The Accidental Archmage - Book Five

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  Loki spake:

  13. “In horses and rings | thou shalt never be rich,

  Bragi, but both shalt thou lack;

  Of the gods and elves | here together met

  Least brave in battle art thou,

  (And shyest thou art of the shot.)”

  They were all young.

  Tyler immediately turned to the Rumpr-lookalike.

  “How old are you? he asked, thinking he knew what the answer would be.

  “Not too old but not too young either,” came the reply.

  The mage mentally kicked himself. I should have expected that.

  “I mean compared to Rumpr himself. And I never got what you called yourself,” he countered.

  “Compared to my father? I’m an infant, no, an idea yet to be born. That’s how young my father is, and as to my name, I already said you get to name us. Or give us our final names. But I call myself Birki for now, a Nordic word for the birch tree. Though if we had met in another land, I would have adopted a name in the language of that realm.”

  “Then Birki you shall be,” said Tyler. He turned his attention back to the gathering. Everybody had stopped and stared at him when the door was opened. It had been a noisy and unruly crowd just before his entrance, but the silence was temporary.

  After a few moments of respite, the bickering and childish play continued. Two misty shapes, one gray and the other darker in hue, were chasing a very young girl, with the pursuers occasionally forming hands, trying to catch her hair. Another young girl, winged this time, was playing “push-the-other-person-back-harder” with yet another girl wearing an Aztecah headdress.

  At one end of the table sat a boy of around twelve years of age, silent and morose. At his side was another youngster of roughly the same age talking to him, uncaring whether his listener was paying any attention—though strangely, the one speaking appeared to have a vague outline. He seemed to fade in and out and the mage could see right through him.

  “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” whispered Birki. “But do make a good impression, it will make my job a lot easier.”

  “But they’re just kids! How am I going to do this?” exclaimed Tyler, but in low voice.

  “Correction, lad. They appear to be mortals, but they’re not. Well, those who have temporal forms at least. Always remember they’re energies. Reflections of power. They appear human because their master has a mortal shape. As for me, my final form is subject to your decision. And do note that the only reason they’re not fighting to tear each other apart is the fact that we are all subject to your will.”

  The mage looked at Birki.

  “I think I prefer you in this form. Among other things, it will remind me of my first struggles in this world,” Tyler told the being.

  “It will sound self-serving, but good choice, lad. Now I suggest you call matters to order before things get out of hand. The forest spirit has lost her temper,” said Birki.

  Tyler looked at the subject of Birki’s attention. The young girl being chased by the two shapes had stopped and a shimmering nimbus of forest green had surrounded her. Her tormentors had also halted but a dark shield was forming to their front.

  “Why don’t you stop them?” Tyler quickly told Birki.

  “Ah, that’s one of the rules. When you’re present, I can’t do anything to discipline these little terrors. You have to step up and manage matters.”

  “Wait, forest spirit?” he inquired, surprised at the description.

  “Yes. Actually, the first energy in the staff, but she never grew until recently. You didn’t think this artifact would be in Fossegrim Forest for that length of time without some of its power permeating the staff, did you?” said Birki.

  “How come you became the guardian if she was the first?”

  “Pulled seniority, lad. Ellri and all that. Not to mention my form was more complete,” Birki answered with a grin.

  Tyler absentmindedly nodded as he watched the impending confrontation promise an eruption of magical power. Inside, he was panicking, though the rest of the group didn’t appear concerned. Angry displays of magical energies appeared the norm for them.

  Duck shit, Tyler thought as he frantically tried to think of a way to restore order. Dammit, the mage again chastised himself as he instinctively stamped his right foot down. Hard.

  A loud explosive blast arose from the impulsive action. The entire structure violently shuddered. Tyler could see large cracks forming on the ground outside the window. Trees near the bastion toppled. The mage stood in shock at the unexpected results.

  “That was a bit strong, lad. Even this keep felt its effects,” said Birki, rising from the floor. “This is a reality subordinate to your whims. Unless of course, something comes in and changes it or part of it. But I think you’ve got their attention now.”

  ***

  With his display of power, the mage finally got the disorderly and noisy group to sit down at the table. Even the talkative boy kept quiet, though his shape still had the weird amorphous quality. Tyler stared at the faces looking at him.

  “Now. Let’s begin. Do you know who I am?” he asked, keeping his voice calm and low. The gathered heads all nodded. Birki didn’t sit down but stood at Tyler’s side.

  “Who am I?” Tyler continued, gesturing at the winged girl.

  “You’re the First Mage, our lord and master,” came the chorused reply.

  “Good. Now to business. I apologize for not visiting earlier. I was otherwise occupied,” he announced. To his surprise, the spirits all nodded.

  They could observe what was happening around the staff, Tyler realized. For a moment, it alarmed him. Then he caught himself. It was judging magical entities by human standards. The young mage noted that he had not fully changed his perspective. At least he had stopped viewing Adar through Earth’s value systems and social norms. That mollified his chagrin to some extent.

  “But let’s get the preliminaries done. Forms and names. I won’t impose any name on you if you wish to be called by another. This fellow by my side already has his name and final form. He’s Birki and your guardian if I’m not around. Let’s start with those on my right side,” said the mage. The two spirit forms were seated beside each other. Then Tyler discovered he didn’t have an idea of what some of the energy shapes were—their origins and powers.

  “Tell me first what you are as I point you out,” he promptly continued. Tyler turned his full attention to the two large vapors.

  “We have no names,” answered the gray cloud of mist closest to him. “We are energies born of Phobos and Deimos. Terror and fear arising from battle.”

  Figures, thought Tyler.

  “We have no preferences as to our names. We leave the matter to you. As to our forms, the male form would be much preferred,” added the darker mass of cloud.

  “You shall be known as Machi,” said Tyler as he pointed to the gray cloud. “Your brother shall be known as Polemos.”

  The two shapes gave an imitation of a bow, slightly bending the top of their forms.

  “Battle and War. In the language of Hellas. Quite appropriate,” commented Birki. Tyler gestured to the guardian to come closer. Then he whispered a very important query.

  “How do I give them their shapes?”

  Birki looked at him with disbelieving eyes and an incredulous expression.

  “You don’t know?” came the whispered reply, tinged with some suspicion that it was a trick on the part of the mage.

  “No. Would I be asking you if I knew?” Tyler dryly answered.

  “By the pretensions of Hrun! Lad, I told you this reality was subject to your will. Start with that,” Birki replied in a weary tone. “Even those who have human forms need completion.”

  Tyler glanced at the two shapes. He didn’t want to ask any more questions of Birki.

  Come to think of it, for a First Mage, the question sounded stupid.

  The mage decided to start with Machi, the gray shape. He concentrated, focusi
ng his will on the amorphous mass, ordering it to take the form of a male. The mage didn’t specifically select a boy pattern, worried that it would limit the growth of the energy later on. A minute passed and the cloud began to take on the distinctive two legs, a body, two arms, and a head.

  As the image became clearer and the energy concentrated in the shape, Tyler willed the forming figure to take on the appearance of what it should be—a reflection of itself. He held the command on the mass for another minute before the pattern assumed a definite persona, that of an eight-year-old boy with Mediterranean features, but gray hair. The face was serious yet with playful eyes. Surprisingly, it was dressed in the armor of a hoplite. The mage broke his focus and let the figure complete itself.

  That was exhausting, Tyler told himself. Two down, six to go.

  Polemos was an easier task. He concluded it must be the experience in making Machi’s form. But what resulted was a young boy, also in hoplite armor, with a lively mien but serious eyes. The hair was black. As with his brother, he extended his thanks to the mage.

  So, they can be polite. And behaved, thought Tyler. Yet again the weariness started. He had to put off the next one for a few minutes. Then he thought of asking Birki about the malaise resulting from the magical exercise.

  “Why is it so tiring?” he asked with a whisper.

  “It’s your first time to do this and there’s quite a number of entities waiting for you to conduct the exercise. But it would be faster and less draining if they’re closer to you and there’s direct body contact. A hand, a shoulder,” answered Birki.

  Now he tells me, mused Tyler, but not without some degree of irritation.

  Feeling recovered, he gestured to the third boy to approach, the one who appeared to be fading in and out. The boy stood up and went to him. Tyler shifted his chair to the right and gestured for the boy to stand in front.

  “Now, who might you be?” he asked with a smile.

  “A vestige of the entity you know as Wilan,” was the answer he got to his astonishment. Tyler looked at Birki.

  “How could that be?”

  “Well, you did spend a lot of time in the temple and went exploring in its innermost sanctum. Not to mention interacting with the various energies found there,” replied Birki.

  “But I also spent time in Dionysus’s inn, but I don’t see his counterpart in here,” observed Tyler.

  “Good for everyone, lad. The wine god was a handful when he was growing up. You stayed as a guest but stayed out of his magic. We got strands of energy here and there enough to be used by the children to become stronger. Same with the wisps from the pantheons you visited. Even that Aztecah war god contributed—unawares, of course. Within a certain distance, a deity’s aura unavoidably releases power to the ether. Energy is energy. With a tiny amount, origins matter no more. How it is used determines whether it is of the light or the infernal blackness.”

  “I have a lot of questions for you after I finish. I have to understand how this staff works,” said Tyler as he turned his attention back to the boy in front of him. The strange quality of energy making up the entity still puzzled him.

  “Why do you keep fading in and out? Your brothers and sisters have a specific shape. They either have solid mortal forms or still are misty clouds, though the latter isn’t true anymore, considering these two have mortal figures already,” said Tyler as he nodded in the direction of Machi and Polemos. The pair grinned impishly.

  Now they have hands to play with the forest spirit’s hair. I hope Birki’s talents include putting back torn extremities, the mage told himself.

  “The Staff God was never able to interact with the rod long enough for me to gain a solid shape. I am incomplete and even my memory has gaps,” answered the being.

  “I am sorry. I should have gotten him to touch the staff for a period of time,” answered Tyler, pitying the situation of the boy.

  “Oh, I doubt if you would be able to get him to do that, master. Wilan knows what will happen if he holds onto the weapon for a long time. And he maintains a strong, nearly impenetrable, barrier around himself. My memory is indistinct, but there appeared to be a few instances in the past where that exactly happened. I felt consternation, a lot of worry and effort on his part as he resolved the ensuing problems.”

  “I guess we have to work with what we have,” replied Tyler. “And by what name do you wish to be called?”

  “Apulli.”

  “Lad, that means powerful in Quechua. Isn’t that being presumptuous?” Birki addressed the boy.

  “I intend to be a powerful entity. That’s the only way we can be of proper service to the First Mage,” the energy being answered in all seriousness. “Hopefully, I can regain the full power of creation… and destruction wielded by the oldest of the gods.”

  I like his attitude. A leader in the making, I hope, thought Tyler.

  “Then Apulli you shall be called,” decided the mage. “Give me your hands.”

  “Remember, you are part of a family now. Protect and care for your siblings,” Tyler told Apulli as the magical process started. The boy nodded and the mage noticed the playfulness in the eyes was gone for a moment, replaced by a profound depth of purpose.

  What an exceptional boy. Playful and childlike yet clearly capable of understanding adult concepts. From what I have seen, they’re all more or less like that. Is Elder energy responsible for such individuality? With or without me, Adar will be changed when these children reach their full potential as a group.

  It was as Birki said. A lot easier and less tiring. As Apulli went back to his seat, the other boy had already stood up and was walking toward the mage. Tyler noticed a limp accompanied his strides.

  “Why are you limping?” the mage whispered when the boy reached him.

  “A legacy of the original source of my being,” came the straightforward answer. Tyler looked at the boy’s feet and saw he did have a clubfoot, same as Hephaestus.

  “Ah, you’re the one I have to thank for all of those fiery ground eruptions.”

  The boy smiled.

  “Extremely talented. The imagination of youth and the power of his forebear. Quite a potent combination,” volunteered Birki with pride. “He built this keep. It’s made of indestructible adamantium. A magical metal uniquely their pantheon’s work. Though the lad is quite artistic. The metal looks like stone. Feels like it too.”

  The boy smiled at the unexpected praise.

  “My thanks,” said Tyler. “Any ideas about your name?”

  “Vathys. Deep in the language of the Greeks.”

  Birki smiled as he heard the word.

  “Now Vathys, would you like me to complete your form and get rid of the ailment the energy of Hephaestus burdened you with?”

  “That would be excellent, First Mage.”

  Tyler laid his hands on the fellow’s shoulders which were materially substantial enough. After his exertion of will and power, Vathys went back to his seat with a grin on his face. Tyler even thought that as the lad walked, he exuded more confidence and the back was straighter. The mage sat back. Though the exercise for Polemos, Apulli, and Vathys was less exhausting, it did tire him out a little. He looked at the girls arrayed on the left side of the table. From what he could see, the Aztecah and Nike’s gift appeared to be fully-formed individuals. Only the forest spirit, seated at the end of the table looked as if it needed help. The one closest to him was the Aztecah girl. He now turned his attention to her.

  “Do you need any completion as to your form?” he asked.

  The girl sweetly smiled and shook her head.

  “I was complete when the Feathered God gave me to you. Except for the name, of course. But I would like to be called Nehua.”

  “Nehua?” remarked the surprised Birki despite himself.

  “Your chosen name also has me confused,” said Tyler. “It means me or myself in Nahuatl, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, master. But you don’t know how good it feels to have a form, a p
ermanent one! Before, I was but one of the energies available to the deity. Not even in a definite shape. We all existed as energy streams with the potential of being manifested. Now, I am me!”

  Tyler smiled. The genuine smile of joy the girl displayed was infectious.

  “Then Nehua shall be your name. And how about you?” he asked the winged girl who was dressed in a lighter version of the armor of Polemos and Machi.

  “I am also complete, master. But I would prefer to be called Seier, meaning victory in the language of Skaney. I can’t take Nike’s name or any of her appellations. But Seier would do nicely. As to my powers, there’s a lot I can contribute in battle and I do retain the martial knowledge of Nike.”

  Tyler nodded and voiced to the ether his acceptance of the name of Nehua and Seier.

  The choice of names by the entities around the table surprised him. For children or young adults, the selection showed a lot of maturity, a fact indicating much promise from members of the group. All they needed was to grow in strength and power. And, of course, some discipline, but that would be thankfully Birki’s job. Dealing with the younger generation was definitely out of his skill set.

  Finally, the mage looked at the last of the group—the little forest spirit. He beckoned for her to come to him. The young girl, with her hair now braided at the back, courtesy of Seier, walked shyly toward the mage.

  Birki was right. Very, very young, he observed.

  When the spirit stood before him, he was dumbfounded. The resemblance to Eira was more than passing. It was as if he was looking at a much younger version of his wife. He looked at Birki, but the being just grinned.

  “Now, do you have a name?” Tyler gently asked, holding the girl’s hands. The being shook her head. Then the mage noticed that the edges of the shape of the entity were vague, as if not completely formed.

  “Do you have a name you want to be called by your friends, your brothers and sisters?” he continued.

  Again, she shook her head.

  “Would you like me to give you a name?” That question got a nod. Tyler looked at Birki.

  “Any suggestions? I admit I am not that proficient in giving names to little girls,” he said.