“What people did you fight in that kingdom?” Tyler asked, intensely curious.
“Different tribes, even armies from unknown cities. Oddly, there was one battle where we fought warriors who looked like those from Skaney. That fight cost us. Excellent opponents. Imagine a tribe of Tyndurs, and you’d get the idea,” grinned Kobu. “I believe they’re called the Heruli.”
“I am afraid I haven’t heard of them,” answered the mage.
“Nor have I,” added Habrok.
“It’s a myth. There’s only one Tyndur,” emphasized the einherjar.
“And that’s a good thing too,” remarked Habrok, to the laughter of everyone in the group. The mage saw Aage’s shoulder shaking with mirth.
Well, at least that broke the ice and showed him we’re not a sphincter-challenged bunch.
The mage considered the ramparts of the defensive fortification to be curiously constructed. The outer face of the eight-foot wall was made of stone blocks, two feet deep. But resting against the stone was packed earth, held in place by thick logs bound together by iron chains. Further stability was provided by large wooden buttresses. Stone stairs led to the top, again paved with the material.
Men were busy adding wooden grilles with sharp protrusions to the front of the wall. Others were likewise engaged in other preparations; iron vats were being placed at regular intervals, spears and arrows being brought up. A second line of defense, a fence of logs with stakes in front, was also hastily being constructed in the open field between the wall and the nearest town buildings. The mage could see a few catapults being set up as their ammunition was piled up beside the heavy weapons.
“What are those iron vats?” Tyler asked Habrok.
“Fire vats, sire. For archers and their flame arrows, and a source of illumination at night,” explained Habrok.
“Well, the jarl seems to know what he’s doing, even though I heard Jarl Geir is young for the position. The arrangement of those lines of sharpened stakes outside the wall was perfect,” observed Tyndur.
“The defenses could use some more improvements though,” added Kobu. “They will not be fighting against men, but an immense tide of dead flesh and bones. When faced with a mass of water approaching your harbor, it would help if one had more breakers to lessen the force of the tide when it reached the shore.”
“I understand what you mean. I hope you get the chance to put what you said into action,” said Tyndur.
“They seem to have more than enough arrows. I’m happy with that. But I still need a mace,” observed Habrok.
“I’ll find you one, Habrok,” offered the einherjar. “One with a long handle. Standard maces won’t be of help here. Those bastards will just have the opportunity to bite your hands. Long-dead rotting mouths with yellowed, diseased teeth. Quite unhealthy. A fact which reminds me – we’d better check our gauntlets. And a neck guard. I hate the idea of one of those things chomping down on my throat.’
The mage heard the discussion among the companions but kept on looking over the town. Tyler found the settlement a mix of the old and new. Ancient but well-kept wooden longhouses and residences provided a quaint contrast to the newer stone buildings. One could see trees along the road and in the neighborhoods. Small parks were a frequent sight and most had wells. Along the road, numerous business establishments ranged from inns to shops selling jewelry. It would have been a pleasant place to visit in untroubled times. Instead, the party found closed houses and establishments, barricades at strategic road choke points, and groups of well-armed and wary fighting men manning roadblocks or marching toward their destinations. The only non-fighting clusters they could see were long lines of refugees walking or riding wagons piled with their meager belongings.
Yet, unlike during the siege of Scarburg, Tyler couldn’t sense or see desperation on the faces of those fleeing the undead horde. Instead, people looked grimly determined. After watching the resolute expressions, the mage didn’t doubt that the men he saw escorting their families would return and take up arms under their jarl. If not in Hedmark, then wherever they were sent. Even the evacuation was a well-organized affair. Tyler could see town guards with tabards of red and black directing the movements of the caravans.
“Their jarl appears to be a good ruler. Everything is being done in an orderly fashion,” said Habrok. The party had turned right from the main street into what Tyler assumed to be the road leading to the jarl’s house.
“He is,” said their guide. “His family had long been guardians of Hedmark. The present jarl honors the memory of his ancestors. Proud but not arrogant, a warrior yet capable of deep thought. His people will willingly fight for him.”
“You think he can handle this crisis?” asked Tyler.
“The fighting, yes, but not the war itself, High Mage. I believe you know this is a conflict where magic is paramount. Steel and iron take secondary importance,” answered Aage.
“And what do you think of the present enemy?” he continued, pleased that the mage finally was willing to talk. As always, Tyler sought information first.
‘I am but a minor battlemage, sire. Higher levels of magic are not my domain. The details of the supernatural threat and the characteristics of the undead we now face are both beyond my knowledge.”
“I suppose some mages here used purification spells in skirmishes?”
“Of course, High Mage. There were some undead before the present threat arose. But unlike before, we found such spells merely delay or slow them down. These are strange undead. They only fall when their heads are crushed.”
What Odin sensed as a strange energy membrane must be preventing ordinary purification spells from taking effect, thought Tyler, reflecting that the purification trait of Eldhofud, the einherjar’s weapon, would find little application in the coming battle.
“We just need to find another way then,” replied Tyler as the memory of the amuck spirit bull arose in his thoughts.
“You didn’t encounter any of them on your way here?” asked Aage.
“We did. A group of undead warriors along a narrow forest trail near the mountains. The left side, if one is facing the Barrens,” said Tyler.
“Forest trail… left side… that would be the missing scouting expedition of Ragnar. Only one such force was sent to that part of the land.”
“How can you be so sure? I was told there were numerous battles fought here before,” asked the surprised First Mage.
“Battles, yes. We also keep a record of those, as accurate as we could make it. Though I fear it’s an impossible task. There were too many. But we have a complete list of expeditions coming from Hedmark,” said Aage. “We kept the records to allow proper burial if and when human remains are discovered. I have a copy, being the assigned mage to Rona’s redoubt.”
“They’re a mashed and churned-up lot now,” butted in the einherjar, referring to Ragnar’s undead contingent.
“Don’t tell me you memorized the list?” continued Tyler, ignoring Tyndur’s comment.
“I didn’t have to, High Mage. Ragnar’s expedition was the very first to set out right after the Hedmark trelleborg was built. Of that expedition, only two escaped out of three baturs’ worth of excellent fighting men. What the survivors reported became a popular skald’s tale in this region, a precautionary and educational one as it mentioned what beasts and creatures they encountered and fought. A popular story, even if almost all of them were killed.”
“How many sorties were made according to your record?” asked the mage, fearing the worst. The more lost expeditions, the more undead they would have to face.
“A lot, I’m afraid. It’s a veritable tome. It does not even include the forces committed to large battles. It was a violent era, you must understand. Warriors and mercenaries came from all over Skaney, Hellas, Kemet, and even from the Imperii. It was a long and bloody struggle, but well worth the price. Sadly, we now have this… problem,” said Aage as they walked down the avenue toward the jarl’s dwelling. Tyler had a
lready drawn abreast of the mage.
“Just how many do we have now to defend this place?”
“Ah, such a question should be addressed to Jarl Geir. I am but a lowly battlemage. Matters of strategy and defense are not within my purview,” replied Aage with a grin. “A mule in the grand scheme of things.”
Ouch. He had heard Tyndur’s comment, Tyler realized. At least he’s got an even temperament.
***
Jarl Geir was indeed young. At least for the important position of ruler of a vital and dangerous border region. But the long, thin straight scar marking his cheek down to his neck spoke of being a veteran of battles. The bronzed tone of his skin told of one accustomed to the wilds. And he was looking at the mage, an extremely thoughtful expression in his eyes.
Probably wondering if it was a good idea to turn over the defense to me, observed Tyler. We’re almost the same age. Mages here are usually old men.
Introductions had been made with Aage off to one side doing the honors. The jarl was seated in a wooden throne with a high back, decorated with exquisite carvings, yet it bore no precious metal of any kind. The jarl’s large dwelling was made of stone and looked from the outside to be a two-level building with long structural extensions to the sides. But inside, it had only one floor, but with a high ceiling.
Tyler half-expected a Norse longhouse or a variation of the theme, but what he saw was a strong stone structure with the main hall in the middle and large buildings at each side attached to it. The roof was made of wooden tiles covered with a substance which the mage assumed to be fireproof coating. A low stone fence was in front of the keep, though seen from the front, Tyler couldn’t determine the size of the entire building. Some windows could be seen and they were narrow ones, and if he was not mistaken, each was more like four slits arranged in the form of an ordinary window.
The throne room itself had doors on each side. Decorations were plain – a large banner bearing the raven symbol and Odin’s colors were on the wall at the back of the jarl. Two similar though smaller flags were hung from the walls on either side of Tyler. Weapons locked with small chains comprised the rest of the items adorning the space.
Practical , thought Tyler, remembering the murder holes he saw on the way to the throne room. He did notice that the windows had thick iron bars on them.
The jarl suddenly stood up.
“Now that’s done!” the jarl exclaimed, referring to the introductions. “Let’s go talk about defending my realm!”
An old man who had stood beside the jarl all the while, quickly stepped closer and whispered to the ruler’s ear.
“Oh, right. You do need to rest and freshen up. Aage will take care of the arrangements. Feed them well, mage! It’s not every day we have a High Mage to help us.”
“As you command, jarl,” Aage bowed.
“I have to be off. I’ll deal with reports and checking the preparations for now,” said the jarl. “We’ll meet in the war room in three hours. Aage will bring you there.”
Then he looked over the party.
“Strange armor and weapons! A delight to the eyes! I daresay you’ve had your share of beasties!” the ruler finally laughed. “Rest. If you need more time to recover, tell Aage. I’ll understand.”
With a wave of his hand, the jarl then left the room.
Aage led the way as the group went to their quarters. Tyler was given a separate room, but Kobu insisted on staying with him. The mage didn’t argue. He knew it was useless.
“You’re right, Aage,” Tyler told the man as he was about to leave them. “Proud, but not arrogant.”
“He shares in the perils faced by his warriors and looks after the welfare of his people. What more could the people of Hedmark ask for?” Aage replied.
“But he does appear to be young to be a jarl,” commented Tyler.
“The bane of his family. Warriors to the bone. He’s the youngest of three siblings. The eldest died in an ill-fated attempt to extend the reach of their territory. The second fell trying to aid a settlement under siege by creatures from the Barrens. That still happens these days.”
“No heir?”
“That’s the problem. He was out on raids and explorations too often to settle down. More drotten than frea. We had hoped he’d grow into the role but this crisis could have severe consequences for Hedmark if things go wrong. The warriors kept it from him, but his hird already has an additional group committed to reinforcing the huskarlar. All volunteers and willing to die to ensure his line do not die out.”
“Thanks, Aage. I appreciate the information,” said Tyler.
Aage smiled.
“He’ll probably ask me about your armor and weapons, though only the material of the armor is familiar to me. Do you have any objections on giving him such knowledge?” asked the battlemage.
“None, Aage. Though you could also add that these were gifts from very powerful beings. They wouldn’t be happy seeing them on anyone else.”
“Indeed, they won’t be. Magnificent armor made out of wyrm and draken scales is exactly not that common. First time I’ve seen such legendary items. We were only shown a single scale of each kind back in the temple at Hirdburg.”
Now that removes the possibility of any unpleasant business if any stupid arse thinks about appropriating our weapons and armor. I guess I am safe from such envious actions, but my companions are not, Tyler considered after Aage left. Then he heard Kobu laugh. The exile was listening to the exchange.
“A point well emphasized, sire. Warriors are quite fond of enchanted items, and some could be quite unscrupulous about how they get them. But petty nobility is worse. Ten acres of land and a few retainers make some think they can get away with anything.”
Where’s a good frog spell when you need one? thought the mage.
***
Some minutes later, refreshed and having eaten, Tyler was on the bed trying to grab some sleep. The comfortable embrace of a proper bed with clean sheets insisted on it. He was wearing new clothes, and the armor hung on a stand beside the bed. But the staff was lying down on the bedcovers. He had Kobu as a guard but was hesitant to confide in the exile his ability to disappear into the dimensional space he had created – a spell courtesy of Dionysus.
All of a sudden, the staff again began to get warm. Tyler looked at the weapon, wondering what was happening to it.
“My lord First Mage.”
It was Birki’s voice, echoing in his mind.
Chapter Eighteen
A Wretched Tour
Tyr spake:
39. “My hand do I lack, | but Hrothvitnir thou,
And the loss brings longing to both;
Ill fares the wolf | who shall ever await
In fetters the fall of the gods.”
Loki spake:
40. “Be silent, Tyr! | for a son with me
Thy wife once chanced to win;
Not a penny, methinks, | wast thou paid for the wrong,
Nor wast righted an inch, poor wretch.”
“Birki? How the hell are you talking to me?” exclaimed Tyler.
“Your extended discourse with the chieftain of the Norse pantheon had something to do with it, I guess. Close proximity enabled more stray energies to be absorbed by the staff. Odin’s energy is more potent than those of the others. You should find more opportunities to talk to the heads of the pantheons, sire,” snickered Birki.
“I doubt if I’ll find the chance, Birki. That would make me feel like a vampire, if not a thief.”
Tyler’s reply was prompt and marked by evident distaste. The idea itself made him also feel like a bottom-feeder.
“Ridiculous assumption, sire. We’re just using power left in the air. Of course, being ordinary magical energy manifested through a powerful medium, such scraps are particularly potent. They’d only decay and eventually revert to ordinary form. Waste not, that’s my battle cry.”
“I guess it’s all right then. But this new-found ability of yours is quite the surpr
ise,” answered Tyler. He still didn’t feel better about the idea but accepted it was necessary. Not that he could do anything about it anyway.
“It does have its limits. One has to be the guardian of the entrance to the world within the staff to communicate – if you’re holding the staff or it’s very close to you. A few inches more and I wouldn’t be able to communicate,” clarified Birki.
“How are the… children? Tyler wanted to say wards but somehow found himself unable to use the word.
“Odin’s energy made a significant change in their growth. They’re a wee bit older, but still a handful. But the improvement was enough for me to start them on another level of training. Everybody wants a chance to show off their abilities to their father, especially after the Aztecah girl started bragging about what she had done.”
Tyler laughed. “Kids. They’ll each get their chance. You can tell them that. But only when you believe they’re ready. That would help you get them interested, if not focused, on their training and growth.”
Tyler heard a chuckle from Birki.
“Cunningly put, sire. That I will certainly do.”
The mage noted the use of the word ‘father.’ Tyler found he liked it, though he also thought the idea of explaining to Eira the reality of suddenly having several children was intimidating. He knew his wife would take to the children like a fish to water, but the first step – breaking the news – would have to be handled with subtlety.
“Anything else, Birki?” The mage wanted to start a discussion with the being, but was starting to get sleepy.
“I believe that would be all, except for the two strange presences I sense in your mind. If they’re hostile, I’m afraid I can’t help – talking to you is all I can do now.”
Busted. Birki is attuned to my energies so I guess that must be why he sensed Hal and X, Tyler immediately hypothesized.
“They’re friends. No, they’re not controlling me if that’s what you’re thinking. They have their… commands and limitations,” reassured Tyler. He was about to say protocols but doubted if the modern term was familiar in Adar.
The Accidental Archmage - Book Five Page 19
