finally, the duo finished and with a hurried farewell, Boreas left the wondering assembly. Everything went quickly. Even Tyler thought the Greek deity of the north wind would be around for a longer period. It was a family reunion after all. Then he saw Astrid making her uncharacteristically slow way towards him. Her shoulders slumped, and invisible weights seemed to try to keep her feet tethered to the ground.
Fuck. Problem. Major problem, thought the mage immediately.
“Sire, a word? And advice if possible,” said the Valkyrie as she reached Tyler.
“Of course, Astrid,” replied the Archmage, taking the woman by her shoulders and moving away from the group. Eira let Tyler be, and Kobu didn’t try to maintain his
usual guarded proximity to the mage.
“Now, what is it?” whispered Tyler as soon as he deemed them far enough. Still, as a precaution against eavesdropping ears, the mage asked his guides to put up barriers against nosy ghosts and a very curious Romanii mage.
“It’s my stepmother. She’s on the warpath, hunting me. She learned that my father visited me when I was in Kemet, and to her, that was unacceptable. It was an acknowledgment of paternity. She could turn a blind eye to rumors and suspicions, but not to an overt act of filial confirmation,” explained Astrid quietly. Tyler had never seen the Valkyrie so downcast.
“What’s the big deal? It’s not as if she could do anything about such incomprehensible anger. Personally, I still can’t understand what’s the big fuss. Your father accepted you as her daughter before the world. I don’t see any problem with that,” replied the Archmage. He meant what he said. Tyler couldn’t wrap his head around their worries about the consequences of a father acknowledging paternity.
“Ah, sire. You don’t know women. My stepmother is a proud being. She could ignore the indiscretions of my father, provided no blood connection was ever acknowledged. Such admission was tantamount to saying she was duped, tricked, and made a fool by my father. That won’t go unchallenged. Since she couldn’t take it out on Aeolus, she’ll take my head as recompense,” explained Astrid with deep sadness. “My father has many children – six other sons, and that’s from what I know – but I guess presenting me, a half-human at that, to a major deity of another pantheon was beyond her limit.”
“Then we’ll handle her if ever she comes this way. Not that I intend to kill your stepmother,” immediately reassured Tyler as the possible interpretations of handling Astrid’s stepmother clearly included violent and terminal options.
“Who’s your stepmother? I apologize, I forgot to ask,” asked Tyler, feeling foolish after realizing he had been talking about somebody whose name he didn’t even know.
“Iphimedeia. A nymph and the daughter of a river-god. One-time consort of the god Poseidon. I believe her jealousy started when Juno offered my father one of her nymphs – Deiopea – as his wife in that Aeneas incident. That nymph was the most beautiful in her entourage and much sought after by deities and heroes alike. Zeus would have made a move if not for Hera being directly in his way. Iphimedeia was but a consort of my father then. After that, her jealous anxiety worsened and bordered on madness,” explained Astrid.
“Aeneas incident?” asked Tyler. He was already getting lost in the convoluted nature of Greek myth.
“That catfight between Juno and Venus, or Hera and Aphrodite, according to the Greeks. Juno wanted my father to sink the hero’s ships. Though it all started with that damned apple. Then mortals ended up as the usual sacrificial pawns in the ensuing mad brawl,” said Astrid. “You could ask Thyma for more details. She’s a lot more knowledgeable than I am.”
‘Wait. Let me get this straight. She ditched Poseidon, a member of the ruling triumvirate of the Greek pantheon, in favor of Aeolus?” observed the surprised mage.
“More like Poseidon ditched her and fobbed her off to my father. The Greek male deities do tend to behave abominably, and they say Zeus was the womanizer. Yet I doubt she left just like that. With nary a whimper. Poseidon must have given her a lot of power to move house. Do note that they already had children at that point,” remarked the Valkyrie. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she also got similar concessions from my father. On a lot of occasions.”
“What occasions?”
“Every time Aeolus got caught with his hands in the cookie jar,” replied Astrid, shaking her head.
“You do know that we’re not going to idly stand by if she comes after you,” warned Tyler.
“I know. We could handle a deranged wife with powers of the wind and the sea, but madness born out of jealousy is a complex and dangerous thing. Altogether different. The only good thing about this situation is I could say she does love my father. Otherwise, Aeolus would have been dead by now,” mused the female warrior, who then noticed Tyler’s blank look.
“Ah, sire. Pray you don’t get to be on the receiving end of such womanly spite. I honestly believe Eira’s going to be much worse if ever it came to that point,” came the Valkyrie’s caution.
Any comment from Tyler was lost in the abrupt arrival of a familiar aura. The ghost mage apparently couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore.
“Polite fellow. Considering his domain and the north wind’s reputation, all the nasty rumors seem baseless,” commented Se-Osiris impishly. “Now, what was that all about?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Making a Heartless Mage
The rest of the night was spent keeping the rest of the party updated on the new development and discussing what it meant for their planned journey. Astrid added the unfortunate tidbit that her brother also told her that somehow Iphimedeia learned that the Valkyrie was in Skaney. The other Greek wind deities were hard at work trying to find out who told the murderous nymph.
But as far as their destination was concerned, nobody had any idea what to expect. Even the Oracle was stumped. Banna was a peculiar memory, Thyma said in a puzzled tone. Some knowledge of it must be in her mind, but a mysterious block prevented that specific lore from surfacing. All she was aware of was a strong sense of the forbidden, of a geas-like prohibition.
“I don’t believe little things like that have never stopped us,” remarked the Archmage, to the laughter of the companions, again except for the pair of mages. Tyler gave the duo the needed leeway. They were not part of the shared experiences of the group. Only the ghost might have some idea of what Tyler was talking about. Still, Se-Osiris could have been happily encouched in the afterlife of Kemet during those periods.
Yet the young Archmage noticed that when Banna was mentioned, Se-Osiris noticeably stared at all of them. But even as a specter, the night hid his expression.
The blasted poltergeist knows something, concluded the mage, wondering how to pry such information out of the ghostly mage.
After the group had discussed the new threat at length, Thyma, Gullin, and Eira took Astrid aside and formed their own gathering, away from the prying ears of males, apparition or not. As a result, Kobu was forced to assign sentry duties to the rest as he guarded Tyler. Nobody went near their bedrolls. Apparently, the threat to Astrid woke everybody up.
The circle of the women broke up after a considerable time had passed. The Archmage stared at the horizon. It was nearly dawn. Thankfully, the departure of Boreas had lifted some of the coldness afflicting the area.
“The happy sun will be shortly above us, husband. The forest now calls me to attend to its long-neglected needs, and your duties demand an Archmage’s attention. The fates conspire to deny us even a night together,” said Eira with a wry face and in a disappointed tone. “We had time together back in Tartarus and on the journey home. That will have to suffice for now.”
“I am sorry, Eira. I’ll make it up to you. Believe me. I will make it up to you,” replied Tyler softly. Yet a resentful idea arose in his thoughts even as he spoke.
Once I get the ability to keep these bastards in line.
Still, deep in his awareness, a tiny sarcastic voice reminded him of how many pantheons and solitary beings of power were on Adar. And that’s not even counting the rogue Elders and entities he hasn’t met yet.
***
“You’re really serious about that mage-emperor idea of yours?” asked Tyler as he sat beside the Romanii. Cassius had kept himself apart from the rest of the company busy with departure preparations.
“Called it what you wanted to describe it in the first place, Archmage. Obsession. Yes, I am. It’s the only logical and inevitable pursuit this mortal finds worthy. I am already on borrowed time as it is. The claws of death can only be delayed, even magically, for a finite period,” replied the Romanii grimly.
“Assuming the pantheon of your land saw no objection in such a plan, how the hell would you be a
ble to manage such an empire? Death and destruction aside, things which I believe you are definitely capable of, there’s more to being an emperor than achieving a conquest. You are, as you admitted, quite far from the line of royal succession. I fear rebellions would be your lot, bringing more death and misery to the Romanii.”
Cassius smiled and calmly answered spoke. But his reply was far from the response Tyler expected.
“You know, magic is a funny thing. It is accessible to those with natural ability and then wielded according to the skills present in the person and the capacity of one’s body to retain magical reserves. But it was never made a common profession or art in the world we’ve left behind. I believe it had something to do with the finite and unfortunately, dwindling, reserves in that reality. I really can’t blame the pantheons from restricting its use by mortals. More mouths at the well, so to speak,” said Cassius, looking at the passing clouds overhead. The sun had begun to poke its opportune, warm tendrils through the blue firmament. It was going to be a clear day.
The Accidental Archmage: Book Eight (Where Titans Walk) Page 25
