The Accidental Archmage - Book Five

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “With your permission, Jarl Geir, another private conversation? I do apologize for disturbing you this often,” voiced the mage.

  “Nonsense, High Mage. As if I have anything better to do. Right now, I am hoping to be a jilted bride at her wedding. I really don’t like the arriving groom.”

  As soon as they were alone, the mage warned the jarl he would be asking personal questions.

  “How was your relationship with your eldest brother?” Tyler asked.

  “Bjarte? The eldest and heir to the throne. Arrogant as they come. He always wanted to be the best in everything – women, drinking, sword skills. Name it, and you’d find him there. I tended to avoid him. There’s only so much best you could swallow. He wasn’t as bad as other elder brothers who wanted to rub your nose in their superiority, but he would be looking over our shoulders practically the whole time. You bring home a boar, he’ll go out and hunt a bigger one.”

  “Fighting between the two of you? Any resentments?”

  “Oh, we fought. Not to the death though. He always wanted to emphasize how good he was, and that nobody else was fit to be the jarl. Any resentment would revolve around that fact. It’s hard not to begrudge him when all you want is to be left alone with your own interests,” the jarl answered, clearly thinking about the past.

  “I want to goad him into attacking with the first wave of his army. That way, I could try for the nullification of the spell. The earlier we face him, the sooner we could determine our course of action – a quick battle with fewer casualties or a timely decision to withdraw. Though the latter option is fraught with risks,” explained Tyler.

  “I could try, but I am not that good with insults. I believe I missed that part of a warrior’s education,” laughed the jarl.

  Tyler thought quickly. He had to insult the undead leader as much as he could. The rune plate definitely showed the revenant knew how to talk. It was a premise that supported the assumption of the guides that the concentration of power was centered on the entity once known as Bjarte.

  “Fine. We’ll get you to talk with him, and then you brag about being the jarl, and he’s not. Then pass the rune to either Tyndur or Otr as your champions. If anybody can goad that being into prematurely attacking, it would be either of those two,” suggested the mage.

  “Let’s use Tyndur and let the einherjar pretend to be a mortal. I don’t think insults coming from a dwarf would work well,” noted the jarl and then he laughed. “If I know my brother, he’ll be angrier than a bear with a toothache.”

  ***

  Having briefed the einherjar and the men of the hird, Tyler, the jarl, and Tyndur stood inside a circle protected by the personal retainers of the jarl. Habrok maintained watch on the parapet, while Kobu stood close by, observing what was going to happen. The exile still had a role to play as the military commander of the defense and needed to be readily available. Skarde had taken charge of directly overseeing the men on the ramparts.

  Tyler activated the rune and gave it to the jarl. A low, sepulchral voice answered.

  “Took you long enough to report, you blasted mortal! Is the mage done with?” asked a voice. It wasn’t a loud one, but vocal enough to be heard by the trio.

  “I’m afraid he failed, Bjarte,” answered the jarl.

  “Who is this?” demanded the speaker. “Answer, or I’ll rip you apart from limb to useless limb with my bare hands!”

  “The Jarl of Hedmark, you useless corpse. Who else?”

  “I am the rightful jarl, interloper! Wait a while, until I get there to feed your body to my men!”

  “But Bjarte, don’t you recognize your own brother’s voice? I am now the jarl. You died, stupid moron.”

  “Geir? You? You? A weakling is now the jarl? You won’t be jarl for much longer, brother of mine. I am coming!”

  Tyler then signaled to the jarl.

  “Tsk, tsk. I believe my champion has something to say about that,” said the jarl as he gave the rune piece to Tyndur, with a raised eyebrow, a reminder to the einherjar not to include insults involving parents or the realm.

  “I am Wilan, the jarl’s champion, you maggot-ridden, slime-eating, rotten piece of shit. Why do you want the crown of Hedmark? You’re dead! The crown would only fit your desiccated waist!

  Wilan? The choice of name shocked the mage.

  No response came from the rune.

  “Speechless? You bony excuse for a mule! The great Bjarte? Probably got stabbed in the balls by a stunted jotunn!”

  “YOU!” was all that came out of the magical plate.

  “Here’s a skald’s turn for the great Bjarte –

  To the Barrens, he went

  Banners flying, the jotnar to be conquered;,

  To a man, his hird believed

  What the great liar had woven

  Lies and tall tales aplenty;

  A great eldhúsfífl of a leader,

  The great Bjarte marched,

  Though afraid to fart or sneeze

  At night, for fear of a jotunn’s delight;

  There, in a land broken and desolate,

  Meet the renowned fífl of Hedmark,

  Though a stunted jotunn got to him first,

  Twisting its tiny knife through balls of butter.”

  Even if those were impromptu lines, they’re terrible, grimaced the mage.

  “You’ll pay for this, Wilan! By all I hold sacred, I will have your balls for this!”

  “And I suppose you’re going to order someone to do it too, hraumi. I am not surprised. Though the skalds are already singing your praises, sliced balls. I do believe that’s the name of the tale,” replied Tyndur calmly.

  “I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands myself, you and all the skalds of Skaney! I’ll feed you your own balls, and you’ll watch while I do it!” shouted the ghoul. The energy running through the rune stopped.

  “He cut off the energy link,” said the mage.

  “And he has this bizarre obsession about tearing people apart with his bare hands. It was all he could talk about,” observed Tyndur. “Clearly, his education was lacking. Either that or your brother was a vámr when he was alive.”

  And Tyndur just sentenced to death all the skalds and bards of Skaney.

  “Wasn’t that too much?” asked the jarl. “He sounded really mad.”

  “Just enough, I think,” replied Tyler. “If I don’t see his banner soon, I’ll get Tyndur to throw in more greetings. Or even get Otr into the act.”

  “But first, we have to weather the surges heralding the coming of the storm,” warned the mage.

  He walked out of the circle and looked into the distance.

  “We have some incoming flyers. I doubt if the ballistae could be of help in this darkness. I’ll take care of them. Those on the ground are nearly within catapult distance. I believe they’re going to reverse their approach – ground forces first, with support from the flyers. Kobu, please ask one of the mages to affix an illumination spell on one of the catapults’ ammunition. I don’t want to be traced back to this location yet,” he swiftly instructed. “Light spells have the distressing side-effect of showing where they came from.”

  He looked at the deadly vista before him. No sign of the leader, but the mage figured it would take time before he came into view. The flyers were keeping beyond his visual range, and it was starting to irk Tyler. He wanted to eliminate that problem once and for all so he could focus on the coming ground assault.

  “Hal? Range of our blasts?”

  “Quite far, sire.”

  “I am going to try an Adar adaptation of a weapon in the First World. Let’s eliminate the flyers. I’ll send a scrying spell and use that as your guidance system. Get rid of all of them. I believe all those dots hovering about in the distance are all that’s left of them.”

  “I count eighty-six, sire, said X. “That would take around four to five volleys provided they don’t take evasive action.”

  “Still a dangerous number. Let’s hope the da
rkness helps. Focus first on grouped targets. That way, we can avoid alarming the others.”

  The mage let go of another conjuration toward the flock of undead revenants, and then looked closely at the efforts of his guides. The sudden eruption of the blasts from the mage startled everybody on the parapet, and Tyler was forced to raise his hand to reassure everybody. The green marks were again quickly disappearing. He saw some futile attempts to evade what was coming, though apparently, they didn’t know how to pull it off. The bursts were fired at an incredible speed, and only registered when they had blown apart one of the airborne monsters. The few remaining creatures tried to retreat, but to no avail. Finally, the sky was clear.

  “How many volleys?” the mage asked. Well, that was… easy.

  “Five for me,” replied Hal, “and six for X.”

  “Effect on our energy reserves?”

  “Negligible.” That was X.

  “Good. Prepare some reserves. Let’s clear a path for the leader to come through. The leading elements of his army could be blocking the way,” grimly replied the mage. His mind was already on battle mode, and he wanted the preliminary part of the night’s festivities over and done with as quickly as possible.

  Several clouds formed above the coming horde, the flashes of lightning within them visible from where Tyler stood. He quickly pumped more energy into them and then released the spell. The deadly coruscations immediately showered the mass trying to move forward. With several lightning clouds over the area, it was a massive blender of a killing spell. The mage could see signs of shields being cast above the leading elements.

  Mages in the vanguard. Well, try stopping a lightning bolt with a mere energy shield. Unless they’re deities with enough power, those mages are toast. Magical lightning seems to be attracted to energy sources.

  The mage left the clouds to do their work, knowing the devastation would last some time. He pulled out the rune and motioned Tyndur forward. Idly, he noticed the two dwarven chieftains had joined them.

  “Time for more insults, Tyndur.”

  The einherjar smiled as he took the activated rune.

  “Hail, balls for brains!” shouted Tyndur gleefully. “Just as I thought! Sending your men to do your dirty work! Well, I’ve made it easier for you to come forward! Let’s see if that hand of yours could do something else than fondle your five-fingered sweetheart! What a useless hunk of brittle bones and moldy flesh! Or are you already hiding? I knew it!”

  Tyler could see the puzzled faces of the two dwarves who fortunately were briefed by the jarl. Otr looked envious.

  “DAMN YOU!” came the loud response. The low and echoing voice was forceful enough to be heard around the parapet. For some reason, people had suppressed grins on their faces.

  “At a loss for words, I see. That’s the problem with having buttery balls for brains,” commented Tyndur.

  Tyler whispered in the einherjar’s ear to continue. He went back to the edge of the tower, examined his handiwork, and created another deadly gauntlet. But he knew the spell couldn’t stop the enemy; vast numbers were already near Birki’s earthworks.

  Tyndur followed him.

  “Sorry, sire. He cut it off again.”

  “Hey, einherjar,” called out Otr. “Good, but not good enough. You should have let a master at it.”

  Tyndur’s laughter noisily echoed as he merrily hooted his guts out.

  “By Thor’s beardless chin, that was one prank worthy of a saga!” exclaimed the einherjar.

  “Beardless chin?” asked the mystified mage. The last time he’d seen Thor, the deity had sported a full red beard.

  “Exactly. This trick would be the equal of shaving that deity’s beard!”

  “My beard?” A bass voice sounded at the other end of the platform.

  ***

  It was Thor, his beard intact. There was no mistaking the magical and aggressive aura. He was clad in full battle armor with its faceplate opened. Surprisingly, he was carrying a maul, same as Tyndur, though the weapon appeared magical, the red glow from its silvery head giving away its nature.

  Right. Odin did say he’d send Thor as part of the compromise I reached with Feyr. Shit. I hope Tyndur doesn’t consider the coming battle as a pissing contest with the deity.

  Thor eyed Tyndur with evident distaste.

  “I remember you. Tyndur. You led me on that merry chase in the Dokkaflr Mountains. Even in Valhalla, your sense of humor was… unbecoming,” said the deity, twirling his maul in one gauntleted hand like a toy.

  “I remember you too, Thunderer. How could I not? Your voice was as loud as your storms,” replied the einherjar in an uncharacteristically calm response for him.

  Shit. Another pissing contest. A dangerous one.

  “We will have no fighting here,” said Tyler emphatically. “We will have more than enough to fill those appetites soon. You are here to save Hedmark, not to resolve old grudges.”

  Tyndur bowed in his direction while Thor swiftly walked toward the mage.

  “Truly said, Havard,” said the deity, who spared a quick glance at the darkness. He stopped for a while, continuing to look in the distance.

  “Ah, this is indeed going to be a battle. I left Ullr and my band of warriors also facing undead, a nest of skeletal wyrms. But this is promising,” Thor mused. “This must be what Vígríðr would look like in the final battle.”

  He turned his attention back to Tyler. “What would you have of me?”

  The mage quickly explained what he wanted – for the deity to wreak havoc at the rear of the enemy, preventing the greater mass of undead from reaching the fort.

  “You don’t want me to handle those already in range?” asked the puzzled Norse god. Tyler could hear the mangonels starting to release their deadly cargo. Light flooded the flat terrain in front of the fortress. The light spell of the mages, though it appears more than one has been cast, thought Tyler.

  “The field in front is full of traps. Fighting there would inadvertently trigger them, and the heavy weapons won’t be able to fire. If you see their leader, probably the group with the most banners, don’t engage.”

  “Why not?” It was apparent the deity was not accustomed to combat with restrictions.

  “I need that particular revenant nearby. I have an idea which might enable me to stop the undead plague.”

  “Uff da! I pray Father Odin grants you his help! This blight is draining Asgard. Even now, I hear our world is under attack, and still, the Allfather insists we defend the mortal realm first!”

  He would. Without mortals, you’ll all just fade away. With or without Ragnarok.

  Then Tyler noticed something strange.

  “Thor, your gauntlets are glowing. A bit faint, but visible at this distance.”

  “Ah. Don’t mind Járngreipr. They’re just curious why I am holding an unfamiliar weapon.”

  “They?” Now it was the mage’s turn to be puzzled.

  “Magic gloves. They enable me to handle Mjolnir. And if I ever find out who stole it…”

  That part I didn’t know. Does it mean if I wear them, I could handle the hammer? Cool!

  “So, you want me to act as a reef to slow down the waves,” observed Thor thoughtfully.

  “Exactly. But remember not to kill the leader. The energy animating the undead conjuration appears to have some connection with him,” replied Tyler.

  “I do have to run forward. The demand for an exact location in unfamiliar territory doesn’t work well with how we travel through the ether,” replied the war deity, thoughtfully staring in the distance.

  “How are you going to avoid the traps and the stones from the catapults?” asked Tyler. The sound of the release of boulders from the heavy siege weapons was already a steady drumbeat.

  “Float and run like Fenrisúlfr. Smashing what I could along the way,” grinned the deity. “I can’t stay long, but what’s out there is sufficient entertainment.”

  “Happy hunting,” was all Tyler could say.


  “Oh, I will,” laughed Thor as he walked down. Everybody swiftly stepped out of the way.

  The men could now move. I guess the shock and awe stage is nearly over.

  The mage saw the jarl looking at him, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. Tyler watched the area outside the fortress. A sudden streak of light sped off toward the bulk of the enemy. He could see undead, groups of them at times, being smashed aside, thrown high into the air, or crushed under the running deity’s metal sabatons. Then he heard roars of approval from the battlements. The mage looked back and saw Thor was already in the lit area, and the result of what he was doing was open for all to see. The actual strikes were too fast for mortal eyes. Unfortunately, he also saw Thor crashing into the various mounds, creating openings in the earthworks.

  Win some, lose some. I do hope that thick head remembers not to ground Bjarte to pieces.

  After the deity passed, the undead quickly reformed, got beyond catapult range and the lit area, and waited for more of their kind to join the advance ranks. Based on what Tyler saw, they didn’t have to wait long. Already, the archers among them were arrayed in front of the warriors.

  “Kobu, they’re reforming beyond the range of the catapults and preparing to attack,” he advised the exile even as he created a shield for the parapet. Creating and maintaining a buffer for the entire frontal part of the fort would be an impossible strain on his magical reserves; magical constructs decayed over a period. Kobu didn’t reply and instead ordered the men to expect the assault.

  Their first indication the attack had commenced was the rain of arrows on the battlements. The central parapet was safe as it was protected by Tyler’s barrier, a double one. Innumerable shafts broke against it, but he could hear the loud clatter as the arrows landed on the shields of the men not covered by the magical protection. The mage saw the archers had kept to the sides of the magically lit area.

  Fuck. They move fast. In the short time I talked to Kobu, they were able to change locations. He immediately cast light spells to the left and right sides. Meeting his gaze, under the illumination given out by his magic, were two huge groups of archers, all busy unleashing arrows on the battlements.