The Accidental Archmage: Book One - Ragnarok Rising (MOBI EDITION)

by Edmund A. M. Batara

  “What do you mean?”

  “To take cover under the wagon of course. Forgive me for my lateness in joining you. I had to get the tools of my… ahem… profession.”

  Oh, that’s what it is, Tyler understood, you thought I would be running and screaming like a little girl! The man failed to realized he had jinxed the entire column. Tyler was sorely tempted to box the man’s ears.

  “What’s happening?” asked Tyler, trying to keep his voice as calm as he could, steadfast in his determination not to let Habrok sense his rising panic.

  “An ambush, my lord. Definitely not bandits. Too organized and too many, it would appear. Doubt if it’s another Jarl. Maljen is not at war and the neighbors know better to start one with the jotnar acting up.” The unruffled tone in Habrok's voice surprised him. Though he could sense that the word “obviously” was intentionally omitted from the beginning of the answer.

  An ambush. Hello, Mr. Obvious. “Where’s Jorund?”

  “I saw him riding to the front with his shield up before I saw the arrows, my lord.”

  “Wouldn’t he be in danger from those arrows?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, my lord. A warrior such as Jorund has a few tricks left.”

  Tyler could swear he felt the man wink. The noise had died down. He did notice that the circled wagons had left a space enough for two more on the side facing them. Habrok told him the gap was for the two leading front wagons. These carried the men’s spears, javelins, wicker shields against arrows, and other equipment. The warriors would have formed a shield wall by now and the distribution of the needed gear should nearly be done.

  Tyler wished he could see that, a shield wall battle in real life! Provided of course he didn’t get involved and his neck was not on line. He did notice that there were no arrows stuck in the ground in his immediate vicinity. This gave him some comfort in the possibility that they were beyond the range of the enemy bowmen. But it also would mean that the archers preferred to concentrate their fire on the Maljen warriors.

  After a while, the two could hear the sound of nearing hooves. A sharp whistle rang out. Habrok got out and walked to a position in front of Tyler. Tyler crawled closer to the man and he could see Jorund on his horse talking quietly with Habrok and two of the mercenaries. Thereafter, one of the mercenaries looked at the gathered guards at the back of the wagon, gave an order and rode to the left of road, shortly followed by more men. Jorund rode to the back. Habrok crawled back beside Tyler.

  “It’s not good. The attack has yet to begin. It's arrows for now but Jorund says he could see a lot of enemies, around three to four times more than what we have. There’s probably a lot more coming. And it’s not only jotnar, also dokkalfr. Some men have sent to guard the flank facing the forest but our guards have been asked to guard the left flank. Horsemen would do better there. Open area and few trees.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “We wait and fight when needed. It’s a lost battle now unless the gods intervene. There’s nowhere to run except in the direction of the hills. Moreover, it’s dark and the land is flat. The dokkalfr are faster and see a lot better than us at night. If we have to escape, we have to wait until the battle is fully joined. You are our charge and our honor is bound to you.”

  With that, Habrok left, saying he had to untether the horses and prepare. Glancing at the man as he left, Tyler could see the outline of a bow and a quiver on Habrok’s back. He had to admit he was impressed with the man's sense of honor. Or excuse for survival. Whoever was the real Habrok.

  All of a sudden, a distant horn sounded. Tyler could feel the ground tremble with the onrushing feet or paws or hooves of whatever was attacking the shield wall. He could now hear the answering shouts and roars of the Maljen warriors. Compared to the sound of raised human voices, the attackers' response was a louder and unholy cacophony of noises, shouts, barks, growls and other non-human utterances. The din was unbelievable.

  Even way out in the back, Tyler could feel the impact when the attackers hit the shield wall. As the sounds of the battle raged, he got out and made his way to the horses, now released from the wagon. Habrok was with the horses while the mounted Jorund, together with the two remaining guards, kept watch.

  Abrupt shouts from the direction of the circled wagons turned his head in that direction. Tyler noticed that the gap in the wagon circle was still there and many shadowy attackers were in a melee with those left with the wagons. Even in the dark, he could see that the defenders were heavily outnumbered. As he slowly crouched back, keeping to the sides of the wagon, another shout caught his attention. This time from Jorund’s location.

  “DOKKALFR!”

  Turning, he saw Jorund ride down an armed figure while the two guards engaged a group which emerged from the gloom. It was difficult for Tyler to see anything. Apparently, his enhanced eyesight didn’t work in darkness. Then he noticed Habrok hurling a javelin at someone and pulling out a long sword.

  It was a weird experience for Tyler. He knew he should be scared out of his wits. That he should be looking for a place to hide, weaponless as he was. Yet he felt a preternatural calm descend upon him. Although through the calmness he felt, he could sense something warm throbbing inside his skull, just above the nape of his neck. Some part of his mind hoped it wasn’t a heart attack.

  Then he realized he had stood up and as he looked into the night, he could see a group of figures heading straight for him, weapons at the ready. Swords, spears and two axes, another part of his mind noted. It was as if his mind was working at an incredible rate. With several components separately but placidly taking care of matters his senses observed.

  As they drew nearer, he observed they were strangely moving in slow motion. It was as if his mind was processing reality at a faster rate. His mind had accepted the danger the attackers represented and he wanted them away. In response, a strong and strange sensation swelled inside him, it instantly collected itself in his mind’s eye as if asking him what he wanted to do. Tyler abstractedly waved his right hand to and fro at the group as if erasing them. The slow-moving attackers then vanished, part by part. Where Tyler’s hand swept, those parts of the attackers disappeared. Chunks of the bodies not included in the sweep fell into the ground, the darkness mercifully concealing their bloody nature.

  Suddenly, he felt extremely tired to the point of being unable to stand. He slumped down, his back to a wagon wheel. Barely conscious, he felt carried and loaded on a horse. Then he could feel the wind on his face as the steed raced, with others riding beside him.

  He struggled to open his eyes but after a moment of success, the exhaustion claimed him. His last sight was that of the shield wall in the distance, eerily illuminated by light from torches and the two burning wagons behind the defenders, as it was finally overwhelmed by a mass of attackers, with more enemies following in their wake.

  Sunlight on Tyler’s face woke him up. He still felt weak. He opened his eyes and found himself lying down on a bedroll, surrounded by trees. In front was Jorund, tending to something being roasted. He couldn’t see a camp fire, only a glowing metal plate under the food being cooked. He could also see the outline of another man, seated some distance away, hidden among the trees. Clearly acting as a sentry. He struggled to sit up. Jorund noticed the movement.

  “Ah, my lord, you’re awake.”

  The warrior came over and brought him a waterskin. He helped Tyler drink from it, advising him to take small sips at first. The water helped clear his mind and relieved some of the tiredness he felt.

  “Where are we?” he asked Jorund.

  “The hills of Fossegrim, my lord. We’re now hidden in a defile. We’re waiting for Habrok to come back from his scouting.”

  “Fossegrim? This is part of Fossegrim?” Tyler’s stomach tightened in reaction to the news.

  “We’re past the boundaries of Fossegrim Forest. People call this area the Hills of Fossegrim due to its nearness to the forest. Past these hills is the large
town of Bildsfell.”

  “My mind is still clouded, Jorund. Can you tell me what happened after I lost consciousness?”

  The man told him the general details. Though Jorund was not in a mood to go into more specifics. After the dokkalfr sneak assaults on the circled wagons and against them, Jorund realized that the odds were unfavorable. He made his decision to escape. While Habrok and the two mercenaries were busy keeping the elusive assailants at bay, he went to get Tyler. He found him slumped against the wagon, barely conscious. He grabbed Tyler, put him on a horse and tied him there.

  Together with Habrok and one surviving mercenary, they raced out of the ambush area, in the direction of the hills. Along the way, they managed to rescue two more surviving mercenaries from the left flank guard. The spare horse from the wagon also went with them, bringing rations and other gear which Habrok had already loaded on the animal. The horses they had to let go upon reaching the hills.

  Tyler’ memories went back to the scenes he saw the night before, while Jorund went back to tending the roast. He could see saddlebags and a few bundles propped against a tree as he watched Jorund walk back. That must be rations and gear, he surmised. He remembered facing a group of attackers and doing something to them but the details remained sketchy in his memory. But he also remembered seeing the shield wall being overwhelmed, like a sand castle washed away by the incoming tide.

  He had killed. Humans? Creatures? Monsters? He was not sure, the darkness obscured details. What he remembered was that they were humanoid. Shorter than the average human, stocky, and wore black attire though he wasn’t really sure if it was armor of some sort. Faces were also covered with a black face mask but again he wasn’t sure if it was part of the helm.

  He did feel some remorse in killing them. They’re sentient living beings after all. But the recollection of the strange but cruelly designed weapons they carried didn’t give rise to any guilt over the deed. They were going to kill him. Though he couldn’t recall exactly how he defeated them. But the memory did bring home to his mind that this world is a brutal and violent one. Being told that fact and being a direct participant in a life or death situation are clearly two different things.

  Finally, Jorund called him over to the camp fire for the day-meal. He was ravenous. The meal consisted of flatbread and roasted boar, as he now see the animal being cooked. He was fascinated by the cooking fire being used. It was a large metal plate with runic sigils on it. It provided enough heat for cooking without the smoke of a wood fire. It also absorbed any smell generated by the cooking, as he couldn’t detect the aroma of the roasting meat until he got closer to the fire.

  Jorund left him for a while, carrying food. He deduced it was for the mercenaries posted as sentries around the small camp. Tyler went back to his bedroll to rest some more. The sounds of a whispered discussion woke him up. He saw Habrok, Jorund, and a mercenary huddled together. He stood up and joined them.

  “Good to see you well my lord,” said Habrok.

  Tyler just nodded and sat down. He noticed that the men’s armor had dents, rents, and rips. Jorund, in particular, had a long gash across the front of his leather armor, some of the iron plates were missing and while some had cracks in them. Must be a hell of a fight for the man. But his battleaxe was still with him, strapped on his back. A sword and a knife on his hips completed his ensemble.

  Habrok’s black leather armor also showed damage though he still had his long sword and his bow. The mercenary had an axe, smaller than Jorund’s, as well as a knife. His leather armor was of a similar condition as that of Habrok’s. He was introduced to Tyler as Kjotve, the remaining senior guard. Tyler noticed that nobody had shields anymore.

  “What’s the plan now?” inquired Tyler.

  Jorund told him that the plan was to get through to Bildsfell. Through the hills, avoiding open areas where they may be spotted by either jotnar or dokkalfr. Upon reaching the town, the group will tell authorities about the fate of the column. The mercenaries intend to get word back to their guild as well as Maljen’s town commander. Jorund’s group will try to get any news about the route to Scarburg. On Habrok’s scouting, it appeared that nobody was in pursuit. The battle site now appeared to be clear of enemies though Habrok was concerned about sighting jotnar bands in the hills.

  “That is strange. As strange as the jotnar and dokkalfr working together. The magic of Fossegrim Forest has always kept the jotnar at bay, even in these hills. But the size of the ambush horde was also extraordinary. The combined jotnar and dokkalfr army was enough to take a small town, not for a mere ambush,” the mercenary commented.

  “Well, that’s what we have to deal with now. It could be that they wanted to discourage further reinforcements for Scarburg,” Jorund replied. Then he turned to Habrok, “Rest for a while and then scout out a trail for us.”

  Habrok nodded and then took out his bedroll and went to Tyler’s side of the clearing where he laid it out and grabbed a nap. The mercenary also left and went to the forest, presumably to resume his sentry duties. Tyler didn’t follow Habrok, apprehensive that he may get caught up in one of the man’s dialogues. He also needed some time to clear his head. He sat and observed his surroundings. It was a typical small forest clearing. Yet there was something in the air that was a bit off. A wisp of unnatural coldness.

  Freak me, thought Tyler. All I need now is an elf, a dwarf, and some halflings and I’ll be set for Mordor.

  The trek towards safety thankfully went without further incident. Though Tyler was now attired in light leather armor. With a simple leather helm reinforced with iron bands, a short sword from the extra gear, together with a cloak. Habrok went ahead, scouting and marking the trail, while Jorund was in the lead of the party as he was the only one familiar with Habrok’s forest signs. Movement was slow as they frequently had to stop and take cover. Only Habrok was allowed to be active outside of the trail being followed. Tyler didn’t see any of the beings or creatures they were hiding from as the rule was stop, take cover and don’t move.

  At this point, Tyler was happy enough to follow it. Their small number, the anxiety resulting from the dark recesses and strange sounds of the dense forest covering the hills, the constant fear of an attack, all served to dampen his curiosity. Meals were eaten cold and shelter locations were carefully selected.

  Surprisingly, Habrok was not his usual talkative self. Being in his element, he looked and acted like a different person. A bit cold, alert and professional. Tyler didn’t even see him smile once they got on their way. After a few days of numbing travel, Habrok came back to them with the news that the town was in sight about four miles down the trail. But it was under siege.

  Tyler could only think of the man's jinx.

  About an hour later, Jorund and Tyler lay prone behind a clump of bushes. Both covered with a forest green tarp with dabs of brown and other woodland colors on it. Habrok was some distance away, covered with a similar tarp, also watching the scene in front of them. One mercenary each on the sides of the position and the third at their back served as sentries.

  To his mind, the scene before Tyler was amazing. It was like a fantasy miniature set come to life! The group was positioned on the foothills of the Fossegrim Hills. A series of mounds and small hills, covered with trees and bushes. It marked the start of the open fields around Bildsfell. The walled town itself was bordered on two sides by what Jorund called the Telemark River. The river itself was wide enough to prevent easy access to the town. In front of the town, around five miles from its city gate, was the beginnings of a great forest.

  The two could see many plumes of smoke dotting the landscape, the sign of destroyed villages, hamlets and farms. Even this far from the city, they could see the tents of a jotnar horde encamped about a mile from their position. Beyond that was a small river with a stone bridge crossing it, a tributary of the Telemark River.

  In the far distance he could see a vast sea of figures, some marching and some at rest. Flags too many to count marked th
e positions of various companies. His mind raced. If they could raise this army against Bildsfell, what more for Scarburg? He estimated, compared to the force which ambushed the Maljen column, a greater proportion of attackers to defenders. Bildsfell was doomed.

  He turned his attention to the encampment before him. No dokkalfr could be seen. He estimated the force in front of them to be around four to five hundred beings and creatures. He was a bit surprised to see the tents set up in orderly rows, pennants flying at regular intervals.