The Accidental Archmage_Book Three_Blood Wars

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “We know, First Mage. But the knowledge to break the final chain eludes us. So we are still bound but in a much lesser form. We realize that such a bond makes it possible for you to call on us now that Ares is gone from his pedestal. But the weakness of the remaining fetter enables us to deny your request or demand if we find it unacceptable. Oh, we will suffer a bit for rejecting you but not like before when we couldn’t say no.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have no plans of ruling this world or any world for that matter. But does it mean that buffoon of a god could have ruled Adar if he knew about your abilities and power?”

  “Yes, First Mage. It would have taken some time, but the result would be an Ares ruling Adar. Or Zeus, if he knew who we really are and is inclined to wage war on the rest of the pantheons. Though such an event would have invited another intervention.”

  “And you’re telling me this?” asked the mystified Tyler.

  “That shows the degree of confidence we have in you. You also have the blessing of the Mother. So, no, we don’t have any reservations.”

  Oh, freak me. Mumbo-jumbo shit again. And to think they would know by now I don’t believe in these deities.

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “Just a promise to free us when you can do it.”

  “You have it,” said Tyler. Now that he knew about the enslavement of the drakon race, uncomfortable would be an understatement in describing what he felt about the ring. But the addition to the list of his burdens was making him feel the weight of all of them.

  “I could give the ring to you, but it won’t come off.”

  “It won’t come off until the power to free us resides in you,” replied Anemothýella.

  “I guess I’m stuck with it for now. But is your race really called Ismenian?” asked the mage, realizing the incongruity of a Greek name for a race which predated humans.

  “In our language, our name for ourselves is different, of course. It is impossible for human voices to replicate our speech. But it does not matter. Ismenian they called us, so Ismenian we remain.”

  “You know, I am on my way south. To stand against the Aztecah. I could use some advice or help.”

  “Fighting we have eschewed for millennia. Except for some branches of our race who have devolved into primitive forms. They have forgotten who they once were. Their origins, their greatness, and more importantly, the blessings and knowledge bequeathed by our Mother,” sighed the white drakon. “We take care of Adar. Only in its defense do we fight. We still struggle against dark and evil forms which have not seen the light of day in this world.”

  THERE ARE MORE DARK AND EVIL FORMS? MORE POWERFUL ONES?

  “But they are primitive and rudimentary magical forms,” added the drakon. “Though mortals and deities alike should pray they continue not to see the light of day. Some are born of true evil but lack cunning and intellect. But that is the way of nature. Light cannot exist without darkness. So we continue to stand guard for our Mother.”

  Tyler was silent. Trying to absorb what the being told him. He still couldn’t get around the idea of overpowered primitive and savage beings which only have baser instincts. Though if they do escape and emerge, Adar would be done for. And it would be an event which does not violate any of the rules laid down by the Elders.

  Anemothýella noticed his silence. He smiled at Tyler, mistaking the quiet mien of the mage for disappointment. He walked closer to him.

  “Ah, First Mage, your path is difficult. Extremely so. We wish we could help, but we have been told to let you find your way. To directly assist you would interfere with fate. But you asked for advice and I can give you one piece,” said the drakon. “You will stand in southern lands, fight what needs to be fought, but the resolution to your present problem lies far to the west.”

  Huh? Another riddle. First Rumpr, then Hrun, then Tyndur, and now this guy.

  “I am afraid I don’t understand,” answered Tyler.

  “You will. In time,” said the ancient drakon. “And now for some help. Though I admit I am selfish in giving you this aid. It does lessen the chances of you calling on us and being denied.”

  The mage came closer and touched Tyler’s forehead. The mage felt a warm sensation where the tips of the hand tapped against his skin. Anemothýella removed his hand and smiled at him.

  “There. The power to be a greater drakon. Not an illusion. But a real one, with all your intellect and powers undiminished. But be warned. The strength and invincibility that comes with it will depend on your power and abilities.”

  Tyler was stupefied. And then a stray thought passed through his mind.

  With my power? Just an apprentice Elder Mage? I’ll probably turn to the size of a mere monitor lizard. Probably end up as dinner. I heard they taste like chicken.

  “My gratitude, ancient one,” thanked Tyler. But his mind was full of questions. Especially about the events back on the hillside near Akrotiri. “If you don’t mind, a query?”

  “Yes?”

  “About my battle with Palirroia, he didn’t show his powers. I think he could have squashed us like bugs. Why is that?”

  “It’s all about secrets, First Mage. We would rather die than let the uninvited know who and what we are.”

  “Oh.”

  Dammit! I could have come up with a better question. The answer to that one I could have figured out on my own.

  “But I guess it’s time to go. War awaits,” said the drakon.

  “It does, ancient one, and again my thanks.”

  “Goodbye, First Mage. And may you fare well in your struggles,” said Anemothýella.

  Tyler didn’t even need to close his eyes as the surrounding slowly faded and was replaced by the vegetation of the hill Viracocha mentioned. Surprisingly, he appeared simultaneously with his companions.

  “The bulk of the fighting is over there,” said the Incan deity as he started walking to the top of the hill. Tyler could already hear screams, outcries, and the loud din involving thousands of men engaged in the business of war.

  “Wait,” said the mage. Standing on top of a hilltop would be prime advertisement for swift and lethal attention. “We will be seen once we get to the top.”

  “I am sorry, Tyler. I sometimes forget that I am with mortals, not deities,” mentally came the Incan’s apology.

  “It’s alright. I think I have the spell for it,” he responded.

  “Come closer,” he said to the two companions. “Around four feet away from me. Time for a cloaking spell.”

  Tyler focused and cast it. He saw the surroundings as well as the two warriors blur for a second and then come back into focus.

  “I think it worked.” This was the first time Tyler had used the spell and he had no way of knowing how effective it was.

  “It did,” said Viracocha, to Tyler’s enormous relief.

  “Now, let’s take a look.”

  He trusted Viracocha would hide his own presence. As they reached the top of the hill, they saw the unfolding battle. But it was a strange one.

  The front lines of the Incan warriors, armed with long spears and equipped with wooden shields faced with iron, were on one side, with a small settlement at their back. Tyler estimated their strength to be less than two thousand men. Most had no helms, only elaborate headdresses. Some wore helmets though he couldn’t tell the material. But he could see cultural adaptation in the weapons the second row wielded – iron axes, longswords, and war hammers in addition to unfamiliar ones. Scattered through the formations were men wearing regalia and in full armor of some sort. Officers, he thought.

  Facing them was a colorful mass of men deployed in the form of an arc, with the horns directed at the flanks of the Incans. The front row had small shields, wore jaguar pelts and were armed with what appeared to be clubs. The second row also had small shields but wore what looked like large turtle shells as body armor. They were armed with either spear and a kind of axe which had two edges, a sharp and a blunt one.
The third line was a few feet away from the second and was mostly armed with clubs and carried ropes.

  At the back of the arc was a large formation of men, arrayed like the arc but apparently not intending to participate in the battle. On the flanks of the army were more men armed with throwing spears. But like those in the second group, they appeared to be in guard mode only. The different colors of the armor and decorations of the Aztecah warriors made it look as if it were a festival instead of a deadly clash between predator and prey.

  As they watched, the Aztecah warriors advanced on the run. Incan arrows and spears flew through the air. They bounced off magical barriers. As the attackers neared, bursts of flame started exploding among their ranks but except for one or two, the magical shields brushed off the fireballs. Tyler was surprised the Aztecah warriors didn’t retaliate.

  When the attackers closed within ten feet of the Incan defenders, their first rank stopped and held up their shields. The second row quickly stepped up and started throwing small jars against the Incan defense. Each jar smashed against a long energy shield in front of the Incan lines. The mage could see that the numerous jars and their contents had destroyed the Incan barrier. When that happened, the first row immediately surged forward and violently smashed into the Incans. The crashing sound reverberated throughout the battlefield. At the loud noise, the stationary Aztecah warriors at the back shouted a deafening battle cry which added to the clangor. Tyler could feel the ground tremble at the impact of clashing men.

  While the defense staggered under the furious assault, the Aztecah second row was throwing coils of rope at the Incans. As each cord wrapped itself around an Incan’s limbs, it was quickly tugged and pulled to the back. Incans were being dragged through the Aztecah fighters at the front. As soon as they cleared the ones wearing jaguar pelts, men in the second row swiftly closed in on the prone warriors and clubbed them unconscious. After that, they were hogtied and carried to the rear. Tyler could see that even Aztecah warriors in the front were bludgeoning their opponents in a way which seemed to avoid killing.

  Tyler turned to the Incan deity.

  “I don’t understand what is happening.”

  “The Aztecah are more interested in capturing prisoners than killing our warriors. Capturing prisoners for blood ceremonies is more prestigious for them. Look at them! They have the men, the power, and the weapons to wipe out the defenders swiftly, but they don’t. This way, they get to have living fuel for their temple sacrificial rites.”

  The mage could see the Incan was right. After a while, the attackers withdrew, leaving a ragged and reduced Incan defense line. Some Aztecah warriors perished. Their bodies could be seen on the field. But the rows of bound prisoners at the rear of the Aztecah force showed their priority. He could observe more unconscious prisoners being carried to join the ranks of future ceremonial fuel.

  Looking at what was happening, Tyler realized most of his area of effect spells couldn’t be used. It will kill the prisoners too.

  “First Mage,” called Viracocha. Tyler turned his gaze from disturbing sight below him.

  “I took the liberty of preparing minor rings of language for all of you,” said the Incan. “I can’t have you lot running around without knowing if people are praising, insulting, selling, or humiliating you. Or merely asking for the time of the day. But these artifacts are limited in power. They will only work in Incan, Aztecah, and nearby lands. They’ll be useless back in Hellas or Skaney. Here you go.”

  As the Incan distributed the rings, he raised an eyebrow at the old man.

  “Another ring?” he asked mentally.

  “Actually, I wanted to see the fingers of your right hand full of rings. When that happens, look me up and I’ll work with Hephaestus to craft a metal glove from all of them,” laughed the deity.

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” replied Tyler.

  “But remember, Tyler, once you raise your power against a major god, you will be unprotected by the rules. And that army below us. Think carefully about how you are going to work against them. Once your spells are cast, you will be seen. Be on guard for I sense three powerful centers among them. No, not major gods. Could be champions, demigods, or minor deities. All the magic around us is playing havoc with my perception. But I feel something different about those three. Their auras appear distorted. Tainted. As if they have been corrupted, body and soul.”

  “That blows.”

  “What blows? Never mind. What are you going to do now?”

  “I think I know. But I don’t like it. The companions to your temple. It seems to be the prime attraction in these parts for the Aztecah. But if they manage to eliminate the warriors there, what happens next?”

  “Leave that to me. Let them remove the mortal warriors and mages there. A tinge of my power remains in the temple and no magical deity can enter it as of now.”

  Tyler whispered to Tyndur and Astrid to come closer. When they did, he gave his instructions.

  “The old man will guide you to the temple down there,” he pointed to the side of the hill. “It’s now occupied by Aztecah warriors and mages. I need you to clean them out. But the old man can’t help you with the fighting. A bit under the weather, I suppose. Just follow his instructions. Meanwhile, I’ll try to help the Incans. It will also help divert attention from the temple. We’ll meet at the foot of the hill when you’re done. Can you two handle it?”

  “Mortal warriors and mages? It would depend on how big the temple is,” answered Tyndur.

  Astrid faced Viracocha and asked if he had an estimate of the enemy occupying the temple.

  “Oh, not many. Around a hundred or so,” said the deity.

  A hundred or so? Not much? thought Tyler. Then he remembered that before him was an einherjar, a seasoned warrior during his sojourn as a mortal man and meant to fight when the time comes for the Nordic world to end. Not to mention that his skills must have been enhanced by whatever shred of Elder knowledge he was able to get during his capture. He glanced at Tyndur. The warrior looked excited. A lot. Astrid, on the other hand, was an expert with throwing axes and the javelin. The supernatural quickness of the Valkyrie would be perfect in keeping her from harm. Her expertise with the twin xiphoi was guaranteed to wreak havoc. Tyler still remembered the ridiculous ease with which the warrior disposed of the mythological spartoi in the Dorian Hills.

  “You warriors are comfortable with that number?” he asked the two who nodded. Tyndur still had a silly grin on his face.

  “No heroics. Just do the task required. Though I suggest Tyndur takes care of the warriors while Astrid concentrates on the mages. Her swiftness and projectiles will serve her well in dealing with them. And tell the old man to get word to me when you’re on your way back.”

  The two nodded again, rose, and went to the Incan. Tyler also stood up and returned to his vantage point.

  Chapter X

  Baiting the Jaguar

  The mage again looked at the battlefield. The first group was withdrawing to the rear and the second arc was marching to the front. The Incan battle line had reformed though it was reduced in numbers.

  Their gods must be equal opportunity employers. Prestige and opportunities for all.

  Tyler could now see a mass of people huddled at the back of the line, just in front of the settlement, guarded by a few warriors. Women and children. He figured even old men were fighting on the front lines. He wondered why they’re not evacuating. Unless they knew the retreat was barred by Aztecah skirmishers. If the Incan warriors fall, then the Aztecah gain more slaves and fodder for their rites. He did remember something about warriors being the preferred sacrifices to their abominable gods.

  For the mage, it was disturbingly surreal. Any observer would know what the outcome would be. Yet the Incans fought on. Tyler distressingly thought that the women and children must be the warriors’ families. The presence of the settlement guaranteed it. But the tragedy on display reminded him of a cat playing with its food. The apparent sh
eer eagerness of the attackers to get hold of live Incans was shocking and frightening. Like a horde of hungry rats seeing a piece of bread.

  How do I go about this? The Aztecah forces are shielded. Heavily warded, I guess. And that warning from Viracocha. Added to that the fact that I have no idea what are the abilities of these people.

  He looked at the thousands crowded at the settlement.

  And if I fail, those people fall into Aztecah hands. I believe the Incans know what that means. Desperate bravery must be the only thing keeping the Aztecah at bay. Or the desire for human sacrifices. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up on a sacrificial altar, hands tied, and a smelly old man in a funny dress holding an obsidian dagger above my heart. Shit. But do I have any choice? It’s worse than Scarburg. I won’t run from this fight… unless I really, really, have to.

  Tyler could now see the new group starting to march closer to the Incans. Probably will use the same tactic, he thought. But there’s an open period for an attack. The time when they stop and throw those pots, jars, or whatnot to destroy the Incan shield.

  The Aztecah arc now stopped. As usual, the rain of Incan arrows, spears, and magical attacks didn’t penetrate the barrier protecting the attacking force. The attacking warriors in front had halted and brought their shields up. Tyler saw the second line move forward.

  Now!

  The mage cast small quake spells, three of them, along the Aztecah arc. He carefully placed the center of each impact point some distance to the rear of the attackers. He hoped the stratagem would avoid destroying the linear formation of the Incans and spare the crowd of prisoners held at the back. As the quakes started, the Aztecah formation crumbled amid the sound of heaving ground. The disciplined arc devolved into a mass of jostling and disoriented men trying to stay on their feet. Small fissures opened and resulted in more confusion as warriors fell into them or tripped as the ground cracked. Dust started to obscure the battlefield.

  The Incans, momentarily surprised by the providential event, recovered swiftly and started another barrage of arrows and spears. Small fireballs erupted among the attackers. This time, the projectiles and magical assaults inflicted casualties among the Aztecah warriors. Whoever sustained the shield must have been sufficiently distracted to forget about maintaining it. As Tyler saw the attackers begin to fall, he straightaway exploded his own small fireballs among the milling warriors. Before more dust obscured his vision, he could see numerous burning figures either dead on the ground or run around the battlefield.